Patricia turned and froze him with a look. "Will you give him my message, please, Fellers?" she said, and Fellers walked out a disillusioned young woman. Two minutes later Mrs. Bonsor entered the room, flushed and excited. "Oh, Miss Brent, that silly girl has muddled up things somehow! Lord Peter Bowen is waiting for you in the morning-room. I have just been talking to him and saying that I hope you will both dine with us one day next week." "The message was quite correct, Mrs. Bonsor. I am very busy with pigs, and babies, and potatoes. I really cannot add Lord Peter to my responsibilities at the moment." Mrs. Bonsor looked at Patricia as if she had suddenly gone mad. "But Miss Brent-----" began Mrs. Bonsor, scandalised. "I suppose I shall have to see him," said Patricia, rising with the air of one who has to perform an unpleasant task. "I wish he'd stay at the War Office and leave me to do my work. I suppose I shall have to write to Lord Derby about it." Mrs. Bonsor glanced at Mr. Bonsor, who, however, was busily engaged in preparing an appropriate speech upon War Office methods, suggested by Patricia's remark about Lord Derby. As Patricia entered the morning-room, Bowen came forward. "Oh, Patricia! why will you persist in being a cold douche? Why this morning I absolutely scandalised Peel by singing at the top of my voice whilst in my bath, and now. Look at me now!" Patricia looked at him, then she was forced to laugh. He presented such a woebegone appearance. "But what on earth have I to do with your singing in your bath?" she enquired. "It was _The Morning Post_ paragraph. I thought everything was going to be all right after last night, and now I'm a door-mat again." "Who inserted that paragraph?" enquired Patricia. "I rang up _The Morning Post_ office and they told me that it was handed in by Miss Brent, who is staying at the Mayfair Hotel." "Aunt Adelaide!" There was a depth of meaning in Patricia's tone as she uttered the two words, then turning to Bowen she enquired, "Did you tell them to contradict it?" "They asked me whether it were correct," he said, refusing to meet Patricia's eyes. "What did you say?" "I said it was." He looked at her quizzically, like a boy who is expecting a severe scolding. Patricia had to bite her lips to prevent herself from laughing. "You told _The Morning Post_ people that it was correct when you knew that it was wrong?" Bowen hung his head. "But it isn't wrong," he muttered. "You know very well that it is wrong and that I am not engaged to you, and that no marriage has been arranged or ever will be arranged. Now I shall have to write to the editor and insist upon the statement being contradicted." "Good Lord! Don't do that, Patricia," broke in Bowen. "They'll think we've all gone mad." "And for once a newspaper editor will be right," was Patricia's comment. "And will you dine to-night, Pat?"