Mr. Pett, on his side, receiving her cold glance squarely between the eyes, felt as if he were being disembowelled by a clumsy amateur. He could not help wondering what sort of a man this fellow Crocker was whom this sister-in-law of his had married. He pictured him as a handsome, powerful, robust individual with a strong jaw and a loud voice, for he could imagine no lesser type of man consenting to link his lot with such a woman. He sidled in a circuitous manner towards a distant chair, and, having lowered himself into it, kept perfectly still, pretending to be dead, like an opossum. He wished to take no part whatever in the coming interview. "Ogden, of course, you know," said Mrs. Pett. She was sitting so stiffly upright on a hard chair and had so much the appearance of having been hewn from the living rock that every time she opened her mouth it was as if a statue had spoken. "I know Ogden," said Mrs. Crocker shortly. "Will you please stop him fidgeting with that vase? It is valuable." She directed at little Ogden, who was juggling aimlessly with a handsome _objet d'art_ of the early Chinese school, a glance similar to that which had just disposed of his step-father. But Ogden required more than a glance to divert him from any pursuit in which he was interested. He shifted a deposit of candy from his right cheek to his left cheek, inspected Mrs. Crocker for a moment with a pale eye, and resumed his juggling. Mrs. Crocker meant nothing in his young life. "Ogden, come and sit down," said Mrs. Pett. "Don't want to sit down." "Are you making a long stay in England, Nesta?" asked Mrs. Crocker coldly. "I don't know. We have made no plans." "Indeed?" She broke off. Ogden, who had possessed himself of a bronze paper-knife, had begun to tap the vase with it. The ringing note thus produced appeared to please his young mind. "If Ogden really wishes to break that vase," said Mrs. Crocker in a detached voice, "let me ring for the butler to bring him a hammer." "Ogden!" said Mrs. Pett. "Oh Gee! A fellow can't do a thing!" muttered Ogden, and walked to the window. He stood looking out into the square, a slight twitching of the ears indicating that he still made progress with the candy. "Still the same engaging child!" murmured Mrs. Crocker. "I did not come here to discuss Ogden!" said Mrs. Pett. Mrs. Crocker raised her eyebrows. Not even Mrs. Otho Lanners, from whom she had learned the art, could do it more effectively. "I am still waiting to find out why you did come, Nesta!" "I came here to talk to you about your step-son, James Crocker." The discipline to which Mrs. Crocker had subjected herself in the matter of the display of emotion saved her from the humiliation of showing surprise. She waved her hand graciously--in the manner of the Duchess of Axminster, a supreme hand-waver--to indicate that she was all attention. "Your step-son, James Crocker," repeated Mrs. Pett. "What is it the New York papers call him, Peter?"