And so, on this occasion, neither of the combatants held rancor more than a few minutes. Eunice went on writing letters and Miss Abby went on reading her paper, until at five o’clock, Ferdinand the butler brought in the tea-things. “Goody!” cried Eunice, jumping up. “I do want some tea, don’t you, Aunty?” “Yes,” and Miss Ames crossed the room to sit beside her. “And I’ve an idea, Eunice; I’ll take Ferdinand with me to-morrow!” The butler, who was also Embury’s valet and a general household steward, looked up quickly. He had been in Miss Ames’ employ for many years before Eunice’s marriage, and now, in the Embury’s city home was the indispensable major-domo of the establishment. “Yes,” went on Aunt Abby, “that will make it all quite circumspect and correct. Ferdinand, tomorrow you accompany me to Newark, New Jersey.” “I think not,” said Eunice quietly, and dismissing Ferdinand with a nod, she began serenely to make the tea. “Don’t be silly, Aunt Abby,” she said; “you can’t go that way. It would be all right to go with Ferdinand, of course, but what could you do when you reached Newark? Race about on foot, following up this clown, or whoever is performing?” “We could take a taxicab--” “You might get one and you might not. Now, you will wait till San comes home, and see if he’ll let you have the big car.” “Will you go then, Eunice?” “No; of course not. I don’t go to such fool shows! There’s the door! Sanford’s coming.” A step was heard in the hall, a cheery voice spoke to Ferdinand as he took his master’s coat and hat and then a big man entered the living-room. “Hello, girls,” he said, gaily; “how’s things?” He kissed Eunice, shook Aunt Abby’s hand and dropped into an easy chair. “Things are whizzing,” he said, as he took the cup Eunice poured for him. “I’ve just come from the Club, and our outlook is rosy-posy. Old Hendricks is going to get, badly left.” “It’s all safe for you, then, is it?” and Eunice smiled radiantly at her husband. “Right as rain! The prize-fights did it! They upset old Hendrick’s apple-cart and spilled his beans. Lots of them object to the fights because of the expense--fighters are a high-priced bunch--but I’m down on them because I think it bad form--” “I should say so!” put in Eunice, emphatically. “Bad form for an Athletic Club of gentlemen to have brutal exhibitions for their entertainment.” “And what about the Motion-Picture Theatre?” “The same there! Frightful expense,--and also rotten taste! No, the Metropolitan Athletic Club can’t stoop to such entertainments. If it were a worth-while little playhouse, now, and if they had a high class of performances, that would be another story. Hey, Aunt Abby? What do you think?” “I don’t know, Sanford, you know I’m ignorant on such matters. But I want to ask you something. Have you read the paper to-day?” “Why, yes, being a normal American citizen, I did run through the Battle-Ax of Freedom. Why?” “Did you read about Hanlon--the great Hanlon?”