Technically, when the front doorbell of San Rafael rang, it was Claire Lippett’s duty to answer it; but Claire was upstairs making beds. Kay stalked across the hall, and having turned the handle, found confronting her a young woman of spectacular appearance, clad in gorgeous raiment and surmounted by a bird-of-paradise-feathered hat so much too good for her that Kay’s immediate reaction of beholding it was one of simple and ignoble jealousy. It was the sort of hat she would have liked to be able to afford herself, and its presence on the dyed hair of another cemented the prejudice which that other’s face and eyes had aroused within her. “Does a guy named Shotter live here?” asked the visitor. Then, with the air of one remembering a part and with almost excessive refinement, “Could I see Mr. Shotter, if you please?” “Mr. Shotter lives next door,” said Kay frostily. “Oh, thank yaw. Thank yaw so much.” “Not at all,” said Kay. She shut the door and went into the drawing-room. The feeling of being in a world bounded north, east, south and west by Sam Shotter had thoroughly poisoned her day. She took pen, ink and paper and wrote viciously for a few moments. “Claire,” she called. “’Ullo!” replied a distant voice. “I’m leaving a note on the hall table. Will you take it next door some time?” “Right-ho!” bellowed the obliging Miss Lippett. CHAPTER FIFTEEN VISITORS AT MON REPOS Sam was preparing to leave for the office when his visitor arrived. He had, indeed, actually opened the front door. “Mr. Shottah?” “Yes,” said Sam. He was surprised to see Mrs. Molloy. He had not expected visitors at so early a period of his tenancy. This, he supposed, must be the suburban equivalent of the county calling on the new-comer. Impressed by the hat, he assumed Dolly to be one of the old aristocracy of Valley Fields. A certain challenging jauntiness in her bearing forbade the suspicion that she was collecting funds for charity. “Won’t you come in?” “Thank yaw. Thank yaw so much. The house agent told me your name.” “Cornelius?” “Gink with a full set of white whiskers. Say, somebody ought to put that baby wise about the wonderful invention of the safety razor.” Sam agreed that this might be in the public interest, but he began to revise his views about the old aristocracy. “I’m afraid you’ll find the place in rather a mess,” he said apologetically, leading the way to the drawing-room. “I’ve only just moved in.” The visitor replied that, on the contrary, she thought it cute. “I seem to know this joint by heart,” she said. “I’ve heard so much about it from old pop.” “I don’t think I am acquainted with Mr. Popp.” “My father, I mean. He used to live here when he was a tiny kiddy.” “Really? I should have taken you for an American.” “I am American, and don’t let anyone tell you different.” “I won’t.” “One hundred per cent, that’s me,” Sam nodded. “‘Oh, say, can you see by the dawn’s early light?’” he said reverently.