“Oh, heavens, no, Aunt Cornelia.” She managed a wan smile. “It isn’t as bad as all that. I’m just tired and the city was terribly hot and noisy and—” She stole a glance at her aunt from between lowered lids. “I got your gardener, by the way,” she said casually. “Did you, dear? That’s splendid, though—but I’ll tell you about that later. Where did you get him?” “That good agency, I can’t remember its name.” Dale’s hand moved restlessly over her eyes, as if remembering details were too great an effort. “But I’m sure he’ll be satisfactory. He’ll be out here this evening—he—he couldn’t get away before, I believe. What have you been doing all day, darling?” Miss Cornelia hesitated. Now that Dale had returned she suddenly wanted very much to talk over the various odd happenings of the day with her—get the support of her youth and her common sense. Then that independence which was so firmly rooted a characteristic of hers restrained her. No use worrying the child unnecessarily; they all might have to worry enough before tomorrow morning. She compromised. “We have had a domestic upheaval,” she said. “The cook and the housemaid have left—if you’d only waited till the next train you could have had the pleasure of their company into town.” “Aunt Cornelia—how exciting! I’m so sorry! Why did they leave?” “Why do servants ever leave a good place?” asked Miss Cornelia grimly. “Because if they had sense enough to know when they were well off, they wouldn’t be servants. Anyhow, they’ve gone—we’ll have to depend on Lizzie and Billy the rest of this week. I telephoned—but they couldn’t promise me any others before Monday.” “And I was in town and could have seen people for you—if I’d only known!” said Dale remorsefully. “Only,” she hesitated, “I mightn’t have had time—at least I mean there were some other things I had to do, besides getting the gardener and—” She rose. “I think I will go and lie down for a little if you don’t mind, darling.” Miss Van Gorder was concerned. “Of course I don’t mind but—won’t you even have your lemonade?” “Oh, I’ll get some from Lizzie in the pantry before I go up,” Dale managed to laugh. “I think I must have a headache after all,” she said. “Maybe I’ll take an aspirin. Don’t worry, darling.” “I shan’t. I only wish there were something I could do for you, my dear.” Dale stopped in the alcove doorway. “There’s nothing anybody can do for me, really,” she said soberly. “At least—oh, I don’t know what I’m saying! But don’t worry. I’m quite all right. I may go over to the country club after dinner—and dance. Won’t you come with me, Aunt Cornelia?” “Depends on your escort,” said Miss Cornelia tartly. “If our landlord, Mr. Richard Fleming, is taking you I certainly shall—I don’t like his looks and never did!” Dale laughed. “Oh, he’s all right,” she said. “Drinks a good deal and wastes a lot of money, but harmless enough. No, this is a very sedate party; I’ll be home early.”