"And yet I am morally certain that Trotter had a great deal more to him than Eric Temple ever had," said he. "Trotter was a rather good sort, if I do say it myself. He was a hard-working, honest, intelligent fellow who found the world a very jolly old thing. I shall miss Trotter terribly, Mrs. Millidew. He used to read me to sleep nearly every night, and if I got a headache or a pain anywhere he did my complaining for me. He was with me night and day for three years and more, and that, let me tell you, is the severest test. I've known him to curse me roundly, to call me nearly everything under the sun,--and yet I let him go on doing it without a word in self-defence. Once he saved my life in an Indian jungle,--he was a remarkably good shot, you see. And again he pulled me through a pretty stiff illness in Tokio. I don't know how I should have got on without Trotter." "You are really quite delicious, Mr. Eric Temple. By the way, did you allow the admirable Trotter to direct your affairs of the heart?" "I did," said he promptly. "That is rather disappointing," said she, shaking her head. "Trotter may not have played the game fairly, you know. With all the best intentions in the world, he may have taken advantage of your--shall I say indifference?" "You may take my word for it, Mrs. Millidew, good old Trotter went to a great deal of pains to arrange a very suitable match for me," said he airily. "He was a most discriminating chap." "How interesting," said she, stiffening slightly. "Am I permitted to inquire just what opportunities Thomas Trotter has had to select a suitable companion for the rather exotic Mr. Temple?" "Fortunately," said he, "the rather exotic Mr. Temple approves entirely of the choice made by Thomas Trotter." "I wouldn't trust a chauffeur too far, if I were you," said she, a little maliciously. "Just how far _would_ you trust one?" he inquired, lifting his eyebrows. She smiled. "Well,--the length of Long Island," she said, with the utmost composure. "Mr. Trotter's late employer would not, it appears, share your faith in the rascal," said he. "She is a rather evil-minded old party," said Mrs. Millidew, the younger, bowing to the occupants of an automobile which was moving slowly in the same direction down the Avenue. A lady in the rear seat of the limousine leaned forward to peer at the widow's companion, who raised his hat,--but not in greeting. The man who slumped down in the seat beside her, barely lifted his hat. A second later he sat up somewhat hastily and stared. The occupants of the car were Mrs. Smith-Parvis,--a trifle haggard about the eyes,--and her son Stuyvesant. Young Mrs. Millidew laughed. "Evidently they recognize you, Mr. Temple, in spite of your spats and stick." "I thought I was completely disguised," said he, twirling his stick.