This was followed by a procession of cooks arriving in state in various motor cars and carrying covered trays and vacuum bottles and departing in high spirits at the early close of their day's work. Then the procession of subdued husbands would follow, and conglomerate menus would be spread on a series of tea tables throughout the rooms, with Sezanne smoking her small amber-stemmed pipe and describing her sojourn in a Turkish harem while Gay picked minor chords on his ukulele. After a later diversion of nickel dance halls and slumming the young matrons would say good-bye, preparing to sleep until noon, quite convinced that any one would have called it a day. Such a party greeted Steve, with Gay showing plans for Beatrice's secret room with a sliding panel--clever idea, splendid when they would be playing hide and seek--and the cooks en route with the kettles and bottles of wine and the husbands meekly arriving in sulky silence. A little before two in the morning Steve escorted Aunt Belle back to the Constantine house. Beatrice had started to go to bed, but thinking of something she wished to ask Steve she stationed herself in his room, some candy near at hand and Sezanne's manuscript as solace until he should arrive. "I wanted to ask you if Mary Faithful has returned," she said, throwing down the manuscript as he came in. "Heavens, don't look like a thundercloud! You used to complain about getting into evening dress for dinner; and now when they are as informal as a church supper you row even more. How was papa? Did you go in to see him? Does the house look terrible?" "Of course I didn't see your father at two in the morning; he was asleep. Your aunt fell into a bucket of plaster." "Plaster! Why did the men leave it where she could fall into it? Did it hurt her dress?" "No, just her bones." Steve laughed in spite of himself. "The dress hadn't started to begin where the bones hit the bucket." Beatrice giggled. "Aunt Belle will try to look like a Kate Greenaway creation. And isn't Jill stout? I'd eat stones before I'd get like her. Well, what about the Faithful woman?" "Why such a title? It was always Mary Faithful, and even Mary." "I don't know--but ever since I worked with you this summer I've realized what an easy time she has. She isn't burdened with friends and social duties. It's all so clearcut and straight-ahead sailing for her. I suppose she laughs at her day's work." "She has returned." "Then we can go to the Berkshires. Sezanne knows an artist and some people from Chicago who are ripping company and they are going to visit her cousin at Great Barrington and we are all invited there----"