"That," said Master Willoughby seriously, "is Great-aunt Jane. Great- aunt Jane is the skeleton in our cupboard. The mater says so, and she ought to know. Every time the mater has a show, the moment the door is opened, in comes Great-aunt Jane, and sits it out until every one has gone. If any one dares speak to her she snaps his head off, and if they let her alone, she's furious, and gives it to the mater after they're gone. Most of the crowd know her by now, and pretend they don't see, ... and she gets waxier and waxier. Would you like to be introduced?" "Yes, please!" said Claire unexpectedly. She was tired of sitting in one corner, and wanted to move her position, but she was also quite genuinely anxious to try her hand at cheering poor cross Great-aunt Jane. The old lady _pensionnaires_ in the "Villa Beau Sejour" had made a point of petting and flattering the pretty English girl, and Claire was complacently assured that this old lady would follow their example. But she was mistaken. "Aunt Jane, Miss Gifford asks to be introduced to you. Miss Gifford-- Lady Jane Willoughby." Reginald beat a hurried retreat, and Claire seated herself at the end of the sofa and smilingly awaited her companion's lead. It did not come. After one automatic nod of the head, Lady Jane resumed her former position, taking no more notice of the new-comer than if she had remained at the far end of the room. Claire felt her cheeks begin to burn. Her complacence had suffered a shock, but pride came to her rescue, and she made a determined effort at conversation. "That nice boy has been telling me that he has had appendicitis." Lady Jane favoured her with a frosty glance. "Yes, he has. Perhaps you will excuse me from talking about it. I object to the discussion of diseases at social gatherings." Claire's cheeks grew hotter still. A quick retort came to her lips. "I wasn't going to discuss it! I only mentioned it for--for something to say. I couldn't think how else to begin!" The droop of Lady Jane's eyelids inferred that it was really quite superfluous to begin at all. Claire waited a whole two minutes by the clock, and then made another effort. "I hear we are to have some music later on." "Sorry to hear it," said Great-aunt Jane. "Really! I was so glad. Aren't you fond of music, then?" "I am very fond of music," said Aunt Jane, and there was a world of insinuation in her voice. Without a definite word being spoken, the hearer was informed that good music, real music, music worthy the name, was a thing that no sane person would expect to hear at Mrs Willoughby's "At Homes." She was really the most terrifying and disconcerting of old ladies, and Claire heartily repented the impulse which had brought her to her side. A pretty thing it would be if she were left alone on this sofa for the rest of the evening!