“It’s a particularly bad case,” said Mr. Hammond, “and we fear the worst.” “The worst?” questioned Sue in a low voice. “You know Miss Unger. Is she going to let Hillcrest slip through her fingers? Hang these visiting girls, anyhow! They always create trouble.” Sue put up a gloved hand quickly. “Please don’t criticise Genevieve to me, Len,” she said. “She’s my friend.” “Just the same, you know what she’ll do,” persisted Mr. Hammond. “She’ll keep Phil dangling as long as she can--perhaps one month, perhaps two--then she’ll haughtily accept him. Meanwhile, what’ll he be good for? Polo? And the Hadbury game comes off in just ten days. We’ll lose it without him.” He nursed a knee disconsolately. “We thought,” began Mr. Graves, taking up the matter where Mr. Hammond had left off, “that you might be able to shorten the period of agony--the dangling period, I mean. If Miss Unger imagined there was the least danger that she’d lose him, why, she’d grab him.” “Yes, she would,” declared Mr. St. Ives. “Her visit at The Lilacs is up pretty soon. Where’ll she go next?” “Here,” said Sue quietly, “--if anyone is speaking unkindly of her.” “That’s lucky for _her_,” went on Mr. Graves. “Your hospitality isn’t to be sneezed at by a girl who likes to spend all of her income on her duds.” Sue rose. “Really,” she said, “I can’t listen any longer. Genevieve is the handsomest girl in the State of New York. She’s a darling to boot. And you gentlemen”--this with studied candor--“would have _less_ to say if each and every one of you had not been given your--your----” “Mitten?” suggested Mr. St. Ives politely. “--Last year,” concluded Sue. “I’m sorry I’ve listened to a single unkind thing about her. I insist that you talk of something else while you remain.” “We’d better go, then,” said Mr. Hammond, his face eloquent of woe. “We came to talk about just that, you see. There isn’t a dashier player, or a stronger hitter, or a better shot at goal in Westchester County. Of course, there’s Tommy Watts. He could sub. But none of us want Tommy, he’s so wild with that whippy stick of his. Oh, why--_why_----” “I haven’t seen Phil for nearly two weeks,” said Sue. “Grandmamma has been quite ill.” “How is Mrs. Townsend?” inquired Mr. St. Ives. “Pardon our forgetting to ask. We’re so confounded worried----” “Phil’s happiness must come before polo,” went on Sue very decidedly. “Surely you didn’t think that I would conspire against him.” “Oh, nothing of the sort!” cried Mr. Graves. “Our hope wasn’t that you would butt in--that is, interfere unpleasantly--and break things up. On the contrary, we wanted you to--er--well, to sort of stampede Genevieve so that she’d say ‘Yes’ at once, or maybe elope. Oh, if Phil _only_ had an old cat of a mother who would oppose the match!” Sue looked down at her boots. Then, after a moment’s thought: “If you like Phil, and think so badly of Genevieve,” she argued, “why should you wish to see them marry? I refuse to be the cat.”