Peggy said, "Well, Larry, what's the news of the great world?" "It's raining," said Silvio, who had something of the mournful timbre of Hilary's voice in his. Peggy said, "Oh, darling, be more interesting! I'm horribly afraid you're going to grow up obvious, Larry, and that will never do. What else is it doing?" "There's a cat in the rain," said Silvio, flattening his nose against the blurred glass, and manifestly inclined to select the sadder aspects of the world's news for retail. That tendency too, perhaps, he inherited from Hilary. Presently he added, "There's a taxi coming up the street," and Peggy placed Thomas on Peter's knees and came to the window to look. When she had looked she said to Peter, "It must be nearly six o'clock" (the clock gained seventeen minutes a day, so that the time was always a matter for nicer calculation than Peggy could usually afford to give it); "and if Hilary's got flu, I should think Tommy'd be best out of the room.... I haven't easily the time to put him to bed this evening, really." Peter accepted the suggestion and conveyed his son from the room. As he did so, someone knocked at the front door, and Peggy ran downstairs to open it. She let in the unhappy noise of the rain and a tall, slim person in a fur coat. Peggy was surprised, and (most rarely) a little embarrassed. It wasn't the person she had looked for. She even, in her unwonted confusion, let the visitor speak first. He said, "Is Mr. Peter Margerison in?" frostily, giving her no sign of recognition. "He is not, Lord Evelyn," said Peggy, hastily. "That is, he is busy with the baby upstairs. Will I take him a message?" "I shall be glad if you will tell him I have called to see him." "I will, Lord Evelyn. Will you come up to the drawing-room while I get him?" Peggy led the way, drawing meanwhile on the resources of a picturesque imagination. "He may be a little while before he can leave the baby, Lord Evelyn. Poor mite, it's starved with hunger, the way it cries and cries and won't leave off, and Peter has to cheer it." Lord Evelyn grunted. The steep stairs made him a little short of breath, and not sympathetic.