Pat doesn't break her fast with the paying guest, however: she's an early bird, though her pet aversion is a worm. I sent a message to her room (the smallest in the house) and was invited to go up. There was a cloud of cigar smoke in the air, and as Pat doesn't smoke, I deduced a miraculously matinal call from Larry. That alone was an omen of catastrophe, for Larry is either up all night or not before 10 A. M. And Pat's face was worse than an omen. I could see behind her poor little smile of greeting, right into her mind, as if her head had been a watch with nothing but glass over the works. "Good gracious, darling, whatever _is_ it?" I gasped. "Nothing," said she, "except--except that Tom has toothache, and I'm sorry for him." "That boy has got a regular rush of teeth to the head!" I snapped. "Never mind him. It's you I'm interested in. Dear baby, your nosebud is quite pink. You've been crying--not for Tom's tooth." "Maybe I got sunburned motoring," she paltered with me. "Nonsense! You've a sunproof complexion, as well as waterproof hair. _Out_ with it, darling!" "You talk like a dentist," Pat put off the evil moment. "I hope your dentist doesn't call you 'darling.' Mine wouldn't twice. Seriously, my child, I don't want to intrude; but we're friends, aren't we? and I'm older than you (worse luck!), so you might let me help. Is it anything to do with housekeeping worries? Has the cook fainted on the breakfast bacon--or----" With that--perhaps the picture was too awful!--she burst into tears. "Oh, Larry has promised Mrs. Shuster he'd marry her, and I must save him," she sobbed. My dear Mercedes, you could have knocked me down with a dandelion seed! Positively my feet felt wobbly under me, like standing on poached eggs. Instantly I realized why the Dove of Peace hadn't wanted to go motoring with us happy, innocent mortals, and why Larry--hypnotized by Mrs. Shuster's money or his own fatal good nature--had pretended that he must stop at home to look after his guests. I wished I were as common as _mud_, and could have gasped out "_Gosh!_" I've told you a good deal about Mrs. Shuster, haven't I? She's not a bad sort in her way--but for Larry, _unthinkable_! Yet I might have guessed. She's been doing her hair a new way lately, and powdering her face. For Larry to have to kiss it now would be exactly like kissing a marshmallow. She's so awkward, too: the least obstacle attracts her like a magnet to stumble over it, and Larry hates awkwardness. Then her clothes! She could force a fashion to change, simply by following it far enough; and she's taken to wearing such bright colours it would be more comfortable to look at her through smoked glasses. Oh, yes, I ought to have guessed! "Save him?" I echoed. "We'll all save him." "He says it's too late to back out, now, in honour," wailed Pat. "The Moores have always been ter-r-ibly honourable."