Valentia ran down. Just as she was screwing the long coral and pearl ear-rings with rather painful energy on to the unfortunate young man's ears, the servant, with a slight expression of terror that could not be concealed, announced-- "Mrs. Wyburn." The situation was really rather comic. Romer's mother, who was going to a dinner-party in the same street, could not forgo the pleasure of calling unexpectedly on them at half-past seven, vaguely hoping that it might be inconvenient to them, and that she would catch them in something they didn't want her to know--a true mother's instinct. But not in her wildest dreams had she expected what she saw when she entered the drawing-room--her daughter-in-law in her red mortar-board, red cloak and bands, with, apparently, her arms round the neck of a young man in purple silk stockings and jewelled embroidered gloves with rings outside them. Mrs. Wyburn literally sank into a chair. Valentia was perfectly equal to the occasion. She thoroughly enjoyed the baffling of Mrs. Wyburn. "I can't think why Romer didn't tell you," she repeated several times, "that Van Buren is giving a dinner for the fancy ball!" and she rang and gave orders that her husband and sister were to come down immediately. Romer had been four hours dressing; Daphne about ten minutes. "I do think you ought to have a little make-up. Will you?" said Valentia to Vaughan. "I should love to," he answered, to Mrs. Wyburn's disgust and horror, looking in the glass and taking very little notice of the indignant old lady. "He _does_ need just a touch of lip-salve and a little black under the eyes, don't you think so?" Valentia asked, caressingly, pretending to consult Mrs. Wyburn. "I can't say, I'm sure. I've no idea what he wants," said Mrs. Wyburn with a snap. "But don't you think it would improve him, darling?" Valentia went on, holding her head on one side and holding up her hand as if she were looking at a picture. "Not at all," said Mrs. Wyburn. "Then do you think his lips are red enough already?" asked Valentia. Vaughan hastily interrupted the absurd discussion. "The human lip is never red enough," he said decidedly; "they ought to be bright, light scarlet." "That's just what I think. I've got some lovely scarlet stuff--the colour of sealing-wax. Shall I fetch it for you?" "Yes, do," he said. "But won't it look rather----" "No; merely decent," said the young man decidedly. "And what does Romer say to _all this_?" said Mrs. Wyburn with a forced smile and a voice trembling with uncontrollable rage. "Oh, he likes it, darling. He loves it. No one's been so keen about their dress as Romer. I'll go and fetch him, and my roll of parchment--I had forgotten my roll of parchment." She ran upstairs and came down saying-- "Romer won't be a minute, dear; he's awfully anxious for you to see his dress. He's just darkening his eyelashes. That's all. He's Louis XIX or something, you know."