"But just the few minutes that Romer was looking for them made--well, rather a fuss. It was perfectly all right afterwards. They all had supper together. So there wasn't much talk about it, except, as I say, while Romer was waiting for them. I never in my life saw any one look so ghastly as that chap did." Vaughan sat down and looked thoughtful. "Only you, Muir, would leave out the only thing of the slightest importance that you had to tell me, which I hear the second I leave the house from that round-faced tattooed idiot, Rathbone, at the corner of the street." "But I tell you it's all right, old chap." "All right? Don't you see that this sort of thing constantly happening will gradually undermine ...? I like Valentia. It's a great shame." "Harry certainly isn't worth smashing up a happy home for," Muir answered, "if that's what you're afraid of. But ... when he marries Miss Walmer it'll be all right. Val will forget about him, and settle down with Romer again. I'm deeper than you think, Gillie ... ah, I don't say much, but I can see as far through a brick wall as most people!" "Just about as far, I should think," said Vaughan contemptuously. "What do you propose to do about it?" "It's likely I'd tell you." Gillie sat down to his desk and rang a bell. "I suppose I've got to go now, eh?" "Almost time, I should think." "Ha, ha, ha! Capital! Well, so long! Be good." Muir went away as heartily as he had arrived. The bell was answered by the entrance of the housekeeper, Mrs. Mills. She was a muddle-headed, elderly woman in black silk, whom Vaughan kept because her extraordinary tactlessness amused him. She invariably managed to do and say the wrong thing at the right time. To-day it was a hot morning in July. She came in holding in her hand a little card covered with frost and robins. "Mr. Vaughan, sir, I appened to be going through my things, and I come across this, sir. I thought pre-aps you'd like it. It is pretty." She insisted on his taking it. "Charming, Mrs. Mills, but I don't quite see----" "Oh, look at the words, sir! They're what I call so appropriate! Do read them." He read the beautiful words-- _Wishing you a blithe and gladsome Yule._ "What on earth----?" "Well, sir, I only thought they was pretty, and pre-aps you'd like to keep it, sir, or send it to one of your young ladies; but I'll take it away if you don't like it." She put it back in her pocket. "Frankly, I don't. What a genius you have for the wrong thing! Are you going to give me plum pudding and turkey on Midsummer Day?" "I shouldn't dream of such a thing, sir." Gillie had scribbled a letter. "Go and ring up a messenger boy, will you?" "May I send Johnson, sir? I don't old with telephones. They buzz at you or makes you jump. And the young person keeps on saying ave you got them? before you've ad time to breathe, in a manner of speaking."