"That's all right, Mrs. Pelgrin," said Freddy, throwing himself down on a slippery horse-hair sofa--"and supper?" "You'll have it when it's ready, no sooner and no later," barked the ogress, leaving the room. "Cold is it?" and she laughed hoarsely. "I say, Freddy," observed Halliday in a lazy tone, "why is the good lady so very savage?" "She isn't, Mrs. Pelgrin is quite fond of me. I've stayed here often." "Fond of you?" echoed Dan, with a chuckle. "Good Lord, how does she speak to those she isn't fond of?" "It's Northern brusqueness. She's honest----" "But rude. The two seem to go together with many people. They think they will be taken for rascals if they are decently polite." Laurance remonstrated. "Mrs. Pelgrin is a rough diamond." "I like my jewels polished. However, here we are and here we stay, and here we eat, if that amiable lady will bring in supper. Then I shall go to bed, as I shall certainly yawn my head off if I don't." "But it's just after six," cried Laurance. "I want to take you to see Vincent to-night--this evening, that is." "Go yourself, and see the beautiful Mildred," muttered Dan drowsily. "Two's company and three's a crowd. I'm going to bed"; and, in spite of Laurance's arguments against such sloth, to bed he went, after a brisk fight with Mrs. Pelgrin over a fire in his sleeping apartment. He said that he wanted one, while the landlady declared that it was unnecessary. Finally Dan got his own way, and when the fire was blazing, Mrs. Pelgrin said good-night. "But you're no more nor a butterfly," she informed her guest, and went out banging the door, with muttering remarks concerning people who felt cold. "No doubt this weather is here regarded as tropical," murmured Dan, getting into bed and referring to the weather, and he smiled over Mrs. Pelgrin's manners until he fell asleep. Next morning Laurance woke him at eight, and Dan grumbled about getting up, although he was assured that he had slept the clock round. However, a cold bath soon brisked him up, and he came down to the sitting-room with an excellent appetite for breakfast. Mrs. Pelgrin brought it in, and again joked in her fierce way about the cold, which the butterfly--as she again termed Dan--was supposed to feel so keenly. Laurance talked about Mildred, who had been delighted to see him, but mentioned regretfully that he did not think that Dan would get the machine he was in search of. "Why not?" asked Mr. Halliday, lighting his pipe and finishing his third cup of coffee. "Vincent wants his aeroplanes exploited, doesn't he? And where will he find a better chance than for an experienced man, such as I am, flying his latest invention in _The Moment's_ London to York race?" "Vincent's a queer fish. That's all I can say," retorted Laurance. "Well, you can't say more and you can't say less, I suppose. We'll go and have a look at the queer fish in his pond whenever you like." "At eleven o'clock then."