"This bazaar," said Dollie Gresham, cheerily, "is humming. I have not been asked about as much as I should like to be lately; people forget poor little nobodies. The Duchess is giving her patronage, _entre nous_. Mavis Moover will dance for me--joy for her Grace of Boredom! Oh, I've got heaps and heaps of people! We are secretaries, and cashiers, and so forth, and we shall all wear flower dresses. Our stall shall be forget-me-nots. The Duchess chose tulips; she said she had a black silk gown and she knew there was a tulip of that colour. We shall be audaciously beautiful in sky blue, rather short." Esmé had rushed into this new scheme. "It won't cost much, will it?" she asked. "Secretaries, workers, _chérie_," prattled Dollie, "have all expenses paid. All frocks, frills, etc.; they give their valuable time. Come with me to Claire's. She is at least original." Dollie's maid brought in two cards. Mrs Gresham frowned over them. "The tiresome secretary of the hospital," she said, "and Canon Bright, one of the founders. Look charitable, Esmé." Next moment, all smiles, she greeted a kindly-looking, middle-aged man and a grey-haired clergyman; a stern-faced, clear-eyed man, who made this hospital for little suffering children his hobby. They overwhelmed Dollie with thanks. "This debt"--Canon Bright took out some notes of figures--"was weighing us down. Now, with your help, it will be paid off, and we shall have something besides to go on with, to buy sorely-needed appliances." "Oh, of course," said Dollie, vaguely. "We were looking for some kind lady or society to take it up; fortunately you met Mr Lucy at luncheon." "Yes; that put it into my head," said Dollie, brightly. "Bazaars are so paying; this is my friend and sister secretary, Mrs Carteret. I've got every big name in London, Canon, or half of them. Oh, it will be a great success. We've taken the hall. We're all going to be summer flowers. 'The Summer Flower Bazaar,' such a good name, isn't it?" Mr Lucy nursed his hat. "You won't let the expenses mount, Mrs Gresham," he said, "will you? Once they begin to swell our cripples would lose. You'll let me help you with the accounts. It's my _métier_, you see, and I could help you." Dollie chilled visibly. She preferred to do it all herself, she said. "We really want to _work_," she went on, smiling again. "After all, it's quite simple. We have all our cheques paid in and we pay the exes and hand you the balance. We'll work it up like anything. You get all your people to come, Canon--all your charitable friends. The dear little cripples," cooed Dolly--"so nice to help them." "Tiresome, muddling pair," she snapped when the two men had left. "Come to Claire's, Esmé. I owe her two hundred, but these flower dresses will cool her rage, and she'll know we'll pay for this lot all right."