“Three cabs and five—or was it six?—jews-harps?” continued Mitchell dreamily. “It must have been six, five for we five, and one for Lord Chesterfield—but where is Lord Chesterfield?” he asked suddenly with a disturbed glance around. “I hope he hasn’t deserted and gone home.” “Come on, come on!” said Burnett. “There won’t be a sober cab left if we don’t hurry while everything is still able to stand up.” This reasoning seemed to alarm Mitchell and he went out with him at once. “My head feels awfully,” said Clover to Jack. “It sort of grinds and grates—does yours?” Jack stared straight ahead and made no reply. “I’m goin’ home no more to roam,” said Aunt Mary slowly and sadly,—“I’m goin’ home no more to roam, no more to sin an’ sorrow. I’m goin’ home no more to roam—I’m goin’ home to-morrow. O hum!” She heaved a heavy sigh. “Now see what you’ve done!” said the parrot with emphasis. “Never mind,” said Clover bitterly. “Better people than you have gone home before now; I used to do it myself before I was old enough to know worse. Will you excuse me if I say, ‘Damn this buzzing in my head?’” “I know how you feel,” said Aunt Mary sympathetically. “Don’t you want me to ring for the porter and have him make up your berth right away?” Clover didn’t seem to hear. His eyes were roving moodily about the room; they looked almost as faded as his mustache. “Seems to me they’re gone a long time,” said Jack presently, twisting a little in his seat. “It never takes me so long to get a cab. I hold up my hand—the man stops—and I get in—what’s the matter, Aunt Mary?” He asked the question in sudden alarm at seeing Aunt Mary bury her face hastily in her handkerchief. “What’s the matter?” he repeated loudly. “Don’t mind me,” said Aunt Mary sobbing. “It’s just that I happened to just think of Lu—Lu—Lucinda—and somehow I don’t seem to have no strength to bear it.” “Split the handkerchief between us,” said Clover. “I want to cry, too, and there’s no time like the present for doing what you want to do.” “Rot!” said Jack, “look here—” He was interrupted by the return of the embassy, Mitchell bearing the jews-harps. “What’s the matter?” Burnett asked. “Nothing,” said Clover; “we were so worried over you, that’s all.” Burnett called for the bill and found that he had run out of cash; “Or maybe I’ve had my pocket picked,” he suggested. “I’m beginning to be in just the mood in which I always get my pocket picked.” Jack produced a roll of bills and settled for the refreshments. Then they all started down stairs as Aunt Mary wouldn’t risk an elevator going down. “It’s all right comin’ up,” she said, “but if it broke when you were going down where’d you be?” “In the elevator,” said Clover. “I’d never jump, I know that.” “Oh, I’ve left my ear-trumpet,” said Aunt Mary. “Let’s draw lots to see who goes back?” Burnett suggested. They drew and the lot fell to Clover. “I’m not going back,” he said coldly. “I haven’t got the energy. Let her apply the megaphone.”