"The three-thirty, then, Wallis, and I feel as if I were going to steal Charlie Ross! Well----" On the last word she broke off and pushed the sitting-room door softly open and slid in. She walked in a pussy-cat fashion which would have suggested to any one watching her a dark burden on her conscience. She crossed straight to the couch, looked around for the chair that should have been by it but wasn't, and sat absently down on the floor. She liked floors. "Allan!" she said. No answer. "Allan _Harrington_!" Still none. Allan was half-asleep, or what did instead, in one of his abstracted moods. "_All-an Harrington!_" This time she reached up and pulled at his heavy silk sleeve as she spoke. "Yes," said Allan courteously, as if from an infinite distance. "Would you mind," asked Phyllis guilelessly, "if Wallis--we--moved you--a little? I can tell you all about everything, unless you'd rather not have the full details of the plan----" "Anything," said Allan wearily from the depths of his gray cloud; "only don't _bother_ me about it!" Phyllis jumped to her feet, a whirl of gay blue skirts and cheerfully tossing blue feathers. "Good-by, dear Crusader!" she said with a catch in her voice that might have been either a laugh or a sob. "The next time you see me you'll probably _hate_ me! Wallis!" Wallis appeared like the Slave of the Lamp. "It's all right, Wallis," she said, and ran. Wallis proceeded thereupon to wheel his master's couch into the bedroom. "If you're going to be moved, you'd better be dressed a little heavier, sir," he said with the same amiable guilelessness, if the victim had but noticed it, which Phyllis had used from her seat on the floor not long before. "Very well," said Allan resignedly from his cloud. And Wallis proceeded to suit the action to the word. Allan let him go on in unnoticing silence till it came to that totally unfamiliar thing these seven years, a stand-up collar. A shiningly new linen collar of the newest cut, a beautiful golden-brown knit tie, a gray suit---- "What on earth?" inquired Allan, awakening from his lethargy. "I don't need a collar and tie to keep me from getting cold on a journey across the house. And where did you get those clothes? They look new." Wallis laid his now fully dressed master back to a reclining position--he had been propped up--and tucked a handkerchief into the appropriate pocket as he replied, "Grant & Moxley's, sir, where you always deal." And he wheeled the couch back to the day-room, over to its very door.