"Mercy!" said Mrs. Thomson, hunting wildly for her slippers which she had kicked off. "Am I all right, Jessie? Give me a book--any one--yes, that." Alick heaved a stout volume--_Shakespeare's Country with Coloured Illustrations_--into his mother's lap, and she at once became absorbed in it, sitting stiffly in her chair, her skirt spread out. Mr. Thomson looked nervous; Robert retreated vaguely towards the window curtains; even Jessie felt a little uncertain, though preserving an outward calm. "There's the bell," said Alick; "I'm off." Jessie clutched him by his coat. "You can't go now," she hissed. "I hear Annie going to the door." They heard the sound of the front door opening, then a murmur of voices and a subdued titter from Annie, and it closed. Next Annie's skurrying footsteps were heard careering wildly for the best bedroom, followed--a long way behind--by other footsteps. Then the drawing-room door opened prematurely, and Mr. Taylor appeared. _CHAPTER II_ "Madam, the guests are come!" _Romeo and Juliet._ Mr. Taylor was a small man, with legs that did not seem to be a pair. He wore a velveteen coat, a white waistcoat, a lavender tie, and a flower in his buttonhole. In the doorway he stood rubbing his hands together and beaming broadly on the Thomsons. "The girrl wanted me to wait on Mrs. Taylor coming downstairs, but I says to her, 'No ceremony for me, I'm a plain man,' and in I came. How are you, Mrs. Thomson? And is Jessie a good wee miss? How are you, Thomson--and Rubbert? Alick, you've grown out of recognition." "Take this chair, Mr. Taylor," said Mrs. Thomson, while _Shakespeare's Country with Coloured Illustrations_ slipped unheeded to the floor; and Jessie glared her disapproval of the little man. "Not at all. I'll sit here. Expecting quite a gathering to-night, Mrs. Thomson?" "Well, Mr. Taylor, they're mostly young people, friends of Jessie's," Mrs. Thomson explained. "Quite so. Quite so. I'm at home among the young people, Mrs. Thomson. Always a pleasure to see them enjoy theirselves. Here comes Mrs. Taylor. C'me away, m'dear, into the fire." "You'd think he owned the house," Jessie muttered resentfully to Robert. Mrs. Taylor was a tall, thin woman, with a depressed cast of countenance and a Roman nose. Her hair, rather thin on the top, was parted and crimped in careful waves. She was dressed in olive-green silk. In one hand she carried a black beaded bag, and she moved at a run with her head forward, coming very close to the people she was greeting and looking anxiously into their faces, as if expecting to find them suffering from some dire disease. On this occasion the intensity of her grasp and gaze was almost painful as "How's Mrs. Thomson?" she murmured, and even Mrs. Thomson's hearty "I'm well, thanks," hardly seemed to reassure her. The arrival of some other people cut short her greetings, and she and her husband retired arm in arm to seats on the sofa.