A sound of voices approaching a shut one downstairs came to their ears. Each girl stole nimbly and silently out and took up a position where she could see safely through the banisters. First came the mauve toque with its white osprey quite graciously animated, then a blue and wide one in turquoise, which from that foreshortened view completely hid the shimmering gold of the hair of Adelaide Maud. Mrs. Leighton was weirdly self-possessed, it seemed to the excited onlookers. She had rung for Bertha, who held the door open now in quite the right attitude. Good old Bertha. Mrs. Dudgeon was condescendingly remarking, "I’m so sorry your little girls ran away!" "Little girls!" breathed four stricken figures at the banisters. Adelaide Maud said, "Yes, and I did so want to meet them. I hear they are very musical." "Musical!" groaned Mabel. "She just said that to be polite--isn’t it awful?" whispered Jean. "Hush." "Once more, our best thanks to your son." Mrs. Leighton answered as though she hadn’t minded a bit that Cuthbert had been nearly killed the day before. "So good of you to call," said she. "Oh," cried Elma, with her head on the banister rail, after the door shut, "I hate society; don’t you, mummy?" "I think you’re very badly behaved, all of you, listening there like a lot of babies," said Mrs. Leighton. "Come and tell your little girls all about it," cried Jean sarcastically. Mrs. Leighton smiled as she toiled upstairs. "It ought to be a lesson to you. Haven’t I often told you that listeners hear no good of themselves," she exclaimed. "Oh, mummy, we are musical," reminded Mabel, softly. "Think of that terrific compliment!" Their mother seemed to have more on her mind than she would tell them. She puffed gently into Cuthbert’s room. "These stairs are getting too much for me," she said. "Well, mater?" asked Cuthbert in an interrogating way. "Well, Cuthbert, they are very grateful to you," she said. He lay back on his pillows. "Don’t I know that patronizing gratitude," he said. It seemed as though they had all suddenly determined to be down on the Dudgeons. His face appeared hard and very determined. He had the fine forehead which so distinguished his father, with the same clear-cut features, and a chin of which the outline was strong and yet frankly boyish. He had a patient insistent way of looking out of his eyes. It had often the effect of wresting remarks from people who imagined they had nothing to say. This time, Mrs. Leighton, noting that familiar appeal in his eyes, was drawn to discussing the Dudgeons. "Mrs. Dudgeon was very nice; she said several very nice things about you and us. She says that Mr. Dudgeon had always a great respect for your father. He knew what he had done in connection with the Antiquarian Society and so on. Miss Dudgeon was very quiet." "Stiff little thing," said Jean, with her head in the air.