“If I’d had any sense, I’d have asked Selwyn to drop in, and he’d have come,” she said. “He’s democratic--one of the best mixers I’ve ever met. He told me last night, when you went out to get a handkerchief, that he felt thoroughly at home with me, and that I was the first girl he’d ever felt at home with all his life. That’s something for an earl to say, knowing that I’m a thirty-five bob a week key-shifter.” Her voice trembled slightly and Lois regarded her with a new interest. She had been acquainted with Lizzy for many years and had never known her so emotional. “He’s never had a mother’s care, that boy,” she said again, her voice shaking. Lois charitably overlooked the fact that the boy in question was somewhere in the region of thirty-five. “That woman hasn’t got any more sympathy with Selwyn than I’ve got with her. She’s got a heart like a bit of flint, she’s----” “Mr. Mackenzie will be a poor substitute for your Selwyn, but shall we have him up?” asked Lois again. “Yell for him,” was the terse reply. In many ways Mr. Mackenzie was a more entertaining guest than Lizzy had hoped. In the first place he was very interested in her account of the Morons’ house and daily life, for it was Lizzy who spoke as an authority on the subject, appealing only occasionally to Lois for confirmation. “Silk curtains? Really!” said Mr. Mackenzie, impressed. “And satin ones,” said Lizzy recklessly. “At least, they look like satin. And silver mountings everywhere. And real marble walls in the bathroom. Am I right, Lois? And a silver fire-grate in the drawing-room.” Old Mackenzie sighed. “It must be very gran’ to live amidst such surroundings,” he said, “though I never envy any man or woman. And the countess is a charming lady?” “I wouldn’t call her that,” said Lizzy. “She’s all right up to a point. She’s a bad mother but a good scout, if you understand me.” “She has young children?” Mr. Mackenzie was interested. “He is not exactly young,” Lizzy was careful to explain, “he’s a young man in what you might term the first prime of life. No, he’s not at school,” she snapped to the unfortunate question. “He’s a wonderful man. Selwyn wants to be an actor, and why his mother doesn’t let him go on the stage is a wonder to me.” Again Mr. Mackenzie sighed. “It is a bad life, the stage. I think I have told you young ladies before, all my sorrow and troubles come from my association with the stage.” And he went on disjointedly: “She was a bonny girl, with a beautiful figure and a face like a--a----” “Angel?” suggested Lizzy, pausing with uplifted fork.