Believing himself to be the possessor of this attribute, Dr. Prince, on the morning before Christmas Eve, rang up the office of the Midland Supply Depôt on the telephone. "Can I speak to Miss Vivian, if you please?" "Who is it?" inquired an attenuated voice at the other end. "The Officer Commanding Questerham V.A. Hospital," firmly replied the doctor. If Miss Vivian wanted officialness, she should have it. "Can I give a message for you?" "I'm afraid I must speak to Miss Vivian herself." "One moment, please." The doctor waited, and presently the voice said: "I've put you through to Miss Vivian." "Hallo!" exclaimed a weary tone. "Miss Vivian speaking." "Good-evening," said the doctor briskly. "What time am I to call for you tomorrow afternoon?" "Oh, is that you, Dr. Prince? But you really mustn't trouble to call for me; I can hire something." "Not on Christmas Eve." "Perhaps not. Well, let me see. Unless anything unforeseen occurs I think I could get away by eight." "That will do splendidly," ruefully said the doctor, aware of sacrificing truth to diplomacy. "I suppose your office work will go on without you just the same?" There was a pause, which the doctor interpreted as an astounded one. "The office will treat Christmas Day as a Sunday. It will probably be necessary for me to come in during the afternoon, as I do on Sundays, but only for a few hours." The doctor gathered himself together for a Machiavellian effort. "Why not leave that very intelligent little secretary of yours, Miss Jones, to take your place?" "A junior clerk? Out of the question. But I needn't trouble you with those details, of course. As a matter of fact, no one will be here on Christmas Day except the telephone clerk." "I strongly advise you to leave Miss Jones in charge, if I may be permitted to suggest it." "Miss Jones," said Char, very distinctly, "has none of the experience necessary for a position of responsibility, and I should not dream of entrusting her with one. She will have nothing whatever to do with the office during my absence." The triumph of diplomacy was complete. "In that case," said the doctor in a great hurry, "your mother need have no scruple as to inviting her out to Plessing for Christmas. I know she wants to--in fact, I'm charged with the invitation--but it seemed incredible that you should be able to spare her from her work. But I mustn't keep you. Good-night, Miss Vivian. At eight tomorrow I'll come for you both. Good-bye." The triumphant doctor put back the receiver. "Hoist with her own petard!" he muttered to himself in great satisfaction. That afternoon he found time to call on Miss Bruce, on the verge of departure from Char's lodgings, and triumphantly charged her with a message for Lady Vivian. "Tell her that I've arranged the whole thing, and Miss Jones is coming out tomorrow evening in the car to spend Christmas." "At Plessing? But why?" asked the astonished Miss Bruce.