"Father is a business man, I know," continued Marjorie, with a cheery smile; "and I know business men like to see evidence in black and white. You can keep that licence, if you like, and send it to him from me, as a certificate of character, and tell him that I am very well—_and_ busy—_and_ happy—_and_ respectable—and don’t require providing for in any way whatever. And you can give my love to mother." Uncle Fred rose to his feet, and held out his hand hesitatingly. Down in his puny soul he dimly felt himself in the presence of something rather unusually big. "I will tell your father I have seen you," he said, "and what you have told me. And I’m—I’m sorry, if—" Marjorie cut him short. "That’s all right!" she said, with great cheerfulness. "It was a difficult mission for you, I know, and I’m not surprised you made a mess of it. Now," she added briskly, "I feel terribly inhospitable at not having given you any tea. Liss and I are just going out to dinner. It’s—it’s—rather a special occasion with us, and we are going to have an extra good one. Won’t you join us?" She crossed to the bureau again, and picked up the writing-pad. "We are going," she announced, resolutely avoiding the bulging eyes of Miss Elizabeth Lyle, "to have _Potage à la reine, Sole meunière, Duckling, Méringues—_" But Uncle Fred was down and out. "I can’t accept," he replied, almost piteously. "I must be off to Dulwich. But thank you kindly!" He moved to the door. "I will write to your father. Good-bye, my girl!" He nodded nervously towards Liss. "Good-evening, all!" Next moment the vestibule door had clicked behind him, and the girls were alone. Liss threw her arms round Marjorie’s neck. "O magnificent, wonderful angel! How you stood up to that silly old Nosey Parker! How you put him in his place! How you bluffed him! But, darling, what a risk! Supposing he had accepted—what then?" "What then?" Marjorie laughed unsteadily. "We would have taken him round the corner to Savroni’s, and _given_ him his dinner—every bit of it—that’s all!" Liss looked timidly up into her idol’s face. "Dearest," she enquired apprehensively, "are you feeling _funny_, at all? I don’t like the way your fist is clenched. Relax!" "I’m not feeling funny," Marjorie assured her, relaxing the fist in question. "Unless it’s funny to be rich!" She held out her hand. "Look! Look what I found inside the pocket of my motor licence! I might have guessed, after that message. Dear, kind old man! I might have guessed—bless him!" In her upturned palm lay a neatly folded bank-note. Liss’s eyes goggled. "How much?" she whispered. "We’ll see." Marjorie unfolded the rustling treasure-trove. "Ten pounds! Now wasn’t I right not to put down oysters? Oh, Baby, if only, only, only we had the guests!" But Fortune, once she veers round, seldom does things by halves. There came a knock on the outer door. "Hallo!" cried Liss. "Surely it’s not that old Nanny back again?"