Into Mrs. Heth's gray eyes had sprung a kind of glitter, the look of a commanding general about to make an exterminative rush upon the enemy. Hugo Canning to be maliciously informed that _her_ daughter was, had been, or ever should be engaged to Jack Dalhousie! Not while she retained her love of justice, and the power of locomotion in her limbs. "Oho!" said she. "Well, I'll fix _that_ ... I'll stamp upon their miserable lies ..." The room telephone rang loudly, hastening decisions. Carlisle winced visibly. In her mood of acute sensitiveness, she was for not answering at all. But Mrs. Heth, the fighting man now in full possession of her, tossed off the receiver with a brigadier air. "Well?" demanded she sharply; and then, continuing: "Yes. Oh, yes! Howdedo, Willie ... You've arrived, have you? (It's Willie Kerr, Cally.) What? Oh, yes. She's quite well, though naturally somewhat upset by the shock. It is a most unpleasant occurrence, and I feel deeply for the young man's father, and his friends if he has any. Certainly, Willie. We want the whole affair perfectly understood. Our position demands it. Yes. I want to talk with you about it, at once. Will you meet me in the Blue Parlor in ten minutes? Very well. Mr. Canning came with you, I suppose?... Ah, yes ... What? _No_, Willie! Not a _line_! You must put your foot down on that! This is entirely a personal matter and I will not allow a piece in the paper about it. I won't have it.... Ah. All right, then. I'll trust that to you. In ten minutes, Willie...." The capable little general turned from the telephone to find the eyes of the lieutenant or private fixed fearfully upon her. "Willie," she explained, hurriedly, "says there's a newspaper reporter hanging about--think of it!--trying to pick up something scandalous for his wretched sheet. Willie has promised to attend to _him_. He says he knows the editor or correspondent or whoever it is, and there won't be the slightest trouble in shutting him up. There shan't be either. Now to business." At her best in action, mamma glided through the door into her own room, slipping off her robe as she glided. In an amazingly short time she was back again, breathing hard, and dressed for no-quarter affray. "You didn't talk downstairs, Cally? No one pumped you as to what had happened?" "No, I spoke to no one." Mrs. Heth wielded hatpins before the mirror, the glitter surviving in her eyes. "I am putting on a hat," she threw out, "to give matters a casual air. A public hotel's a hotbed of gossip. Everything depends on the story's being started right--on just the right note.... Thank God, I'm here!" "Lie down," added Mrs. Heth, and Carlisle lay down.