"Possibly it's only a tradesman," murmured Mrs. Heth, with hope; and she added in a commanding voice: "Come in." The door opened, with a certain stately dubiousness. Full on the threshold stood Mr. Hugo Canning, no less: an impressive presence in loose motor-coat of black fur. Mr. Canning stood agaze; it was to be seen that he was taken considerably by surprise. For the smallest known fraction of a second, the tableau held. Then action began, dashingly. "Why, Mr. Canning!" cried Mrs. Heth, heartily, rising. "What a very pleasant surprise! So you're back with us again? Delightful!" Mr. Canning came forward; he bowed with fine civility over the proffered hand, voicing great pleasure in this remeeting. And then his eye went flitting, with a certain interrogativeness, from mother to daughter. "Such an agreeable coincidence," beamed the good little lady. "Or perhaps this is not your first visit here, like ours? When did you return? Carlisle...." Carlisle, having forgotten more about the Great Game than her mother would ever know, was far from effusive. Advancing half a step from the bookcase, and offering the tips of white-gloved fingers, she said, smiling perfunctorily: "How nice to see you. And Willie Kerr, our very delinquent host,--do you bring us news of him?" "I'm told that he's unluckily detained downtown. But, indeed, it's charming to find you awaiting him too, Miss Heth." Mrs. Heth sparkled, and declaimed of Willie's remissness. Canning stood in the middle of the floor, hat and stick under his arm, looking without pretences at Carlisle. Under the agreeable indifference of his seemingly amused eye, she felt her color mounting, which only brightened her loveliness. Perhaps it was not quite so easy to maintain the reasoning of beautiful ladies here on the firing-line, as in the maidenly cloister at home. "Why are men the unreliable sex, Mr. Canning?" said she, laughing. "Here Willie begs us for days to visit him at his rooms--I believe he thinks there's something rather gay and wicked about it, you know, though mamma picked them out for him!--and assures us on his honor as a banker that he is in every afternoon by five at the very latest. So we inconvenience ourselves and come. And now--look!" "At what, Miss Heth? I trust nothing serious has happened?" "Ah, but our time is so valuable, you see. We must leave without even saying how-do-you-do. Don't you think so, mamma?" "So it seems," said Mrs. Heth, and sank into a chair. Canning smiled. "Very pleasant little diggings he has here," he observed casually--"my first glimpse of them. I happened to be coming in town on business, and Kerr invited me particularly to drop in to see them, at half after five sharp." "Really! How _very_ fortunate we are! But, oh, why didn't you come a little earlier and charitably help us through the wait? We've had nothing on earth to do but read and reread 'The Cynic's Book of Girls.'"