Ah, yes! At last, at last! After all my anxiety and worry and fretting and search! There she was! I could have kissed the small, animated grey-eyed face of the girl who was sitting next to the Honourable Jim at the table. However she'd come there, I had at least found her. My long-lost mistress; Miss Million herself! "Oh, it's her!" cried Miss Million's shrill Cockney voice in a sudden cessation of the parrot-like shrieks of talk and laughter as I ran round the table. "Oh, it's my Miss--it's my Miss Smith!" She clapped her hands with impatience, jumping up in her chair. "Have you brought them, Smith?" she demanded eagerly. "Have you got my clothes----" "Oh, 'ark at her!" shrieked some one on the right of the table. "It's all her clothes! Hasn't thought of anything else since she came down----" "Better late than never----" The babble went on all around me, while I strove to make myself heard. "Now we shall see a bit o' style----" "Don't see anything wrong with the blouse the girl's got on, myself----" "Fits where it touches, doesn't it----" Indeed, the garment in which my young mistress's small form was enfolded appeared to be the sort of wrap which a hairdresser's assistant tucks about one when one is going to have a shampoo! "Looks like a purser's jacket on a marling-spike!" sang out some one else; and then more laughter. Well, if they were lunatics, they were at least the cheerful variety! I went up to Miss Million's chair, ignoring the blue glance of the man beside her, and said in my "professional," respectful murmur: "I have brought your dressing-bag and a suit-case, Miss----" "Why ever didn't you bring them down yesterday?" demanded Million, all eyes and shrill Cockney accent. "I didn't know, Miss, where I was to bring them," I replied, feeling the amused gaze of the Honourable Jim upon me as I said it. "But, bless me! I gave the full address," vociferated Miss Million, "in that telegram!" All the lunatics (or whatever they were) were also listening with manifest enjoyment. "There was no address, Miss," I said, as I handed her the wire, which I still kept in my hand. "Yes! But this was the second one I sent!" protested my mistress loudly. "This was when I was at my wit's end and couldn't think why you didn't come! I sent off that first one first thing in the morning; you ought to have got it!" "I never did, Miss," I began. Then a robust, rollicking voice that I confusedly remembered broke in on the discussion. "There you are, you see! What do I always say? Never trust anything except your lookin'-glass, and not that except it's in a cross light," cried the voice gaily. "Certainly don't trust anything with trousers on! Not even if they are ragged ones and tied up with lumps of string! Not even if they do pitch you a tale about having served in the Boer War!" Still feeling as if I were in a weird dream, I turned towards the direction of the voice that enunciated these puzzling sentiments. It proceeded from----