had better breakfast in her room, or if it would be entirely proper for
her to come to the table in one of those fluffy lace-trimmed garments
such as Agatha affected at the day's beginning?

The question was a nice one. It was not as though servants were willing
to be bothered with carrying trays to people's rooms; he knew what
Agatha had to say upon that subject. It was not as though he were the
chit's first cousin, either. He almost wished himself in the decline of
life, and free to treat the girl paternally.

And so he fretted all that afternoon.

* * * * *

Then, too, he reflected that it would be very awkward if Agatha should
be unwell while this Patricia person was in the house. Agatha in her
normal state was of course the kindliest and cheeriest gentlewoman in
the universe, but any physical illness appeared to transform her nature
disastrously. She had her "attacks," she "felt badly" very often
nowadays, poor dear; and how was a Patricia person to be expected to
make allowances for the fact that at such times poor Agatha was
unavoidably a little cross and pessimistic?




V


Yet Colonel Musgrave strolled into his garden, later, with a tolerable