Mayfair,--started quickly toward the members of their fraternity. But
the young gentleman remained behind with their stout admitter.

"Huh--thought that was really your size--tackling a servant!"
commented the caustic colonel.

But the reporter from "Town Gossip" smiled and did not reply; and the
three disappeared into the reception-room. The young gentleman,
very politely, half pushed, half followed the stout woman out of the
reception-room's range of vision.

"Just leaving, I suppose," he remarked with pleasant
matter-of-factness.

"Yes, sir. My bags are down at the basement door. When I heard the
ring, I just happened--"

"I understand. You wouldn't have answered the door, if almost all the
regular servants had not been gone. Now, I'd say," smiling engagingly,
"that you might be the cook, and a mighty good cook, too."

He had such an "air," did this young man,--the human air of the real
gentleman,--that, despite the unexpectedness of his overture, the
stout woman, instead of taking offense, flushed with pleasure.

"I ought to be a good one, sir; that's what I'm paid for."

"Seventy-five a month?" estimated the young gentleman.

"Eighty," corrected the cook.