Margaret reached for a well-filled date-book.

"You were to decide about those alterations, the porch and dining
room, you know," said she. "There are some architect's sketches around
here; the man's going to be here early in the morning. You said you'd
drive to the yacht club, to see about the stage for the children's
play; you were to stop on the way back and see old Mrs. McNab a
moment. You wanted to write Mrs. Polk a note to catch the 'Kaiserin
Augusta', and luncheon's early because of the Kellogg bridge." She shut
the book. "And call Mr. Carr-Boldt at the club at one," she added.

"All that, now fancy!" said her employer, admiringly.

She had swept some scattered magazines from a small table, and
was now seated there, negligently shuffling a pack of cards in
her fine white hands.

"Ring, will you, Peggy?" said she.

"And the boat races are to-day, and you dine at Oaks-in-the-Field,"
Margaret supplemented inflexibly.

"Yes? Well, come and beat the seven of clubs," said Mrs. Carr-Boldt,
spreading the deck for the draw.

"Fraulein," she said sweetly, a moment later, when a maid had summoned
that worthy and earnest governess, "tell Miss Harriet that Mother
doesn't want her to do her German to-day, it's too warm. Tell her that
she's to go with you and Miss Victoria for a drive. Thank you. And,