Grace Paradine laid an affectionate hand on her arm. She said,

“You’re a very devoted mother, my dear.”

And then Phyllida came up. Irene turned to her.

“Oh, Phyl, I’ve been so worried all day! It was Rena-she had a spot on her chest, and of course I took her temperature at once…”

Grace moved a little away. Frank Ambrose joined her.

“Irene been boring you with the kids’ ailments? She’s always at it. They’re perfectly healthy children, but she worries herself to fiddle-strings over them. If it isn’t one thing it’s another. She’s got a good nurse, and she doesn’t trust her a yard. Look here, Aunt Grace, can’t you put in a word about it? There isn’t anyone else she’d take it from.”

“She’s young,” said Grace Paradine in an indulgent tone.

“She won’t be if she goes on like she’s doing. She can’t do this, and she can’t do that, and she won’t do the other, and it’s always the same excuse-Jimmy’s nose wants blowing, or Rena’s had a sneeze, or a hiccup, or a cough. Why, it was all I could do to get her here tonight.”

Grace Paradine turned a sympathetic look upon him.

“Poor old Frank,” she said.

Lydia, glancing across at them from the other side of the hearth, watched the sulky look fade out of Frank’s face. The heavy lines relaxed. He talked. Miss Paradine listened. Every now and then she smiled.

Lydia shot a sparkling glance at Dicky.

“The best butter-” she murmured.

But when he stared and said “Hullo-what’s that?” she only laughed and said, “ Alice in Wonderland, darling.”

And then the door at the end of the room was opened and three people came in. James Paradine first, very imposing. The black and white of evening dress confers an undue advantage upon those to whom much has already been given.