Mr. Walraven bit his lip, the baronet looked like a thundercloud, but
both took their places. To all but the mistress of the mansion the
breakfast business was a dead failure. Mrs. Carl ate with a very good
appetite, finished her meal, arose, rang the bell, and ordered the
carriage to be ready in an hour.
The gentlemen adjourned to the library to smoke and wait. The hour
elapsed. Mrs. Walraven departed in state, and dead calm fell upon the
house. Another hour--the waiting twain were growing fidgety and nervous,
crackling their newspapers and puffing at their cigars.
"I vow that mad girl is making me as hysterical as a cranky old maid!"
growled Mr. Walraven. "If she doesn't appear in half an hour, I'll go up
to her room and carry her down willy-nilly!"
"Would yon really be so cruel, guardy?" said a soft voice, and wheeling
round, the astonished pair saw the culprit before them. "Have you no
pity for your poor little Mollie, and can't you let her be as lazy as
she pleases? Good-morning, Sir Roger Trajenna."
How lovely Mollie looked! The golden curls fell in a shining shower over
the dainty white cashmere robe, belted with blue velvet, soft white lace
and a diamond pin sparkling at the rounded throat.
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