Mrs. Roberts, without: "Oh, Edward, is it a burglar?"

Mrs. Campbell, without: "Is it a mouse, Willis?"

Mrs. Roberts: "Ring for the district telegraph—call for a policeman, Edward! Press the ratchet down three times!"

Mrs. Campbell: "Don't kill him, Willis; don't you dare to kill him. Take him up with the tongs and fling him out of the window!"

Mrs. Roberts: "Don't trust him, Edward: get Willis to hold him, and press the ratchet quick!"

Mrs. Campbell: "Keep him from getting back into his hole, for then you never can tell whether he's there or not!"

Mrs. Roberts: "Why don't you answer, Edward? Oh, dear, perhaps he's garroted Edward. I know he has!"

Mrs. Campbell: "Willis, if this is any of your tricks—if it's one of your miserable practical jokes—"

Mrs. Roberts: "Oh, I wonder what they're keeping so quiet for! Edward, are you safe? Do you need me? If you do, just speak, and I will—go for a policeman, myself!"

Mrs. Campbell: "If you don't answer, Willis—" Whimpering: "Oh, he just wants to make me take my life in my hand! He wouldn't like anything better." The two men, during this rapid colloquy, remain silently aghast, staring at each other and at the scene of confusion around them.

Mrs. Roberts: "Well, then, do it, Amy! You have so much more courage than I have, and you have no children; and if you'll only go to the door and peep in I'll stay here, and keep screaming as loud as ever I can. I'll begin now—"

Roberts: "No, no; don't call out, Agnes. It's all right. We've just had a little accident with one of the bureau drawers. It's perfectly safe; but don't come in till we—" He dashes madly about the room, trying to put it in shape. Both ladies instantly show themselves at the door.

Mrs. Roberts, in dismay at the spectacle: "Why, what in the world has happened, Edward?"

Mrs. Campbell: "It's something Willis has put him up to. I knew it was from the way he kept so still. Where is he?"

Campbell, coming boldly forward out of Roberts's dressing-room, where he had previously taken refuge: "I've saved Roberts's life. If it hadn't been for me he couldn't have moved hand or foot. He was dead asleep when I came here, and I've been helping him look for his dress-suit." At these words Mrs. Roberts abandons herself to despair in one of the chairs overflowing with clothes. "Hello! What's the matter with Agnes?"

Mrs. Roberts: "I never can look any one in the face again! To think of my doing such a thing when I've always prided myself on being so thoughtful, and remembering things so perfectly! And here I've been reproaching Edward and poor Willis the whole evening for not coming to that horrid musicale, and accusing them of all kinds of things, and all the time I knew I'd forgotten something and couldn't think what it was! Oh, dear! I shall simply never forgive myself! But it was all because I wanted him to look so nice in it, and I got it pressed while he was away, and I folded it up in the tissue-paper myself, and took the greatest care of it; and then to have it turn out the way it has!"

Campbell: "What in the world are you talking about?"

Mrs. Roberts: "Why, Edward's dress-suit, of course!"

Mrs. Campbell: "Of course she is. But you always have to have things put in words of one syllable for you."

Campbell: "No irrelevant insults, Mrs. Campbell, if you please! Now, Agnes, try to collect yourself. When you had folded his dress-suit in tissue-paper so nicely, what did you do with it?"

Mrs. Roberts: "Why, I wrapped it in my white Chuddah shawl, and put it away back on the top shelf in his closet, and I forgot to tell him where it was." Visible sensation on all sides. "And if Edward were to say now that he couldn't forgive me, I should just simply fall down and worship him."

Campbell: "He can forgive you, probably, but he cannot forget; we must leave that to women. And here we were, searching every nook and corner of the house, and every hole and cranny, for that dress-suit, which you'd poked away in tissue-paper and Chuddah, while you were enjoying yourself at Mrs. Miller's."

Mrs. Campbell: "We weren't enjoying ourselves. It was the deadliest thing that ever was, and you were very lucky to escape."

Campbell: "That is all very well; but the credit of that belongs entirely to a merciful Providence. What I want to know is how Agnes is going to excuse herself for hiding her husband's clothes, so that if this musicale had been the most delightful affair of the season he would have missed it just the same."

Mrs. Roberts, regarding her husband's strange figure in the youthful waistcoat and trousers: "Why, Edward, dear, what in the world have you got on?"

Campbell: "She doesn't even remember the dress-suit in which poor Roberts first met her! Well, Agnes, you're a pretty wife and mother! Look at that man!" He takes Roberts by the elbow and turns him round. "Did you ever see devotion like that? He's buttoned in so tight that he can't draw a full breath to save him, but he would have gone to the party, if he had expired to slow music after he got there; only he couldn't find the coat. You'd given that away."

Mrs. Campbell, fishing up a garment from the tempestuous sea of clothes: "Why, here's a dress-coat, now!"

Campbell: "Yes, that's Merrick's. It was rather snug for Roberts."

Mrs. Roberts: "And here's another!"

Campbell: "Yes, that's Baker's. It was rather roomy for Roberts."

Mrs. Roberts: "But how did you get them?"

Campbell, lightly: "Oh, we sent and borrowed them."

Roberts, less lightly: "We had to do something, Agnes. I knew you would be terribly anxious if I didn't come—"

Mrs. Roberts, with abject contrition: "Oh, don't speak a word, you poor suffering martyr!"

Campbell: "We should have borrowed every coat in the block if you hadn't got back."

Mrs. Campbell: "Yes, and I've no doubt you'd have taken a perfectly fiendish enjoyment in every failure."

Campbell, with a wild, spluttering laugh: "Well, the disappointments certainly had their compensations. Roberts, just let them see how well you look in Merrick's coat! Or, no: try Baker's first; I think Baker's is a little more swell on you, if anything."

Bella, at the door: "Supper is served, Mrs. Roberts."

Campbell: "Supper?"

Mrs. Roberts: "Oh, yes! Mrs. Miller never gives you anything but ice-cream; and I thought we should all need something hot when we got back, and so I had a few—But I forgot all about the supper!"

Campbell: "I'm glad Bella didn't. Better let Bella put Roberts's clothes away, after this."

Mrs. Roberts, in extreme dejection: "Yes, I think I really had, Willis. I'm not fit to be Edward's wife, if I behave that way to him."

Campbell: "Well, well, he must have a divorce, then; but not till after supper."

Mrs. Campbell: "Yes, never mind now, Agnes. It's all turned out well, as it is: Edward has been spared a fearful bore, and nobody will ever be any the wiser about your putting away his evening dress—"

Campbell: "Oh, indeed! Won't they? When Baker and Merrick meet at the club, and exchange notes about Agnes locking up Roberts's clothes—"

Mrs. Roberts, with horror: "Edward! You didn't send that word to them!"

Roberts: "Why—why—I'm afraid we did, something like it, my dear. We had to explain our request, somehow—"

Mrs. Roberts, relaxing into a chair: "Then I simply never can hold up my head again." She lets it fall in typical despair.

Mrs. Campbell, pressing the annunciator, with the energy of a lioness at bay: "I don't believe it's as bad as that. It simply can't be. It would be too abominable." As Bella appears in answer to the bell: "Did you tell the gentlemen, when you went to borrow the coats for Mr. Roberts, that Mrs. Roberts had locked up his dress-suit?"

Bella: "Why, that's what Mr. Campbell said to say, ma'am, but I didn't believe Mrs. Roberts would quite like it, ma'am, and so I said—" She hesitates, and Mrs. Roberts springs to her feet, with arms outstretched to her.

Mrs. Roberts: "What, Bella?"

Bella: "Why, you know, ma'am, I couldn't help thinking how things fly about a house like this."

Mrs. Roberts: "Yes, yes!"

Mrs. Campbell: "Go on!"

Bella: "I didn't believe the gentlemen would have sent word like that themselves, if they'd thought of it; and so—"

Mrs. Roberts: "And so?"

Mrs. Campbell: "So?"

Bella: "I know you like to have me always speak the truth, and so I do, to you, ma'am, and every lady I ever lived with; but I wasn't going to have that young waitress of Mrs. Baker's and that nasty cook of Mrs. Merrick's laughing at us."

Campbell: "Well, and what did you do?"

Mrs. Roberts: "Yes, Bella!"

Bella: "I told Mrs. Merrick's cook that the gentlemen were getting up some charades; and I told Mr. Baker's second girl that the tailor hadn't sent Mr. Roberts's coat home."

Mrs. Campbell: "Well, you were inspired, Bella."

Mrs. Roberts, to Bella: "Oh, you—angel!"

Campbell: "Well, that isn't quite what they call the father of them. Who was the father of what? But we won't dispute about terms. The great thing now is to get at that little supper. Come on, Roberts!"

Mrs. Roberts: "Yes, Edward, take out Amy—"

Roberts, putting himself in evidence: "But don't you see, my dear, I can't draw a full breath now; and if I were to eat anything—"

Mrs. Roberts: "Oh, well, go and change them at once. We won't wait for you, dear, but I'll see to keeping it hot for you."

Campbell, as he follows the ladies out of one door, while Roberts vanishes into his dressing-room through the other; "Yes, just slip on anything that will fit you. It's so near morning now that we won't insist on evening dress."

THE END