"I think we had better be going," said Lady Adela.

"I suppose so," said Mrs. Welwyn helplessly.

But Lucius Welwyn made a last effort. All seemed lost, yet his inherent polish and _savoir faire_ rebelled against such an inglorious and ignominious end as this.

"I must apologise most sincerely for this _contretemps_, Lady Adela," he said with a ready smile. "Those fellows are two disciples of mine. Law students--British Museum--and so on. They come here periodically to receive instruction from me in my library upstairs"--Lady Adela looked up and regarded him steadily, but he continued with perfect coolness--"but I fear that on this occasion racial animosity has proved stronger than academic unity of purpose. You will understand, I am sure."

"Perfectly," replied Lady Adela. "Come, Sylvia."

Sylvia was quite ready, but at this moment the door flew open once more, and d.i.c.ky and Percy reappeared, flushed, panting, but triumphant.

"It's all right, Mrs. Welwyn," announced d.i.c.ky rea.s.suringly. "The brunette gentleman has bolted himself into the bathroom, and we have locked up the blonde in a broom-cupboard. Hallo, Mum--going?"

"Yes. Come, Sylvia."

"Certainly, Mother," said Sylvia.

d.i.c.ky's ear caught the danger-note in his sister's voice. He stood transfixed, with dismay written across his frank but heated features.

"I say," he stammered. "Mum--Sylvia--what does all this mean?"

"Good-bye, Mrs. Welwyn," said Lady Adela calmly. "Thank you for--ah--entertaining us. I suppose one can get a cab here?"

She shook Mrs. Welwyn's nerveless hand and turned to Mr. Mainwaring, who stood awkwardly smoothing his hat.

"Are you ready, Abel?" she enquired.

Suddenly Tilly Welwyn rose from her knees by her grandmother's side, and, to employ a dramatic expression, took the centre of the stage. She stood face to face with her departing guests, her head thrown back and her hands clenched--a very slim, very upright, very dignified little figure.

"Sit down, please, everybody, if you will be so kind," she said quietly.

"I shan't keep you long."

Lady Adela, looking like a boa-constrictor which has been challenged to mortal combat by a small and inexperienced chicken, stood stockstill, with her head oscillating from side to side in a slightly uncertain fashion. Then, recovering herself, she fell back in good order upon her supporters.

The Welwyns, closing loyally upon their small champion, spoke in anxious undertones.

"Don't chuck up the sponge, Sis," whispered Percy encouragingly. "We'll pull you through."

"Don't lose your head, my child," counselled her father. "You may make things worse."

"Tilly, dearie, can you ever forgive me?" was all Mrs. Welwyn said. She forgot, in her selfless grief for the destruction of her daughter's castle-in-the-air, that she herself had predicted its fall.

Little 'Melia said nothing, but pa.s.sionately squeezed her sister's hand.

"You are all dears," said Tilly in a clear voice, "and I love you for the way you have stood by me to-day; but I want to speak to the others just now."

She took a step forward towards the Mainwarings, who were grouped beside the tea-table. But before she could speak, d.i.c.ky, who had been hovering silently on the outer wing of his own party, crossed the floor and joined her.

"I'll come and stand over here, Tilly," he said, "if you don't mind.

There's a nasty draught in that corner."

Tilly smiled faintly.

"I would rather you did n't," she said, with the suspicion of a tremor in her voice. "Please go over there."

d.i.c.ky responded by standing-at-ease, military fashion.

"Carry on," he said briefly.

"Please, d.i.c.ky!" urged Tilly, "It only makes it harder for me."

d.i.c.ky glanced at her white face, and retired one pace backward.

"That is my limit," he said.

Meanwhile Lady Adela had come to the conclusion that all this was very emotional and undignified.

"Miss Welwyn," she enquired, "what does this mean?"

"I will tell you," said Tilly. "But first of all I must say one thing.

I did not try to trap your son, as you seem to think. We fell--we came to care for one another quite naturally. I made no attempt to catch him. I knew nothing whatever about him. It--it just happened." She turned wistfully to d.i.c.ky. "Did n't it?" she asked.

d.i.c.ky nodded his head gravely.

"It just happened," he said.

"And since we cared for one another--or thought we did"--continued Tilly with a little choke, "it never came into my head that anything else could matter. But last Sat.u.r.day, when I went to stay at your house, and saw your grand ways and your grand servants, and all the commotion you made about Members of Parliament, and county families, and all that--well, I began to see rocks ahead. I felt common. My courage began to fail. I began to be afraid that you would not take kindly to the Family--"

"It was n't you that was afraid, dearie," said a respectful voice behind her. "It was the Family."

"I saw, too, Lady Adela," continued Tilly, "that _you_ were against me--dead against me--and that as soon as you got hold of a decent-excuse I should be bundled out of your son's life, like--like an entanglement.

That put my back up. I had meant to be perfectly straight and unpretentious with you, but when I saw what you were after, I determined to fight. So I have deceived you."

"We all have," murmured a loyal chorus.

"You have been _done_!" proclaimed Tilly defiantly. She was fast losing control of herself. She felt dimly that she was behaving in an hysterical and theatrical manner; but when one's world is tumbling about one's ears, one may be excused for stating the truth rather more explicitly than is usual. "Yes--_done_!" she repeated. "I will tell you just exactly who we are and what we are. Father is a gentleman, right enough"--her voice rang out proudly--"as well-born a gentleman as any of the land; but he has followed no regular profession for twenty years, and he lives on Mother. Mother keeps lodgings. This house is a lodging-house, and those two men you saw were lodgers. Percy works in a wholesale haberdasher's in Holborn. I do a little dress-designing.

'Melia helps Mother with the lodgers. So you see you have been imposed on: we work for a living! But you must n't blame the Family for what has happened. It was my idea from start to finish: the Family only backed me up. And they did back me up! No girl ever had such a splendid father or mother, or brother or sister." Tilly stepped back into the heart of her bodyguard, feeling for friendly hands. "I 'm proud of them," she cried pa.s.sionately, "proud to belong to them! I'm proud that my name is Tilly Welwyn, and I never wish to change it for any other. We Welwyns may be n.o.bodies but we stick together. There!

You may go now."

The drawing-room door creaked and opened, but no one noticed.

"I have told you everything, I think," said Tilly, more calmly. "I know now that I should have told you in any case. That's all.... No, it's not."

She swung round towards the doorway, and pointed to the grotesque figure of that earnest student of the drama, Samuel Stillbottle, who was myopically deciphering a small but tattered doc.u.ment, all but concealed in the palm of his hand.

"We're paupers!" she cried. "We're in debt! We're broke! There's a distraint on the furniture; and that creature"--Mr. Stillbottle, hazily conscious that a cue was coming, furtively thrust his ma.n.u.script into his waistcoat pocket--"that creature is a broker's man! Oh, Mother, Mother, Mother!"

In an instant Martha Welwyn's arms closed round her daughter.