It was Sally who kept matters running smoothly, her head throbbing all the while.  When the Chases had been finally tucked away—­still ironic—­in their quarters, and the rest of the family had bestowed themselves in the space belonging to them, she sat down by the open window, too weary to undress.  Here Bob, emerging from Uncle Timothy’s room in search of belongings necessary to his comfort, found her.

“Why don’t you go to bed?” he asked.

“I’m going.  But I’d like to sit here all night.”

“You’ll catch cold by that window.  Head still ache?”

“I suppose so.  I’m too tired to feel anything any more.”

“Cheer up.  I’ll be around bright and early and do everything I know.”

“Of course you will, Bobby,” and she held out her hand.  He grasped it.

“Your hand’s hot,” he observed.  “Aren’t sick, are you?”

“Of course not.  I’m never sick.  Go to bed, dear.  I’ll be all right in the morning.”

Optimistically, Bob thought she would.  The next morning, however, the Sally who confronted him looked so far from herself, as she went slowly about the little kitchen, that he was worried, and said so.

“Never mind.  Don’t say anything.  After breakfast I can rest.”

“Can you brace up to get through breakfast?” demanded Bob, anxiously.  Sally assured him that she could, and proved it.  Somehow, after the manner of women, she came to the table with a smile so bright that nobody noticed that she ate almost nothing, that her hand shook as she poured the coffee, and that her long-lashed blue eyes were very heavy.

Immediately after breakfast the Chases were off—­in a cab engaged by Max, in deference to Sally’s wishes.  Neil and Dorothy took a jocose farewell, the one declaring that their presence had stretched the apartment till it could be seen to gape at the seams, the other vowing that Sally must come to see her soon, in order to be able to take a full breath again.  Then the cab bore them away.

“Well, of all the—­” Alec left the sentence unfinished.

Max completed it for him.  “Nerve!  If that’s a sample of legal brilliancy of wit, I’m sorry for the defendant who employs him,” he grunted.

The Chases had arrived on Saturday night, and were continuing their journey without reference to the fact that it was Sunday.  Sally turned back into the passage, remembering that on Sundays her family were to be provided for in the matter of luncheon, and that they were in the habit of looking forward to the extra good things she was accustomed to serve them upon that day.  She sank into a chair and stared at the breakfast-table standing just as they had all left it.

“Don’t you stir, Sis!” cried Bob, returning with the others.  “Al and I’ll do the dishes.”  Then, as he saw an expression of disfavour cross his brother’s face at this unwelcome proposal, he added quickly, “She’s sick, Sally is, with all this, and it’s time somebody noticed it.”