“No, friend,” she said kindly.  “I have power enough for both.  The human speech is so poor an agent, is it not?”

A door bell clanged in the house.

“Ah, the Committee of the Ancient Souls.  They were coming from town to-night.  Come here to-morrow night at the same time, Gregorius, and I will tell you what is in my heart.  Meet me here—­at this time—­to-morrow evening.”

William here caught sight of a stray cat at the other end of the garden.  In the character of a cannibal chief he hunted the white man (otherwise the cat) with blood-curdling war-whoops, but felt no real interest in the chase.  He bound up his scratches mechanically with an ink-stained handkerchief.  Then he went indoors.  Robert was conversing with his friend in the library.

“Well,” said the friend, “it’s nearly next month.  Has she landed him yet?”

“By Jove!” said Robert.  “First of April to-morrow!” He looked at William suspiciously.  “And if you try any fool’s tricks on me you’ll jolly well hear about it.”

“I’m not thinkin’ of you,” said William crushingly.  “I’m not goin’ to trouble with you!”

“Has she landed him?” said the friend.

“Not yet, and I heard him saying in the train that he was leaving town on the 2nd and going abroad for a holiday.”

“Well, she’ll probably do it yet.  She’s got all the 1st.”

“It’s bedtime, William,” called his Mother.

“Thank heaven!” said Robert.

William sat gazing into the distance, not seeing or hearing.

“William!” called his mother.

“All right,” said William irritably.  “I’m jus’ thinkin’ something out.”

* * * * *

William’s family went about their ways cautiously the next morning.  They watched William carefully.  Robert even refused an egg at breakfast because you never knew with that little wretch.  But nothing happened.

“Fancy your going on April Fool’s day without making a fool of anyone,” said Robert at lunch.

“It’s not over, is it?—­not yet,” said William with the air of a sphinx.

“But it doesn’t count after twelve,” said Robert.

William considered deeply before he spoke, then he said slowly: 

“The thing what I’m going to do counts whatever time it is.”

* * * * *

Reluctantly, but as if drawn by a magnet, Mr. Lambkin set off to the President’s house.  William was in the road.

“She told me to tell you,” said William unblushingly, “that she was busy to-night, an’ would you mind not coming.”

The tense lines of Mr. Lambkin’s face relaxed.

“Oh, William,” he said, “it’s a great relief.  I’m going away early to-morrow, but I was afraid that to-night——­” he was almost hysterical with relief.  “She’s so kind, but I was afraid that—­well, well, I can’t say I’m sorry—­I’d promised to come, and I couldn’t break it.  But I was afraid—­and I hear she’s sold her house and is leaving in a month, so—­but she’s kind—­very kind.”