The bishop spoke over the heads of the others, who looked dazed.

“Does that mean,” he inquired mildly, “that—­guests must either obey this new order of things or go away?”

Mr. Pierce looked at the bishop and smiled.

“I’m sorry, sir,” he said, “but as every one is leaving, anyhow—­”

They fairly jumped at him then.  They surrounded him in a howling mob and demanded how he dared to turn them out, and what did he mean by saying they were overfed, and they would leave when they were good and ready and not before, and he could go to blazes.  It was the most scandalous thing I’ve ever known of at Hope Springs, and in the midst of it Mr. Pierce stood cool and quiet, waiting for a chance to speak.  And when the time came he jumped in and told them the truth about themselves, and most of it hurt.

He was good and mad, and he stood there and picked out the flabby ones and the fat ones, the whisky livers and the tobacco hearts and the banquet stomachs, and called them out by name.

When he got through they were standing in front of him, ashamed to look at one another, and not knowing whether to fall on him and tear him to pieces, or go and weep in a corner because they’d played such havoc with the bodies the Lord gave them.  If he’d weakened for a minute they’d have jumped on him.  But he didn’t.  He got through and stood looking at them in their sheets, and then he said coolly: 

“The bus will be ready at two-thirty, gentlemen,” and turning on his heels, went into the office and closed the door.

They scattered to their rooms in every stage of rage and excitement, and at last only Mr. Sam and I were left staring at each other.  “Damned young idiot!” he said.  “I wish to heavens you’d never suggested bringing him here, Minnie!”

And leaving me speechless with indignation, he trailed himself and his sheet up the stairs.

CHAPTER XXII

HOME TO ROOST

I couldn’t stand any more.  It was all over!  I rushed to my room and threw myself on the bed.  At two-thirty I heard the bus come to the porte-cochere under my window and then drive away; that was the last straw.  I put a pillow over my head so nobody could hear me, and then and there I had hysterics.  I knew I was having them, and I wasn’t ashamed.  I’d have exploded if I hadn’t.  And then somebody jerked the pillow away and I looked up, with my eyes swollen almost shut, and it was Doctor Barnes.  He had a glass of water in his hand and he held it right above me.

“One more yell,” he said, “and it goes over you!”

I lay there staring up at him, and then I knew what a fright I looked, and although I couldn’t speak yet, I reached up and felt for my hairpins.

“That’s better,” he said, putting down the glass.  “Another ten minutes of that and you’d have burst a blood vessel.  Don’t worry.  I know I have no business here, but I anticipated something of this kind, and it may interest you to know that I’ve been outside in the hall since the first whoop.  It’s been a good safety-valve.”