Lorry was weighing in his mind the advisability of asking them to dine in the evening with his mother, but two objections presented themselves readily.  First, he was afraid of this perverse maid; second, he had not seen his mother.  In fact, he did not know that she was in town.

“At two o’clock, I fancy.  That will give us the afternoon.  You leave at nine to-night, do you not?”

“Yes.  And will you dine with us this evening?” Her invitation was so unexpected, in view of all that had happened, that he looked askance.  “Ach, you must not treat my invitation as I did yours!” she cried, merrily, although he could detect the blush that returns with the recollection of a reprimand.  “You should profit by what I have been taught.”  The girl abruptly threw her arm about her aunt and cried, as she drew away in the direction of her room:  “At two, then, and at dinner this evening.  I bid you good morning, Mr. Lorry.”

The young man, delighted with the turn of affairs, but dismayed by what seemed a summary dismissal, bowed low.  He waited until the strange trio entered the elevator and then sauntered downstairs, his hands in his pockets, his heart as light as air.  Unconsciously he jingled the coins.  A broad smile came over his face as he drew forth a certain piece.  Holding it between his thumb and forefinger he said: 

“You are what it cost her to learn my name, are you?  Well, my good fellow, you may be very small, but you bought something that looks better than Guggenslocker on a hotel register.  Your mistress is an odd bit of humanity, a most whimsical bit, I must say.  First, she’s no and then she’s yes.  You’re lucky, my coin, to have fallen into the custody of one who will not give you over to the mercy of strangers for the sake of a whim.  You are now retired on a pension, well deserved after valiant service in the cause of a most capricious queen.”

In an hour he was at home and relating to his mother the story of his wanderings, neglecting, for reasons best known to himself, the events which occurred after Denver had been left behind, except for a casual allusion to “a party of foreigners.”  At one o’clock, faultlessly attired, he descended to the brougham, telling Mrs. Lorry that he had invited some strangers to see the city.  On the way downtown he remembered that he was in business, the law business—­and that it would be well to drop in and let his uncle know he was in the city.  On second thought, however, he concluded it was too near two o’clock to waste any time on business, so the office did not know that he was in town until the next day, and then to no great extent.

For several hours he reveled in her society, sitting beside her in that roomy brougham, Aunt Yvonne opposite, explaining to her the many places of interest as they passed.  They entered the Capitol; they saw the White House, and, as they were driving back to the hotel, passed the President of the United States.