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           "But,"continuedthebutler,hisvoicerisingunnecessarily,"she’stheonlyonewhatishere.Theparty’sgone."

           Amorygaspedinsuddenhorror.

           "What?"

           "She’sbeenwaitin’forAmoryBlaine.That’syou,ain’tit?Hermothersaysthatifyoushowedupbyfive-thirtyyoutwowastogoafter’eminthePackard."

           Amory’sdespairwascrystallizedbytheappearanceofMyraherself,bundledtotheearsinapolocoat,herfaceplainlysulky,hervoicepleasantonlywithdifficulty.

           "’Lo,Amory."

           "’Lo,Myra."Hehaddescribedthestateofhisvitality.

           "Well—yougothere,anyways."

           "Well—I’lltellyou.Iguessyoudon’tknowabouttheautoaccident,"heromanced.

           Myra’seyesopenedwide.

           "Whowasitto?"

           "Well,"hecontinueddesperately,"uncle’naunt’nI."

           "Wasanyonekilled?"

           Amorypausedandthennodded.

           "Youruncle?"—alarm.

           "Oh,nojustahorse—asortagrayhorse."

           AtthispointtheErsebutlersnickered.

           "Probablykilledtheengine,"hesuggested.Amorywouldhaveputhimontherackwithoutascruple.

           "We’llgonow,"saidMyracoolly."Yousee,Amory,thebobswereorderedforfiveandeverybodywashere,sowecouldn’twait—"

           "Well,Icouldn’thelpit,couldI?"

           "Somamasaidformetowaittillha’pastfive.We’llcatchthebobsbeforeitgetstotheMinnehahaClub,Amory."

           Amory’sshreddedpoisedroppedfromhim.