He was still out when Maud returned. I was in the lower hall sorting over music rolls for the organ when I heard her car drive up. Thomas, one of the two footmen, was at the door, and when I looked up, Gus, her own chauffeur, was helping her out. I caught a glimpse of her face, and for a minute I thought she was dying. She was entirely white, and Gus was holding her by the arm as though she was unable to walk. I rushed out and took her other arm.

“Are you sick?” I asked.

She did not answer, but she shook her head faintly.

“Get me inside,” she said feebly. “And call Hilda.”

We got her into the hall and then Tony came in from the garage and saw her. He looked dazed.

“What’s happened?” he said. “What’s wrong, darling?”

He got down on his knees beside her and rubbed those big shapely hands of hers. For some reason men always seem to think that will help. But there was sheer devotion in his upturned face as well as fright, and I liked him better than I had before. Gus had followed us in and Tony turned on him.

“Hit somebody with the car?” he asked sharply.

“No, sir. She was all right up to an hour or so ago. We’d left town and I happened to look back in the mirror. She was kind of slumped in the seat, so I stopped the car and asked if she wanted a doctor. She said no, to bring her home.”

All through this Maud sat still; our cheerful laughter-loving Maud, sitting there as though she were alone, not listening, not hearing. Hilda brought some aromatic ammonia and she swallowed it obediently. I took her pulse, to find it weak and thin, but steady. The hall seemed to be full of people by that time: Reynolds and the footmen, Thomas and Stevens; Hilda, Mrs. Partridge, wringing her hands, and Tony and myself.

I took hold of the situation as best I could, sending Hilda to turn her bed down, Reynolds to the elevator, and Tony to call Bill Sterling. But Maud rallied then. She tried to sit up and straighten her hat.

“I don’t want a doctor,” she said. “It was the heat. I’m all right.”

And then the thing became pure farce, for we got her into the elevator only to have it stick halfway between floors. Luckily there was a seat in it, and I held her there while Tony yelled orders and vituperation at everybody within hearing distance. It was a full hour before the local electrician arrived, an hour when Bill Sterling tried to shout his directions from below and Tony alternately pressed buttons and watched his mother.

When at last we were lowered to the hall again, Maud had recovered somewhat. For the first time she seemed to be aware of us standing around her.

“Good heavens, what a fuss!” she said. “Don’t look so worried, Tony.” She took off her hat and ran her hand over her hair. “I must be a sight. I think I’ll go to bed. Where’s Hilda?”