itself about her--the cool, sweet fragrance of daintiness. They
entered busily into conversation. Her attitudes were no longer
relaxed and languidly graceful as in the easy chairs under the
lamplight. She sat forward, her hands crossed on her lap, a fire
smouldering deep beneath the cool surface lights of her eyes.

The sounds in the next room increased in volume, as though several
people must have entered that apartment. In a moment or so the
curtains to the hall parted to frame the servant.

"Mrs. Bishop wishes to know, miss," said that functionary, "if
you're not coming to breakfast."

Orde sprang to his feet.

"Haven't you had your breakfast yet?" he cried, conscience stricken.

"Didn't you gather the fact that I'm just up?" she mocked him. "I
assure you it doesn't matter. The family has just come down."

"But," cried Orde, "I wasn't here until nine o'clock. I thought, of
course, you'd be around. I'm mighty sorry--"

"Oh, la la!" she cried, cutting him short. "What a bother about
nothing. Don't you see--I'm ahead a whole hour of good talk."

"You see, you told me in your note to come early," said Orde.

"I forgot you were one of those dreadful outdoor men. You didn't
see any worms, did you? Next time I'll tell you to come the day