"Mercy!" she said, "a reporter!"

St. George bowed.

"But I never receive reporters!" she cried, "Olivia--don't you
know? A newspaper reporter like that fearful man at Palm Beach, who
put me in the Courtney's ball list in a blue silk when I never wear
colours."

"Now really, really, this intrusion--" began Mr. Frothingham, his
long, unclosed hands working forward on his knees in undulations, as
a worm travels.

Miss Holland turned to St. George, the colour dyeing her face and
throat, her manner a bewildering mingling of graciousness and
hauteur.

"My aunt is right," she said tranquilly, "we never have received any
newspaper representative. Therefore, we are unfortunate never to
have met one. You were saying that we should send some one to
McDougle Street?"

St. George was aware of his heart-beats. It was all so unexpected
and so dangerous, and she was so perfectly equal to the
circumstance.

"I was asking to be allowed to go myself, Miss Holland," he said
simply, "with whoever makes the investigation."

Mrs. Hastings was looking mutely from one to another, her forehead