with windows
facing a garden of geraniums. Tom Gates had been at the house two days
before he encountered Eliza Parsons at the table, for the servants were
not all able to take their meals at the same time.

It was at luncheon, the day of the joint debate at Fairview, that the
young man first met Eliza, who sat opposite him. The only other person
present was old Donald, the coachman, who was rather deaf and never paid
any attention to the chatter around him.

As he took his seat Tom gave a half-frightened glance into Eliza's face
and then turned red as she smiled coquettishly and said:

"Dear me! It's the young man who called me his dear Lucy."

"You--you're very like her," stammered Tom, unable to take his eyes from
her face. "Even now I--I can't believe I'm mistaken."

She laughed merrily in a sweet, musical voice, and then suddenly stopped
with her hand on her heart and cast at him a startled look that was in
such sharp contrast to her former demeanor that he rose from his chair.

"Sit down, please," she said, slowly. And then she studied his face with
sober earnestness--with almost wistful longing. But she shook her head
presently, and sighed; and a moment later had regained her lightness of
manner.

"It's a relief to have a quiet house for a day, isn't it?" she asked,
eating her soup calmly. "I'll be glad when the election's over."

"Have you been here long?" he asked, although Beth had told him of
Eliza's coming to Elmhurst.

"Only a short time. And you?"

"Two days," said he. "But where did you live before you came here?"

She shook her head.

"I wish you would answer me," he begged. "I have a reason for asking."

"What reason?" she demanded, suddenly serious again.

"Two people have never lived that were so near alike as you and Lucy
Rogers."

"Indeed?"

"Will you show me your left arm?"

"No."

She was again studying his face.

"If you are Lucy Rogers you have a scar there--a scar where you burned
yourself years ago."

She seemed frightened for a moment. Then she said:

"I have no scar on my left arm."

"Will you prove it?"

"No. You are annoying me. What did you say your name is?"

"Tom Gates."

She was thoughtful for a moment and then shook her head.

"I have never heard of you," she declared, positively, and resumed her
eating.

Tom was nonplussed. One moment he believed she was Lucy, and the next
told himself that it was impossible. This girl possessed mannerisms that
L