still richer robes, and so carefully made up by
powder and paint that at a distance she looked but little older than the
girls. Coming toward Bradford with an expression of playful inquiry, she
said: "Is this Mr. Bradford? I am Mrs. Latham. Did you wish to see me?
I've only a moment to spare, for at three o'clock I lose my identity and
become a Geisha girl."

Bradford was embarrassed for a moment, even quite disconcerted. Why
should he have taken it for granted that Sylvia had spoken of him, and
that he should be known to her mother? But such was the case, and he felt
bitterly humbled.

"I was one of Miss Latham's instructors at Rockcliffe two years ago. I
have returned now to spend the vacation with my mother, whom perhaps you
know, at Pine Ridge, and finding that you have come to live
here--I--ventured to call." If poor Bradford had desired to be stiff and
uninterestingly didactic, he could not have succeeded better.

"Ah, yes--Rockcliffe--Sylvia was there for a couple of years, and will
doubtless be glad to hear of the place. I myself never approved of
college life for girls, it makes them so superior and offish when they
return to society. Even two years abroad have not put Sylvia completely
at her ease among us again.

"We do not live here; this is merely a between-season roost, and we leave
again next week, so I have not met your mother. The only one of the name
I recollect is an old country egg woman back somewhere in the hills
toward Pine Ridge. You will find Sylvia at Mrs. Jenks-Smith's, just
above, at the rose booth. Pardon me if I leave you now, I have so much on
my hands this afternoon."

Thus dismissed, Bradford went out into the light again. He noticed for
the first time that his horse and buggy, standing unheeded where he left
them, looked strangely out of date, and as he went down the steps, the
horse turned his head, and recognizing him, gave a joyful whinny that
caused the grooms to grin. He could feel the colour rising to his very
eyes, and for a moment he determined to go home without making any
further effort to find Sylvia, and he felt grateful that his mother had
declined his invitation to come with him to the festival.

His mother, "the egg-woman"! What would she have thought of Sylvia's
mother thus painted and transformed in the name of charity? He
experienced a thrill of relief at the escape.

As he found himself on the free highway once more, he faltered. He would
see how Sylvia bore h