't be.... I believe it is!"

Something to make him sit up and take notice now. I didn't wonder at his
fixed study of the young creature. Not so dressed up as the others--I
think she wore what ladies call an evening blouse with a street suit; a
brunette, but of a tinting so delicate that she fairly sparkled, she
took the shine off those blonde girls. Her small beautifully formed,
uncovered head had the living jet of the crow's wing; her great eyes,
long-lashed and sumptuously set, showed ebon irises almost obliterating
the white. Dark, shining, she was a night with stars, that girl.

"Funny thing," Worth spoke, moving his head to keep in line with that
face. "How could she grow up to be like this--a child that wasn't
allowed any childhood? Lord, she never even had a doll!"

"Some doll herself now," I smiled.

"Yeh," he assented absently, "she's good looking--but where did she
learn to dress like that--and play the game?"

"Where they all learn it." I enjoyed very much seeing him interested.
"From her mother, and her sisters, or the other girls."

"Not." He was positive. "Her mother died when she was a baby. Her father
wouldn't let her be with other children--treated her like one of the
instruments in his laboratory; trained her in her high chair; problems
in concentration dumped down into its tray, punishment if she made a
failure; God knows what kind of a reward if she succeeded; maybe no more
than her bowl of bread and milk. That's the kind of a deal she got when
she was a kid. And will you look at her now!"

If he kept up his open staring at the girl, it would be only a matter of
time when the wedding party discovered him. I leaned back in my chair to
watch, while Worth, full of his subject, spilled over in words.

"Never played with anybody in her life--but me," he said unexpectedly.
"They lived next house but one to us; the professor had the rest of the
Santa Ysobel youngsters terrorized, backed off the boards; but I wasn't
a steady resident of the burg. I came and went, and when I came, it was
playtime for the little girl."

"What was her father? Crank on education?"

"Psychology," Worth said briefly. "International reputation. But he
ought to have been hung for the way he brought Bobs up. Listen to this,
Jerry. I got off the train one time at Santa Ysobel--can't remember just
when, but the kid over there was all shanks and eyes--'bout ten or
eleven, I'd say. Her father had her down at the station doing a