e elder by twenty minutes, was studious,
shy, and too much given to introspection; Barbara, on the contrary, was
whimsical and practical by turns, with a great capacity for enjoyment.
The twins had made their debut jointly on their eighteenth birthday,
and while both were popular, Barbara had received the greater amount of
attention.

Barbara tip-toed into the suite of rooms which the girls occupied over
the library, expecting to find Helen lying on the lounge; instead, she
found her writing busily at her desk. She tossed down her pen as her
sister entered, and, taking up a blotter, carefully laid it across the
page she had been writing.

"Thank heaven, I don't have to go to that supper party," Barbara
announced, throwing herself full length on the lounge.

"So father gave it up," commented Helen. "I am glad."

"Gave up nothing," retorted her sister. "He and Margaret Brewster are
going."

"What!" Helen was on her feet. "You let them go out alone together?"

"They can't be alone if they are together," answered Barbara
practically. "Don't be silly, Helen."

Helen did not answer at once; she had grown singularly pale. Walking
over to the window she glanced into the street. "The car hasn't come,"
she exclaimed, and consulted her wrist watch. "Hurry, Babs, you have
just, time to dress and go with them."

"B-b-but I said I wouldn't go," stuttered Barbara, completely taken by
surprise.

"No matter; tell father you have changed your mind." Helen held out her
hand. "Come, to please me," and there was a world of wistful appeal in
her hazel eyes which Barbara was unable to resist.

It was not until Barbara had completed her hasty toilet and a frantic
dash downstairs in time to spring into the waiting limousine after
Margaret Brewster, that she realized she had put on one of Helen's
evening gowns and not her own.

Benjamin Clymer was standing in the vestibule of the Saratoga, where he
made his home, when the McIntyre limousine drew up, and he did not keep
them waiting, as Colonel McIntyre had predicted he would on the drive to
Clymer's apartment house.

"The clerk gave me your message when I came in, McIntyre," he explained
as the car drove off. "I called up your residence and Grimes said you
were on the way here."

Barbara, tucked away in her corner of the limousine, listened to Mrs.
Brewster's animated chatter with utter lack of interest; she wished most
heartily that she had not been over-persuaded by her sister