no
mistake.

Soon after this the two girls left the tea-party, and while Jenny
dressed herself to go down to the theater, they discussed Mr. Z.
Trewhella.

"Did you ever hear anyone talk so funny. Oh, May, I nearly split myself
for laughing. Oh, he talks like a coon."

"I thought he talked like a gramaphone that wants winding up," said May.

"But what a dreadful thing to talk like that. Poor man, it's a shame to
laugh at him, though, because he can't help it." Jenny was twisting
round to see that no dust lay on the back of her coat.

"I wonder what he'll think of you dancing," May speculated. "But I don't
expect he'll recognize you."

"I think he will, then," contradicted Jenny as she dabbed her nose with
the powder-puff. "Perhaps you never noticed, but he looked at me very
funny once or twice."

"Did he?" said May. "Well, I'm jolly glad it wasn't me or I should have
had a fit of the giggles."

Presently, under the scud of shifting clouds, Jenny hurried through the
windy shadows of twilight down to the warm theater. When she was back in
the bedroom that night, May said:

"Mr. Trewhella's struck on you."

"What do you mean?"

"He is--honest. He raved about you."

"Shut up."

"He went to see you dance and he's going again to-morrow night and all
the time he's in London, and he wants you and me to go to tea again
to-morrow."

"I've properly got off," laughed Jenny, as down tumbled her fair hair,
and with a single movement she shook it free of a day's confinement.

"Do you like him?" May inquired.

"Yes, all right. Only his clothes smell funny. Lavingder or something. I
suppose they've been put away for donkey's years. Well, get on with it,
young May, and tell us some more about this young dream."

"You date," laughed her sister. "But don't make fun of the poor man."

"Oh, well, he is an early turn, now isn't he, Maisie? What did dad say
to him?"

"Oh, dad. If beer came from cows, dad would have had plenty to say."

"You're right," agreed Jenny, standing rosy-footed in her nightgown. She
gave one critical look at her image in the glass, as if in dreams she
meant to meet a lover, then put out all lights and with one leap buried
herself in the bedclothes.

On the following afternoon during tea Mr. Trewhella scarcely took his
eyes off Jenny.

"Well, how did you enjoy the ballet?" she inquired.

"I don't know so much about the ballet. I was all the time looking for
one maid in that great old magi