d,
her lips kept opening and shutting, like the beak of a bird contemplating
a worm.

Christian spoke first:

"Miss Naylor, I want to tell you please--"

"Oh, my dear! I know; Greta has been in the confessional before you."
She gave the girl's arm a squeeze. "Isn't it a lovely day? Did you ever
see 'Five Fingers' look so beautiful?" And she pointed to the great
peaks of the Funffingerspitze glittering in the sun like giant crystals.

"I like them better with clouds about them."

"Well," agreed Miss Naylor nervously, "they certainly are nicer with
clouds about them. They look almost hot and greasy, don't they.... My
dear!" she went on, giving Christian's arm a dozen little squeezes, "we
all of us--that is, we all of us--"

Christian turned her eyes away.

"My dear," Miss Naylor tried again, "I am far--that is, I mean, to all of
us at some time or another--and then you see--well--it is hard!"

Christian kissed the gloved hand resting on her arm. Miss Naylor bobbed
her head; a tear trickled off her nose.

"Do let us wind your skein of woof!" she said with resounding gaiety.

Some half-hour later Mrs. Decie called Christian to her room.

"My dear!" she said; "come here a minute; I have a message for you."

Christian went with an odd, set look about her mouth.

Her aunt was sitting, back to the light, tapping a bowl of goldfish with
the tip of a polished finger-nail; the room was very cool. She held a
letter out. "Your uncle is not coming back tonight."

Christian took the letter. It was curtly worded, in a thin, toppling
hand:

"DEAR CON--Can't get back to-night. Sending Dominique for things. Tell
Christian to come over with him for night if possible.--Yr. aff. brother,
NICLS. TREFFRY."

"Dominique has a carriage here," said Mrs. Decie. "You will have nice
time to catch the train. Give my love to your uncle. You must take
Barbi with you, I insist on that." She rose from her chair and held
Christian's hand: "My dear! You look very tired--very! Almost ill. I
don't like to see you look like that. Come!" She thrust her pale lips
forward, and kissed the girl's paler cheek.

Then as Christian left the room she sank back in her chair, with creases
in her forehead, and began languidly to cut a magazine. 'Poor Christian!'
she thought, 'how hardly she does take it! I am sorry for her; but
perhaps it's just as well, as things are turning out. Psychologically it
is interesting!'

Christia