have the mystery of the prodigal brother co-ordinated with
the painter-cousin's story. We--but of what avail was it to grumble? He
had set out to tell his tale in his own way and it was only right that
we should permit him to do so.

In one thing I agreed with Bill and differed from Mac--the question of
"Gladys."

"So her name's 'Gladys'?" said he, when he had brought Miss Fraenkel's
knowledge up to date.

"Oh, no!" exclaimed Bill. "Oh, no!"

"He said so," persisted her husband.

"No," I said, "so far he has not mentioned Mrs. Carville."

He came round to our view in the end, when I reminded him of the
_scaldino_. Personally, the idea was incredible. When I thought of Mrs.
Carville bending over the brazier, of her dark, noble face with its
large tragic eyes, and then of the smart convent-bred miss who was
called Gladys--absurd!

Miss Fraenkel remained faithful to her mission throughout the meal, and
enlisted our sympathy by recounting the struggles of Mrs. Wederslen to
capture the league for her own social purposes. It was an old story,
this of the ambition of Mrs. Wederslen. Mrs. Wederslen seemed to think
that in a community of artists the art-critic's wife is queen. Mrs.
Williams had rebelled against this, and there was tension between them.
Mrs. Wederslen had even made the insane experiment of trying to
patronize Bill. There had been a meeting, a few words on each side, and
the rest was silence. Without any definite verbal information on the
point, Mac and I knew that Bill's tongue would be stilled in death ere
she would speak charitably of Mrs. Wederslen. And here were Miss
Fraenkel's piquant features aglow with a flush of indignation and her
hazel eyes aflame with ladylike resentment, because that imperious woman
was endeavouring to assert her sovereignty over the league. In the great
problems thus raised it seemed likely that the smaller matter of Mrs.
Carville's allegiance might be swamped. I endeavoured to bring this
discussion into alignment with my own imaginings, a common human
weakness.

"But perhaps she's like me, hasn't got a vote," said Bill.

"Well," said Miss Fraenkel, "she may have some day. And anyhow, the
great thing is to spread the light in dark places. We want every woman
to know her power. Mrs. Wederslen----"

She began again. Mrs. Wederslen had done the one thing needful to rouse
Miss Fraenkel's feelings towards her to the temperature of Bill's: she
had expressed her opinion that ci