ather."

"My dear Tuck!" cried Hood jubilantly, still clutching Deering's arm,
"fate has again been kind to us; we are among folk of quality, as I had
already guessed."

The dining-room was in dark oak; the glow from concealed burners shed a
soft light upon a round table.

"You will sit at my right, Mr. Hood, and Mr. Tuck by my father on the
other side."

Deering pinched himself to make sure he was awake. The next instant the
room whirled, and he clutched the back of his chair for support. A girl
came into the room and walked quickly to the seat beside him.

"Mr Hood and Mr. Tuck, my daughter----"

She hesitated, and the girl laughingly ejaculated: "Pierrette!"

"Sit down, won't you, please," said the little lady; but Deering stood
staring open-mouthed at the girl.

Beyond question, she was the girl of the Little Dipper; there was no
mistaking her. At this point the old gentleman afforded diversion by
rising and bowing first to Hood and then to Deering.

"I am Pantaloon," he said. "My daughter is Columbine, as you may have
guessed."

"It's very nice to see you again," Pierrette remarked to Deering; "but,
of course, I didn't know you would be here. How goes the burgling?"

"I--er--haven't got started yet. I find it a little difficult----"

"I'm afraid you're not getting much fun out of the adventurous life," she
suggested, noting the wild look in his eyes.

"I don't understand things, that's all," he confessed, "but I think I'm
going to like it."

"You find it a little too full of surprises? Oh, we all do at first! You
see grandfather is seventy, and he never grew up, and mamma is just like
him. And I--" She shrugged her shoulders and flashed a smile at her
grandparent.

"You are wonderful--bewildering," Deering stammered.

The old gentleman was inveighing at Hood upon America's lack of mirth;
the American people had utterly lost their capacity for laughter, the old
man averred. Deering's fork beat a lively tattoo on his plate as he
attacked his caviar.

And then another girl entered and walked to the remaining vacant place
opposite him.

"Smeraldina," murmured the mistress of the house, glancing round the
table, and calmly finishing a remark the girl's entrance had interrupted.

Deering's last hold upon sanity slowly relaxed. Unless his wits were
entirely gone, he was facing his sister Constance. She wore a dark gown,
with white collar and cuffs, and her manner was marked by the restraint
of an