leased
her, above all a mouth of dewy scarlet, curving into deep dimples at the
corner.

"Undoubtedly a mouth meant for kissing," mused Channing, the
connoisseur.

He let his imagination go a little. It was a pampered imagination, that
led him occasionally into indiscretions which he afterwards
regretted--not too deeply, however, for after all, one owes something to
one's art. "Psychological experiments," he named these indiscretions. He
suspected that he was on the verge of one now, and tasted in advance
some of the thrills of the pioneer.

And then, quite suddenly, he became aware of Jemima's cool, appraising,
gray-green gaze fastened upon his face; not quite meeting his eyes, but
placed somewhere in the region of the mouth and chin, those features
which Channing euphoniously spoke of to himself as "mobile." The author
started. He resisted an impulse to put a hand up over his betraying
mouth.

"What ho! The pink-and-white one's been making notes on her own
account," he thought.

It was a privilege he usually reserved for himself.

After dinner the phonograph was promptly started, Jacqueline explaining
that the young men were going to teach them to dance.

"Teach you?" exclaimed her mother. "Why, you both dance beautifully."

She had taught them herself from earliest childhood, lessons
supplemented by the best dancing-masters that money could bring to
Storm. Perhaps the prettiest memory the rough old hall held was that of
two tiny girls hopping about together, yellow heads bobbing, short
skirts a-flutter, their baby faces earnest with endeavor.

"Pooh, two-steps and waltzes, Mummy! They're as dead as the polka.
Besides, you can't really dance with another girl."

"Can't you?" Kate sighed. She exchanged a rueful glance with Thorpe,
"Jim, tell me, did _you_ know the polka was dead?"

"I haven't danced since your wedding."

They settled themselves to look on, Kate murmuring, "I hope all this
noise isn't keeping Mag Henderson awake. We've got a new baby upstairs,
did you know it? A poor creature who had no one to look after her at
home."

"So you brought her here--of course! Kate, Kate, isn't it enough that
you take in every derelict dog in the county, without taking in the
derelict infants and mothers as well?"

"I take in the dogs as a sort of atonement to poor old Juno and her
mongrel pups," she said, soberly. "I feel as if Storm owed something to
mongrels. As for this baby, it's a good experience for