e inventor, Blossom. How did he come to see
mother before there were automobiles?"

"I don't remember--but you may be sure he came. Regularly every Friday
night, and again Sunday, if encouraged. There! Mother must be stirring.
Look at the dogs."

Mrs. Kildare appeared from the other side of the great tree, moving
rather dazedly, as people move who have just awakened from sleep. The
dogs leaped and gamboled around her, and she put them down with vague,
kind gestures.

"There, Beauty! Never mind! No muddy feet, please, Jock! So, boys, so--"

"Mother, do hurry," called Jemima, with some impatience.

Mrs. Kildare hurried. It had long been her habit to obey her eldest
child, who made her feel at times quite immature and thoughtless.

"What's up, girlies?" she asked.

"Company," they said together.

"Oh, yes. Jim Thorpe's night for supper. But why so much excitement
about it?"

"Only that the automobile is now at the foot of the hill, and your hair
is coming down, and he's going to catch you in an old, faded gingham.
What _am_ I going to do with such a mother?" sighed Jemima. "I don't
believe you ever notice what you put on!"

"I don't," admitted her parent, humbly.

"And you think it's highmindedness, whereas it's just pure vanity. You
know that no matter what you wear, you're more beautiful than everybody
else!" The girl's voice was sternly accusing.

Kate laughed and kissed them both. "You spoil me, dears," she said; but
Jemima's shrewdness made her wince, as it often did.

It was quite true that clothes existed for Kate Kildare only as more or
less comfortable covering for her body; but of that body itself, the
fine, satin skin, the hands, the lustrous hair, she took a care that she
would have scorned to use in the days of her bellehood. She was aware of
her comeliness, and she treasured it; not, however, for herself. She was
a woman of one idea. Never for a moment, despite many failures, had she
relinquished the hope of securing Jacques Benoix' release.

She asked meekly, "What dress am I to wear this evening, please,
Blossom? Dear me! It seems to me you two have made yourselves rather
gorgeous for a mere godfather. He'll be quite dazzled."

Both girls looked down consciously at their pretty frocks. They
exchanged glances.

"It isn't exactly for Professor Jimsy," murmured Jacqueline. "He never
looks at any one but you, anyway. It's--_you_ tell her, Jemmy!"

"No, you!"

In the end, they told her tog