r not she meant it as a call. Probably she didn't
herself know what she meant. Only, she was in need of help, of comfort,
and involuntarily turned to the strongest, most dependable personality
in her small world. I would have given all my faculty as a writer--my
dearest possession--to have been in Somerled's place--to have had her
appealing to me while her air-castle crumbled.

He went to her at once, and spoke to Mrs. Bal, who had not seen him till
that instant. She blushed slightly at sight of him, I noticed; and I
wondered whether she had flirted, or tried to flirt, in the past with
the artist-millionaire. It was impossible to guess whether she were
pleased or displeased, but evidently his appearance on the scene was
ruffling in one way or another to the lady's emotions. "This is a
surprise!" I heard her say, in a softer, fuller tone than she had had
time to put into her first sharp exclamation at sight of Barrie.

Then both voices dropped. The two talked together while the girl stood
by in silence, pale and expectant, depending on Somerled. Mrs. Bal said
something which made Somerled laugh--one of his cynical laughs, such as
I hadn't heard from him lately. Not once had he looked at Barrie. All
his attention was for the mother. She asked a question. Answering it, he
indicated Mrs. James and me.

"Oh, please introduce them!" Mrs. Bal commanded pleasantly.

This was a signal for us to approach.

"Mr. Basil Norman," she said. "You are the author, of course. How nice
to meet you! Of course I read your books. And your sister who
collaborates--where is she?"

"I don't know yet whether she's arrived or not," I explained. "I meant
to ask at the desk----"

"I want to know her. Please tell her so. And this is Mrs. James. Why,
yes, of course! I remember you--in the days of my captivity." She
laughed a childlike, impish laugh. (Barrie has one rather like it, but
more spontaneous, less effective.) "You haven't changed."

"Oh, thank you, dear Mrs. MacDonald," exclaimed the little woman,
radiant with pleasure--for I've found out that her two great desires are
to keep her youthful looks, and to be intellectually worthy of the
vanished doctor. "I'm sure _you_ are not in the _least_ altered, though
it must be seventeen years----"

"Oh, my dear Mrs. James, don't--_please_ don't!" cried Mrs. Bal,
laughing and dimpling, and holding up both gloved hands in mock prayer.
"Don't mention the number of years. This is getting to be si