imself, he could not discover. He
studied the room searchingly and was unable to determine why, attractive
as it really was, it certainly did, upon this cool May evening, lack the
look of warm comfort and hospitality of which his own home was so full.

"Possibly it's because everything is so new," he ventured. "Rooms come to
have a look of home, you know, just by living in them and leaving things
about. It's a pretty room, all right, and I fancy it will take on the
friendly expression you want when you get to strewing your books and
magazines around a little more, and laying your pipe down on the corner of
the mantel-piece, you know--and all that. I can upset things for you in
half a minute if you'll give me leave."

"You have my full permission," said Judith, laughing. "I fancy it's just
as you say: Wayne isn't used to it yet. He always likes his old slippers
better than the handsomest new ones I can buy him. Come--dinner has been
served for five minutes. No more artistic suggestions till afterward."

The dinner was perfect. It should have been so, for a caterer was in the
kitchen, and a hired waitress served the viands without disaster. As a
delectable meal it was a success; as an exhibition of Mrs. Carey's
capacity for home making, it was something of a failure. It certainly did
not for a moment deceive the guests. For the life of her, as Juliet tasted
course after course of the elaborate meal, she could not help reckoning up
what it had cost. Neither could she refrain from wondering what sort of a
repast Judith would have produced without help.

After dinner, as Wayne and Anthony smoked in front of the fireless
mantel-piece in the den, each in a more luxurious chair than was to be
found in Anthony's whole house, Judith took Juliet to task.

"You may try to disguise it," she complained, "but I've known you too long
not to be able to read you. You would rather have had me cook that dinner
myself and bring it in, all red and blistered from being over the stove."

"As long as the dinner wasn't red and blistered you wouldn't have been
unhappy," Juliet returned lightly. "But you mustn't think that she who
entertains may read my ingenuous face, my dear. It isn't necessary that I
attempt to convert the world to my way of thinking. And I haven't told you
that when Auntie Dingley goes abroad with father again this winter I'm to
have Mary McKaim for eight whole months. I can assure you I know how to
appreciate the comfort