er father's
guardianship; but I am sure she is too fond of you, and has too much
respect for me, to run away from us without a word. Besides, she has no
money."

"Really," said Mary Louise despondently, "it is the strangest thing I
ever knew."

Josie O'Gorman arrived at the hotel at six o'clock in the afternoon,
having caught the fast train from Washington the evening before. She
came in as unconcernedly as if she had lived at the hotel and merely
been out to attend a matinee and greeted the Colonel with a bright
smile and Mary Louise with a kiss.

"My, but I'm hungry!" were her first words. "I hope you haven't dined
yet?"

"Oh, Josie," began Mary Louise, on the verge of tears, "this
dreadful----"

"I know, dear; but we must eat. And let's not talk or think of the
trouble till our stomachs are in a comfortable condition. Which way is
the dining room?"

Neither the Colonel nor Mary had eaten much since Alora's
disappearance, but they took Josie in to dinner, realizing it would be
impossible to get her to talk seriously or to listen to them until she
was quite ready to do so. And during the meal Josie chattered away like
a magpie on all sorts of subjects except that which weighed most
heavily on their minds, and the little thing was so bright and
entertaining that they were encouraged to dine more heartily than they
otherwise would have done.

But afterward, when they had adjourned to a suite that had now been
given them, and which included a cosy little sitting room, and after
the Colonel had been ordered to light his cigar, which always composed
his nerves, the O'Gorman girl suddenly turned serious and from the
depths of an easy chair, with her hands clasped behind her red head,
she said:

"Now to business. Begin at the beginning and tell me all there is to
tell."

"Haven't I written you something about Alora, Josie?" asked Mary
Louise.

"Never mind whether you have or haven't. Imagine I've forgotten it. I
want every detail of the girl's history."

So Mary Louise told it, with a few comments from her grandfather. She
began with their first meeting with Alora and her eccentric father in
Italy, and related not only all the details of their acquaintance but
such facts as Alora had confided to her of her mother's death and her
subsequent unhappy relations with her father and guardian. Alora had
often talked freely to Mary Louise, venting in her presence much
bitterness and resentment over her cruel fate--a