ce in my eyes. I caught at
his hand in an unwonted burst of tenderness.

"Let's walk down that old winding street which you told me about last
winter," I said. "I've wanted to see it ever since you spoke about
it."

"We'll probably motor down it instead," he grinned. "There's a real
estate office just opposite here, and I see the agent's flivver in
front of the door, where he stands just inside his office. The spider
and the fly, eh, Madge? Well, Mr. Spider, here are two dear little
flies for you!"

"Oh, Dicky!" I dragged at his arm in protest. "Don't spoil our first
view of that street by whirling through it in a car. Let's saunter
down it first and then come back to the real estate man."

"You have a gleam of human intelligence, sometimes, don't you?" Dicky
inquired banteringly. Then he took my arm to help me across the rough
places in the country road.

We had almost reached the door of the office when Dicky caught sight
of a plainly dressed woman coming toward us. I heard him catch his
breath, his grasp on my arm tightened, and with an indescribable agile
movement he fairly bolted into the real estate office, dragging me
with him.

"I'll explain later," he said in my ear. "Just follow my lead now."

As he turned to the rotund little real estate agent, who came forward
to greet us, a look of surprise on his round face, I looked through
the window at the woman from whose sight he had dodged.

Then I felt that I needed an explanation, indeed.

For the woman whose eyes my husband so evidently wished to avoid was
Mrs. Gorman, Grace Draper's sister.

* * * * *

So I was to live in a house of Grace Draper's choosing, after all!

This was the thought that came most forcibly to me when Mr. Brennan,
the owner of the house Dicky had impetuously decided to rent, told us
that Miss Draper had looked over the place for an artist friend, and
that she would have taken it only for finding another house nearer her
own home.

I was so absorbed in my own thoughts that I did not at first notice
Dicky's embarrassment when Mr. Brennan asked him if he knew Grace
Draper. It was only when the man, who had all the earmarks of a
gossiping countryman, repeated the question, that I realized Dicky's
confusion.

"Did you say you knew her?"

"Yes, I know her; she works in my studio," remarked Dicky, shortly.

"Oh!" The exclamation had the effect of a long-drawn whistle. "Then
you probably were the