ere everywhere in evidence, were made of the same
embroidered silk which banded the window draperies, while blue strips
of the same material were thrown carelessly over a teakwood table and,
a chest of drawers.

A chaise lounge of bamboo piled with cushions stood underneath the
windows, which commanded a view of the rolling woodland and meadows
I had found so beautiful. Three chairs of the same material completed
the furnishings of the room, save for a wonderful Chinese screen
reaching almost from the ceiling to the floor, which hid a single iron
bed, painted white, of the type used in hospitals, a small bureau,
also painted white, and a shaving mirror.

"Don't want any junk about my sleeping quarters," Dicky explained, as
I looked behind the screen.

"Well, what do you think of it?" he demanded at last, in a hurt tone,
as I finished my inspection of the walls, which were almost covered
with the originals of Dicky's best magazine illustrations, framed in
narrow, black strips of wood.

"It is truly wonderful, Dicky," I returned, trying to make my voice
enthusiastic.

I could have raved over the room, for I did think it exquisitely
beautiful, had not my woman's intuition detected that another hand
than Dicky's had helped in its preparation.

Only a woman's cunning fingers could have fashioned the curtains and
the cushions I saw in profusion about the room. I knew her identity
before Dicky, after pointing out in detail every article of which he
was so proud, said hesitatingly:

"I wish, Madge, you would telephone Miss Draper and ask her to run
over tomorrow and see the room. You see, I was so anxious to surprise
you that I did not want to have you do any of the work, and she kindly
did all of this needlework for me. I know she is very curious to see
how her work looks."

"Of course, I will telephone Miss Draper if you wish it, Dicky, but
don't you think you ought to do it yourself? She is your employee, not
mine, and I never have seen her but twice in my life."

I flatter myself that my voice was as calm as if I had not the
slightest emotional interest in the topic I was discussing. But in
reality I was furiously angry. And I felt that I had reason to be.

"Now, that's a nice, catty thing to say!" Dicky exploded wrathfully.
"Hope you feel better, now you've got it off your chest. And you can
just trot right along and telephone her yourself. Gee! you haven't
been a martyr for months, have you?"

When Dicky ta