n, without having things complicated by a row between
Dicky and his mother.

There was trouble, too, in all the housecleaning, the re-arrangement
of our rooms and in the laying in of a stock of provisions to meet
the requirements of the menu for each meal that Mother Graham insisted
upon deciding in advance to please her daughter and the children. And
then, the day they were to arrive, she received a special delivery
letter calmly announcing that they were not coming. But my
annoyance was forgotten in Mother Graham's very apparent and utter
disappointment.

When I broke the news to Dicky he suggested that we have a party
anyway, and Mother Graham sweetly acquiesced in our plans to invite
the Underwoods.

Lillian's voice over the telephone, however, made me forget all my
contentment, and filled me with misgiving. It was tense, totally
unlike her usual bluff, hearty tones, and with an undercurrent in it
that spelled tragedy.

"What is the trouble, Lillian?" I asked, as soon as I had heard her
greeting; "I know something is the matter by your voice."

"Yes, there is," she replied, "but nothing of which I can speak
over the 'phone. Tell me, are you going to have any strangers there
tomorrow?"

How like Lillian the bluff, honest speech was! Almost any other woman
would have hypocritically assured me that nothing was the matter. But
not Lillian Underwood!

"Nobody but the Durkees," I assured her. "They have already promised
to be here. But, Lillian, you surely must get here as soon as you can.
I shall be so worried until I see you. If you don't get here early
tomorrow morning I shall come in after you."

"You couldn't keep me away, you blessed child, if you are going to
have no strangers there," Lillian returned. "I don't mind the Durkees.
But I need you, my dear, very much. Now I must tell you something,
don't be shocked or surprised when you see me, for I shall be somewhat
changed in appearance. Run along to Dicky now. I'll be with you some
time tomorrow forenoon. Good-by."

I almost forgot to hang up the telephone receiver in my bewilderment.
What trouble could have come to Lillian that she needed me? She was
the last person in the world to need any one, I thought--she, whose
sterling good sense and unfailing good-nature had helped me so
many times. And what change in her appearance did she mean when she
cautioned me against being shocked and surprised at seeing her?

My anxiety concerning Lillian stayed with