t."

"We don't know where Nancy is," Caroline answered for him. "It seems
to be all right, though. She's expected, Michael says."

"Where's Nancy?" Betty asked, in her turn, appearing on the threshold
with every hair most amazingly in place.

"Coming," Dick reassured her.

"Has anybody heard from her?" Betty asked.

"Michael has, I think."

"You aren't worried about her, are you?" Caroline asked.

"Yes, I am," Betty said.

"I thought you and Nancy were rather on the outs," Caroline suggested.
"It seems odd to have you worrying about her like her maiden aunt."

"You wait till you see her, you'll be worried about her, too."

"What's wrong?" Dick asked quickly.

"She's lost Sheila for one thing. That unspeakable Collier Pratt--I
hope he chokes on his dinner to-night, and I hope it's a rotten
dinner--has taken the child away."

"The devil he has."

There was a step on the rickety stair.

"Hush! There she is now," Caroline cried.

"No," Betty said quietly, listening. "That's not Nancy. That's your
brother, Caroline."

"I haven't heard his step for such a long time I've forgotten it,"
Billy said.

"I haven't heard it for a long time either," Betty said, her face
draining of its last bit of color.

"Promises to be one of those merry little meals when everybody present
is attended by a tame skeleton," Billy whispered, "except us,
Caroline."

"I don't feel that we have any right to be so happy with the whole
continent of Europe in the state it's in," Caroline whispered in
reply.

"I feel better about the continent of Europe than I did a while back,"
Billy said, contentedly.

"Hello, everybody," Preston Eustace said as Michael held the door for
him. "How's everything, Caroline?"

"All right," Caroline said. Then she added unnecessarily, "You--you
know Betty, don't you?"

"I used to know Betty," he said slowly.

The two looked at each other, with that look of incredulity with which
lovers sometimes greet each other after absence and estrangement.
"This can't be you," their eyes seem to be saying, "I've disposed of
you long since, God help me!"

"How do you do, Preston?" Betty said, giving him her hand. Then she
smiled faintly, and added with a caricature of her usual manner:
"Lovely weather we're having for this time of year, aren't we?"

"I'm very fond of you, Betty,"--Dick smiled as she sank into the chair
beside him and Preston turned to his sister. "I think you're a little
sport."

"I don