the catch in my voice.
"There. Think nothing more about it. We won't talk seriously another
moment. Dinner will be announced directly. Let us have Perkins light a
fire."

CHAPTER XXIII

AN ENCOUNTER WITH BRECK

Mrs. Sewall didn't remain long with me in the library after dinner. She
excused herself to retire early. I was to read aloud to her later, when
Marie called me. I was dawdling over a bit of sewing as I waited. My
thoughts were busy, my cheeks hot. The experience of the day, climaxing
in Mrs. Sewall's warm words, had excited me, I suppose. I wondered if
first nights before footlights on Broadway could be more thrilling than
this success of mine. Was it my new feeling of sisterhood that so elated
me--or was it, more, Mrs. Sewall's capitulation? Was I still susceptible
to flattery?

"Well, hello!" suddenly somebody interrupted.

I recognized the voice. My heart skipped a beat, I think, but my
practiced needle managed to finish its stitch.

"Hello, there," the voice repeated, and I looked up and saw Breckenridge
Sewall smiling broadly at me from between heavy portieres.

"Hello, Breck," I said, and holding my head very high I inquired, "What
are you doing _here_?"

"Oh, I'm stopping here," he grinned. "What are _you_ doing?"

"You know very well what I'm doing," I replied. "I'm your mother's
private secretary. What are you doing around here, Breck?"

He laughed. "You beat 'em all. I swear you do! What am I doing around
here! You'd think I didn't have a right in my own house. You'd think it
was your house, and I'd broken in. Well, seeing you ask, I'll tell you
what I'm doing. I'm observing a darned pretty girl, sitting in the
corner of one of my sofas, in my library, and I don't object to it at
all--not at all. Make yourself quite at home, my girl. Look here, aren't
you glad to see a fellow back again?" He came over to me. "Put your hand
there in mine and tell me so then. I've just come from the steamer.
Nobody's extended greetings to me yet. I'm hurt."

"Haven't you seen your mother?" I inquired coolly.

"Not yet. The old lady'll keep. You come first on the program, little
private secretary. Good Lord--private secretary! What do you know about
that? Say, you're clever. Gee!" he broke off, "but it's good to get
back. You're the first one I've seen except Perkins. Surprised?" He
rested both hands on the table beside me, and leaned toward me. I kept
on sewing. "Come, come," he said, "put it down.