end on her father with one or two more
experiences of this kind."

Arethusa perched herself on the arm of Ross's big chair, and Ross
tweaked at her ear affectionately. "Is that not so, mine own daughter?"

Arethusa disregarded this question, and asked one of her own.

"Could I learn bridge, do you reckon?"

Ross jumped. "Shades of Miss Eliza!"

"But could I?" recklessly; "Miss Warren said Mr. Bennet played a
beautiful game and she said it was cards and that he was fond of it."

"I see. I've heard that he did. Well, something will have to be done
about this. Myself, being the sort of player from whom the bridge world
runs as one man cannot help you much. But Elinor might. She is said to
be somewhat proficient at it. We'll give Arethusa a bridge-party, how
about it, Belovedest?"

Elinor agreed, and so Ross suggested a lesson right away.

And Arethusa was just starting off to fetch some cards and have George
bring what Elinor spoke of a "card-table," when George himself knocked
at the door to announce that Miss Arethusa was wanted on the telephone.

"Mr. Bennet wishes to speak to her."

Bridge lessons were forgotten as if they had never been heard of. Every
vestige of color left Arethusa's face. Her hands clasped tightly over
her suddenly tumultuous heart.

"To.... To me, George? To me," she stammered; "are you real sure he
said to _me_?"

George nodded, smiling. "He said, '_Miss_ Worthington,' very plain,
Miss Arethusa."

Then the deepest of red flamed back into her checks and she scuttled
off down the hall so fast that she upset every single rug in her path.

Mr. Bennett was Waiting at the telephone!

CHAPTER XVIII

Arethusa's trembling fingers could hardly find the telephone receiver
at first, and even when once located, they could scarcely keep it to
her ear.

"Hello!" her greeting was soft and almost breathless.

"Hello!" And she recognized the deep drawl immediately. "Is this Miss
Worthington at the 'phone?"

"Yes, it's me, all right!" Arethusa was too excited to be quite
grammatical. "But I've been running to get here, and I've lost my
breath!"

At the other end of the line, Mr. Bennet smiled rather broadly, and his
stenographer, just then depositing a pile of letters to be signed on
his desk, could not help wondering what the young lady had said that
was so funny. Mr. Bennet did not often smile so into a mere telephone.

"Well, this is Gridley Bennet talking."

"I knew it was!"