details of the Affair she
had missed. Even Helen Louise and Peter and their mother, charming as
they were, had not proven any sort of substitutes for the Luncheon with
Elinor's friends to which Arethusa had looked forward so long.

"Did Miss Grant come?" she asked.

She was somewhat of a worshipper at Miss Grant's shrine these days
(Miss Grant was a Real, Live Author whose books Arethusa had read) and
it had been planned that she would sit next to her.

"Yes."

It was a disappointing answer, for Arethusa had vaguely hoped that for
some reason she had stayed away.

"Yes," volunteered Ross, "your Celebrity was here, and in fine form. I
heard her delightful voice as I came in, myself. It has a penetrating
quality that probably arises from being so much in the Public Eye."

Arethusa squirmed, unhappily.

"Did she ask where I was?" hopefully.

"No, dear," very gently from Elinor, "I don't suppose she thought for a
moment that you were to be there. You know I was just letting you come
with all those older women, Arethusa, because I was so anxious for you
to really know some of my friends."

"You certainly got yourself in Dutch, my daughter," said Ross, "for
starting up that rival entertainment. And it's a mighty good thing, I
expect, that the adulated Miss Drusilla Grant did not know you felt
that way about her coming to dine. She would have been deeply offended,
I know. She's not used to slights. I doubt very much if she'd ever let
you pick up her handkerchief after such an affront."

"Ross!" exclaimed Elinor, for he had made Arethusa's punishment almost
too complete.

Her downcast head and the trembling of her hands indicated a struggle
with distress, and he reached across the table and patted her arm
kindly. "Cheer up, child," he said, laughing, "she doesn't know a thing
about it, and nobody's going to be mean enough to tell her. We just
won't let it happen again."

Arethusa looked up, her eyes bright with tears, and the fervency of her
promise that she would think like everything first, hereafter, made
Elinor hope that the Recording Angel gives credit for Real Sincerity of
Intention.

* * * * *

Christmas came in snowy and blustery.

It was an ideal Christmas Day, and just such a one as Arethusa had
never spent before; with a Christmas Tree in the morning, and a table
full of guests in the middle of the day, callers all afternoon long,
and presents galore, in th