er-in-law. Still she never said a word of it, and when the
grandson came she was too overjoyed to complain of anything.

It was only of late that people had begun to whisper of the frequency
with which Ferdy Wickersham was seen with Mrs. Norman. Certain it was
that he was with her a great deal.

That evening Alice Lancaster was dining with the Norman Wentworths. She
was equally good friends with them and with their children, who on their
part idolized her and considered her to be their especial property. Her
appearance was always the signal for a romp. Whenever she went to the
Wentworths' she always paid a visit to the nursery, from which she would
return breathless and dishevelled, with an expression of mingled
happiness and pain in her blue eyes. Louise Wentworth knew well why the
longing look was there, and though usually cold and statuesque, she
always softened to Alice Lancaster then more than she was wont to do.

"Alice pines for children," she said to Norman, who pinched her cheek
and, like a man, told her she thought every one as romantic and as
affectionate as herself. Had Mrs. Nailor heard this speech she would
have blinked her innocent eyes and have purred with silent thoughts on
the blindness of men.

This evening Mrs. Lancaster had come down from the nursery, where shouts
of childish merriment had told of her romps with the ringletted young
brigand who ruled there, and was sitting quite silent in the deep
arm-chair in an attitude of profound reflection, her head thrown back,
her white arms resting languidly on the arms of the chair, her face
unusually thoughtful, her eyes on the gilded ceiling.

Mrs. Wentworth watched her for a moment silently, and then said:

"You must not let the boy tyrannize over you so."

Mrs. Lancaster's reply was complete:

"I love it; I just love it!"

Presently Mrs. Wentworth spoke again.

"What is the matter with you this evening? You seem quite distraite."

"I saw a ghost to-day." She spoke without moving.

Mrs. Wentworth's face took on more interest.

"What do you mean? Who was it?"

"I mean I saw a ghost; I might say two ghosts, for I saw in imagination
also the ghost of myself as I was when a girl. I saw the man I was in
love with when I was seventeen."

"I thought you were in love with Ferdy then?"

"No; never." She spoke with sudden emphasis.

"How interesting! And you congratulated yourself on your escape? We
always do. I was violently in love with a lit