ciety woman she had ever seen. Her manner
was gracious and friendly, yet Jack knew instinctively that few people
were ever allowed to fathom her real feelings.

"Surely you see the likeness," Donald whispered boyishly. "It isn't that
their features are so alike, it is something I can hardly explain to you
if you don't see it yourself. I have always thought my mother the most
beautiful person in the world, but your sister is nearly as pretty."

Jack frowned, for she did not care to have Donald Harmon discuss Olive
in this outspoken fashion.

Mrs. Harmon was sitting between Jean and Olive, listening to Jean's
apology for the broken teacups. Like most older people, she was
attracted by her piquant manner and appearance. So far she had paid no
particular attention to Olive, hereby including her with the other in a
general greeting.

Donald strode over to his sister's chair and murmured something under
his breath. Elizabeth flushed, stared across the room and shook her head
pettishly. It was one of the trials of her life that, though she bore no
resemblance to her beautiful mother, her brother was supposed to look
like her.

Olive and Mrs. Harmon had their heads close together. "I say, mother,"
Don broke out impetuously, "for the life of me I can't see why no one
else speaks of it. Miss Olive Ralston looks ten times more like you
than either Elizabeth or I do."

Mrs. Harmon turned to face Olive. "I wish I thought so, Don," she
answered girlishly: "Miss Ralston is so pretty." She took one of Olive's
hands, but Olive was so embarrassed at being the center of all eyes that
she blushed furiously and gazed steadfastly down at her lap.

"I am sorry not to agree with you, Don, dear," Mrs. Harmon answered a
moment later. "This Miss Ralston looks like a foreign girl, an Italian
or Spaniard, and I am a thorough New Yorker. Were your father and mother
western people?" she asked Olive.

Olive's face paled and her lips quivered. Would she have courage to
announce before these strangers that she had no idea who her mother and
father were nor from whence they had come? Before she could find her
voice Jack rushed blindly to the rescue. "Olive is our adopted sister,
Mrs. Harmon," she explained briefly; "but we do not like people to know
it, so we rarely speak of her past. You must forgive her if she does not
answer you."

With perfect good taste Mrs. Harmon immediately changed the conversation
to another subject, but Jack, who was