il and in silhouette against the oval sky-light in the roof
above.

"Yes, and Garry's here, too. Come down."

The patter of little feet grew louder, then the swish of silken skirts,
and with a spring she was beside them.

"No, don't you say a word, Garry. I'm not going to listen and I won't
forgive you no matter what you say." She had both of his hands now.

"Ah, but you don't know, Miss Corinne. Has Jack told you?"

"Yes, told me everything; that you had a big supper and everybody
stamped around the room; that Mr. Morris gave you a ring, or something"
(Garry held up his finger, but she wasn't ready to examine it yet), "and
that some of the men wanted to celebrate it, and that you went to the
club and stayed there goodness knows how long--all night, so Mollie
Crane told me. Paul, her brother, was there--and you never thought a
word about your promise to me" (this came with a little pout, her chin
uplifted, her lips quite near his face), "and we didn't have half men
enough and our cotillion was all spoiled. I don't care--we had a lovely
time, even if you two men did behave disgracefully. No--I don't want
to listen to a thing. I didn't come down to see either of you." (She had
watched them both from her window as they crossed the street.) "What I
want to know, Jack, is, who is Miss Felicia Grayson?"

"Why, Mr. Grayson's sister," burst out Jack--"the old gentleman who came
to see me."

"That old fellow!"

"Yes, that old fellow--the most charming--"

"Not that remnant!" interrupted Garry.

"No, Garry--not that kind of a man at all, but a most delightful old
gentleman by the name of Mr. Grayson," and Jack's eyes flashed. "He told
me his sister was coming to town. What do you know about her, Corinne?"
He was all excitement: Peter was to send for him when his sister
arrived.

"Nothing--that's why I ask you. I've just got a note from her. She says
she knew mamma when she lied in Washington, and that her brother
has fallen in love with you, and that she won't have another happy
moment--or something like that--if you and I don't come to a tea she
is giving to a Miss Ruth MacFarlane; and that I am to give her love to
mamma, and bring anybody I please with me."

"When?" asked Jack. He could hardly restrain his joy.

"I think next Saturday--yes, next Saturday," consulting the letter in
her hand.

"Where? At Mr. Grayson's rooms?" cried Jack.

"Yes, at her brother's, she says. Here, Jack--you read it. Some number
i