r Carfax's address. But Froggy's answer, when it came, was only
another disappointment:

"Address not known. Did you not receive letter I forwarded?"

Reluctantly Priscilla realised that there was nothing for it but
patience. Carfax would almost certainly write again through Froggy.

That he had not her address she knew, for Froggy was under a solemn vow
to reveal nothing, but she would not believe that he would regard her
failure to keep tryst as a deliberate effort to snub him, though the
fear that he might do so haunted and grew upon her all through the day.

She went to a theatre that night, and later to a dance, but neither
entertainment served to lift the deadening weight from her spirits. She
was miserable, and the four hours she subsequently spent in bed brought
her no relief.

She rose at last in sheer desperation, and went for an early ride in the
Park. She met a few acquaintances, but she shook them off. She wanted to
be alone.

When she was returning, however, her youthful admirer, Lord Harfield,
attached himself to her, refusing to be discouraged.

"I met your cousin at the Club yesterday," he told her.

"What is he like?" Priscilla asked, without much interest.

"Oh, haven't you seen him yet? A very queer fish, with a twang you could
cut with a knife. Don't think you'll like him," said Lord Harfield, who
was jealous of every man who so much as bowed to Priscilla.

Priscilla smiled faintly.

"I don't think so, either," she said. "You are coming to dine with us
to-night, aren't you? He will be there too."

"Will he? I say, what a bore for you! Yes, I'm coming. I'll do my best
to help you," the boy assured her eagerly.

And again Priscilla smiled. She was quite sure that she would be bored,
whatever happened, though she was too kind-hearted to say so.

IX

THE COMING OF HER HERO

"I wonder why Priscilla has put on that severely plain attire? It makes
her look almost ugly," sighed Lady Raffold. "And how dreadfully pale she
is to-night! Really, I have never seen her look more unattractive."

She turned with her most dazzling smile to receive the American
Ambassador, and no one could have guessed that under her smile was real
anger, because her stepdaughter was gracing the occasion in a robe of
sombre black.

All the guests had arrived with the exception of Ralph Cochrane, the
heir-apparent, as Priscilla styled him, and Lady Raffold chatted with
one eye on the door. It was too bad o