y, then he shall stay;
but for myself, I must onward, away for ever from the old tents."

She had lifted her voice slightly on the last words and Mrs. Ames looking
toward her had caught them. "Ah, mademoiselle," she broke in, "whenever
you begin to talk, I've always got to stop and listen. Not because you
utter words of wisdom by any means," she gave a hard little chuckle, "but
because when you talk, I hear again the voice of youth. It rings in your
tones and smiles in your eyes; it's something as effervescent and
sparkling as the bubbles that rise in this wine. You are exactly like the
nightingale in the old French fable. Just as irresponsible. You remember
he sang all summer while the ants toiled unceasingly getting in their
winter stores, and then when winter came, and he pined with hunger, the
thrifty ants said: 'Do you not know that winter follows summer, and that
all roads lead to the desert?'"

Ydo leaned forward all aggression and animation. "But that is a wicked
fable," she cried, "for it tells only one side of the question. It never
tells what the nightingale said to the ants. But I know. He said: 'Pouf!
Chut! I have sung my beautiful songs all summer and now you foolish ants
think I am going to starve. Stupid, short-sighted little insects! I shall
simply spread my wings, and fly away, not to the desert either, but to
the bounteous South, and there, under the great, yellow moon, among the
ilex trees, where the air is heavy with the fragrance of flowers, I shall
sing as you have never dreamed I could sing. Adieu!'"

Mrs. Ames chuckled afresh. "They can't beat you--at any rate."

"By the way," said Hayden suddenly, "isn't that your secretary at the
door?"

Ydo looked up surprised. "Certainly, it is Eunice," she said, "I
wonder--"

Eunice, mournful and repressed, walked primly down the room in the wake
of a waiter and with a murmured word or two with the Mariposa, handed her
a telegram. The latter, still with an expression of perplexity, requested
Mrs. Ames' permission to open it, acquainted herself with its contents,
and then turned to the secretary at her elbow.

"That is all right, Eunice. There is no answer." Then she leaned across
Hayden and spoke to Marcia, "Nothing of any importance," with a faint
shrug of the shoulders, "I dare say you will get one also. He merely says
that he will not be home quite so soon as he expected."

"He!" "He!" Hayden knew a pang of jealousy, like a stab of a stiletto.
W