oor proof of anything.
Syl, I'm going to get to work seriously soon with my music."

"We'll get a piano," practical Sylvia suggested; "there is no need to
grow rusty while you're making money."

And so they secured the piano, and the studio had another charm.

The Brier Bush, in the meantime, was waxing great in popularity and
financial success. Elspeth Gordon from her position of assurance gave it
a unique touch. No one could take liberties with her tea room. Presently
delicious luncheons were added to the scheme, and, while Joan's part was
regarded with amused complacency, the excellent food and service
commanded respect.

At first women came largely to the pretty, attractive rooms; then,
occasionally, men, rather timidly, presented themselves, but finding
themselves taken for granted and the food above reproach, they appeared
in numbers and enjoyed it.

And then one rather gloomy, early spring day Mrs. Tweksbury came upon
the scene.

Joan knew her at once, although the old face was more wrinkled and
delicate.

Of course Mrs. Tweksbury had not the slightest inkling concerning Joan's
movements, and she looked upon the veiled young creature moving about
the tea room with a cool, calm stare of amused disapproval.

"Quite a faddish thing you're making of your venture," she said to
Elspeth Gordon, for of course with a bishop for a grandfather Miss
Gordon was taken for granted. Elspeth smiled her most dignified smile
and replied graciously:

"Just a bit of amusement, Mrs. Tweksbury. It helps digestion and,
incidentally, helps business."

"But the--the young woman, Miss Gordon--is she a professional?"

"Have you tested her, Mrs. Tweksbury?"

"Oh! no, my dear Miss Gordon." Mrs. Tweksbury had beautiful old hands
and she turned the palms up while she considered them.

"Suppose you judge for yourself, Mrs. Tweksbury." Elspeth was charmingly
easy in her manner.

"Who is she?" bluntly asked the old lady.

"Ah!" And here Elspeth recoiled. "My palmist and my best recipes are
sacred to me, Mrs. Tweksbury. But may I call my little seer to you?"

Mrs. Tweksbury consented, and when Joan looked at the pink, soft palm a
spirit of mischief possessed her.

Skirting as near as she dared to the facts in her possession, she
gently, but startlingly, took the owner of the hand at a disadvantage.

At first Mrs. Tweksbury was confirmed in her idea that the girl before
her was a society girl--her general knowledge could be ex