e always had for looking
worried; living beyond their incomes, living in uncertainty of any
income at all, and other private reasons, different in each case, but
all quite compelling; there was a reason, and the Colonel's guest of the
week before was connected with it. Others would follow him soon, secret
conferences would take place unrecorded, the Colonel's private telephone
wire would be busy, and the telegrams he received would be
frequent and not intelligible to the casual reader. These were the
months before election, when the things that were going to happen began
to happen. Their beginnings were obscure. The man in the street talked
politics, but the man with his hands in the game kept still. Even when
they slipped away to the smoking-room, or gathered at the edge of the
lawn in groups of two and three that scattered as their host approached,
the Colonel's guests were not discussing politics to-night.

No tired lines were permitted to show in Mrs. Randall's face. Her fresh,
cool prettiness was of the valuable kind that shows off best at the
height of the evening, when other women look tired. If she was aware of
the fact and made the most of it, overworking her charming smile and
wide-open, tranquil eyes, you could not blame her. It was not the time
or place to overlook any weapons you might have. Whatever duties or
privileges belonged to the Colonel's inner circle, you had to take care
of yourself if you were part of it, and you learned to; that was evident
from her manner. It seemed easy for her to-night. Just now she was
sharing a bench and an evening cloak with Mrs. Burr, smooth, dark head
close to her fluffy, blond one, and smiling into her face confidingly,
as if all that lady's purring, disconnected remarks were equally
agreeable to her.

"We miss Judy so much," she said sweetly.

"I can see just how much, dear," said Judith's mother more sweetly
still.

"And it's so long since she's been here."

"She has her school work to do. She's just a child. She's not well
to-night."

"But I got the idea he meant this to be her evening."

"He did."

"There he is." The third person singular, unqualified, could mean only
one gentleman to the ladies of the Colonel's circle, and that gentleman
was passing close to them now, though he seemed unconscious of the
fact. He was guiding Mrs. Kent through an old-fashioned waltz with
elaborate precision. His concentration upon the performance increased as
he passed the