was listening in respectful
silence; but his sense of humor would assert itself occasionally, and
Theodora, like all budding authors, was sensitive to ridicule.

Her threat was enough.

"I won't any more, Ted," Billy returned meekly; "only, if she wobbles
like that, I don't see what keeps her combs from tumbling out. Don't
make her too lop-sided, or else don't match her up to the man like me. I
want girls that are put together tight. That's one reason I like you."

Theodora was only half appeased by the intended compliment. She had a
secret liking for the "sweet disorder in the dress," and, of late, she
had vainly attempted to achieve it.

"That's all right," she said rather loftily; "only you know everybody
doesn't feel the way you do."

"Of course," Billy assented hastily. "What are their names, Ted?"

"The dark one is Violet Clementina Ascutney, and the little blond one is
Marianne--with a final _e_--Euphrosyne Blackiston. The men are Eugene
Vincent and Gerald Mortimer, and the dead one is Alessandro Stanley
Farrington."

"Oh, great Caesar, Ted! I can't stand that. Why can't you have a good
plain Jack?"

"Jack is fearfully commonplace, and names do count for so much in a
story."

Billy groaned.

"Maybe. Anyhow, you've got to leave out the Farrington. I can't go that.
Which does Marianne-with-a-final-_e_ take?"

"That's just it. She's left an orphan, rich as can be, and she asks
Violet to live with her. Violet is the only daughter of a decayed
Southern family, who had to teach for a living until she was rescued
from her life of toil by the generosity of Marianne."

"With-a-final-_e_," Billy supplemented. His eyes were full of mischief,
for Theodora's tone matched the pomp of her words.

"Then they live in this beautiful house," Theodora went on, sternly
regardless of his flippancy; "with an old housekeeper, and they have
beautiful times, parties and everything. One stormy night in summer,
when they are sitting by the fire, watching the blaze and seeing
pictures in it, the bell rings and a man in livery comes in to tell them
that there has been a runaway accident and a man hurt. That's
Alessandro, and I mean to get all this part out of papa's books."

"Well?"

"Well, he's there for weeks, and the housekeeper takes care of him and
the girls don't see him; they just make him broth and things, and send
them up to his room. One day, when he is pale and interesting, he leaves
his room and sees Marianne