speak
out, and demand explanations?

Mothers are sometimes so mystifying!

The time for the good night kiss came and went with no revealing word
from either side. The kiss was unusually tender, given and received.
Left alone at last, on her little, moon-whitened bed, Missy reflected
on her great fondness for her mother. No; she wouldn't exchange her dear
mother, not even for the most aristocratic lady in England.

Then, as the moon worked its magic on her fluttering lids, the flowered
wall-paper, the bird's-eye maple furniture, all dissolved in air, and
in their place magically stood, faded yet rich, lounges and chairs of
velvet; priceless statuettes; a few bits of bric-a-brac worth their
weight in gold; several portraits of beauties well-known in the London
and Paris worlds, frail as they were fair, false as they were piquante;
tobacco-stands and meerschaum pipes and cigarette-holders; a couple of
dogs snoozing peacefully upon the hearth-rug; a writing-table near the
blazing grate and, seated before it--

Yes! It was he! Though the room was Archibald Chesney's "den," the
seated figure was none other than Ed Brown!...

A shadow falls across the paper on which he is writing--he glances
up--beholds an airy fairy vision regarding him with a saucy smile--a
slight graceful creature clothed in shell-pink with daintiest lace
frillings at the throat and wrists, and with a wealth of nut-brown locks
brought low on her white brow, letting only the great grey eyes shine
out.

"What are you writing, sir?" she demands, sending him a bewitching
glance.

"Only a response to your gracious invitation, Lady Melissa," he replies,
springing up to kiss her tapering fingers... The moon seals the closed
eyelids down with a kiss.

The day of days arrived.

Missy got up while the rest of the household was still sleeping. For
once she did not wait for Poppy's kiss to awaken her. The empty bed
surprised and disconcerted Poppy--that is, Fifine--upon her appearance.
But much, these days, was happening to surprise and disconcert
Poppy--that is, Fifine.

Fifine finally located her mistress down in the back parlour, occupied
with shears and a heap of old magazines. Missy was clipping sketches
from certain advertisements, which she might trace upon cardboard
squares and decorate with water-colour. These were to be the
"place-cards"--an artistic commission Missy had put off from day to day
till, now, at the last minute, she was constrain