hind the two-syllabled
sound! And the sound of it, too, sung itself over in your mind, rhythmic
and fascinating. There was such a difference in words; some were but
poor, bald things, neither suggesting very much nor very beautiful to
hear. Then there were words which were beautiful to hear, which had a
rich sound--words like "mellifluous" and "brocade" and "Cleopatra." But
"Cosmos" was an absolutely fascinating word--perfectly round, without
beginning or end. And it was the kind to delight in not only for its
wealth, so to speak, for all it held and hinted, but also for itself
alone; it was a word of sheer beauty.

She eagerly perused the paragraph which explained the manner in which
Lady Sylvia was readjusting--and adorning--the Cosmos. Lady Sylvia made
speeches in London's West End--wherever that was--and had a lot to do
with bettering the Housing Problem--whatever that was--and was noted
for the distinguished gatherings at her home. This alluring creature was
evidently in politics, too!

Missy's eyes went dreamily out over the yard, but they didn't see the
homely brick-edged flowerbeds nor the red lawn-swing nor the well-worn
hammock nor the white picket fence in her direct line of vision. They
were contemplating a slight girlish figure who was addressing a large
audience, somewhere, speaking with swift, telling phrases that called
forth continuous ripples of applause. It was all rather nebulous, save
for the dominant girlish figure, which bore a definite resemblance to
Melissa Merriam.

Then, with the sliding ease which obtains when fancy is the stage
director, the scene shifted. Vast, elaborately beautiful grounds rolled
majestically up to a large, ivy-draped house, which had turrets like
a castle--very picturesque. At the entrance was a flight of wide stone
steps, overlaid, now, with red carpet and canopied with a striped
awning. For the mistress was entertaining some of the nation's notables.
In the lofty hall and spacious rooms glided numberless men-servants in
livery, taking the wraps of the guests, passing refreshments, and so
forth. The guests were very distinguished-looking, all the men in dress
suits and appearing just as much at home in them as Ridgeley Holman
Dobson had, that night on the Opera House stage. Yes, and he was there,
in Missy's vision, handsomer than ever with his easy smile and graceful
gestures and that kind of intimate look in his dark eyes, as he lingered
near the hostess whom he seem