It was two days after the dance at the yacht club that Diana came home. She arrived late and unexpectedly. Bettina had gone to bed, and the only light which burned to welcome her was Sophie's, on the third floor.

Diana paid her cabman, and set her key in the lock, to be welcomed by Peter Pan's purring note as she opened the door.

She stooped and picked up the big cat. "Dear Peter," she whispered.

Peter, held against her heart, sang his little song of content, and, standing for a moment in the darkness, Diana fought for self-control before she went up to Sophie's room.

Mrs. Martens, wrapped in her gray kimono, was writing letters. She looked up with a glad cry as Diana entered.

"Why, Diana," she said, "you darling!"

"I didn't telegraph," Diana said, as she kissed her friend, "for there wasn't any use. I had my key, and I knew I could get a cab——"

"You're tired, dearest-dear." Sophie's worried eyes noted the weariness of gesture and tone, and the shadows under Diana's eyes as she untied her veil and took off her hat.

"Yes, I'm tired, dead tired." Diana dropped into a chair, and laid her head against the cushioned back.

Sophie bent over her. "You're not comfortable," she said; "come on down to your room and take a hot bath, and I'll heat a cup of milk, and then you can rest all warm and comfy, and I'll rub your head."

"Sophie," said Diana, suddenly, "I wonder if I ever rubbed anybody's head?"

"Of course," said Sophie; "what makes you say that?"

"Because I've been thinking a lot since I went to town, and it seems to me that all my life I've just taken and have not given. I took Anthony's love—I've taken your service——" She held out her hand. "Oh, I've been a selfish pig, Sophie, darling."

Sophie took the extended hand and patted it. "What a silly thing to say," soothingly; "you've always been everything—to me, Diana. You've done so much for me that I can never repay."

"Oh, yes, in giving big things—but it's the little things that count—like heating cups of milk and rubbing people's heads."

She said it whimsically, but there were tears in her eyes.

"You come right down and go to bed," Sophie advised. "And we can talk all about it afterward."

Diana, propped up among her pillows, watched her friend as she flitted like a gray moth about the room, intent on various comforting offices, and when at last Sophie brought to her a steaming cup Diana said, "Do you know, Sophie, I've always thought myself a rather superior person."

"Well, you are," Sophie agreed.

"I'm not. Oh, I've made up my mind about things at last, and I know that it hasn't been Bettina's happiness, nor Anthony's happiness that I have been thinking about, but my own.

"If I had not stayed on after I found out the state of things here," she continued, "Anthony would have learned to care for Betty—every man loves youth and beauty——"

Sophie shook her head. "It takes us women all of our lives to learn that it is not for the red of our lips or the blue of our eyes that we are loved——"

"Oh, but you know it is the beautiful women who draw men——"

"But it is not the beautiful women who hold them. I'll set any demure little soul with a loving heart against all the faultlessly-regular -splendidly-null persons in the world when it comes to keeping the affections of a husband—and what has Bettina that she can give Anthony to take the place of the things which he has loved in you?"

"She has youth."

"How you harp on that string! You have a mind and soul which meets Anthony's. And your beauty equals hers. You must not forget that, Diana."

"I don't forget it. I know what I mean to Anthony. But Bettina will mean other things to him. And who shall say which of us would make the better wife?

"Oh, I've thought these things all out, and I know that I could never be happy, Sophie, if my happiness were founded on the hurt heart of that child. And so—I am going away—and let things go back to where they would have been if I had never come——"

"Do you think they can—ever go back, Diana?"

Diana, remembering Anthony's face in the moonlight, hesitated, then she said, bravely, "I shall not ask myself that question, Sophie. I shall simply do the thing which will seem right to me, and I am sure it is right for me to go away."

"And Bettina?"

"She must stay here with you until she is married. You won't mind, will you? There will be plenty of things to do. You can help with her wedding outfit. And after they are—married, you and I will go back—to Berlin. No, we won't, Sophie. We'll go to the desert, and down the Nile, and we'll go to Japan, and see Fujiyama; and we'll visit the temples in China, and we'll find out from some of those old Buddhists how they acquire—peace——"

"We will go to the ends of the earth if you wish—but there's only one place that I shall ask you to take me, Diana."

"Where, dear heart?"

"To that quiet spot over there in Germany, where the big cross stands up against the sky——"

"Sophie—of course you shall go there, dear."

Mrs. Martens knelt by the bed. "I've been thinking of my lover, too, while you've been away. We have each lost the man who made the world a wonderful place—henceforth you and I must live among the shadows—but because we have each other, it shall not be quite so hard."

It was a long time before they came back to the question of Diana's departure.

"But what excuse can you give for going now, Diana?"

"My health," said Diana, promptly. "Everybody knows that I first went to Germany for the baths, and I can say what is true,—that the dampness here disagrees with me, with my throat."

"But where will you go?"

"To the mountains; oh, Sophie, I shall lift up my eyes to the hills, and hope for strength——"

Out of the ensuing silence came the sound of a little tap at the door.

"Is Diana there?" asked Bettina on the other side. "I thought I heard her voice."

As Bettina came in, the radiance of youth shone from within and round about her. She kissed Diana. "Oh, so many things have happened," rapturously, "since you went away. Do you want me to tell you about them?"

"You blessed baby," said Diana, and it seemed to Sophie that in her voice was a note of sincere affection.

Bettina curled herself up on the foot of Diana's bed. "Well, in the first place," she said, "Anthony gave me a ring—a lovely ring, and a little guard to wear with it."

Diana did not flinch. "And why aren't you wearing your lovely ring," she asked, "for all the world to see?"

"Oh, but you said I mustn't," Bettina told her, "and so I keep it here."

She tugged at a slender chain which hung around her neck, and brought forth from beneath the embroidered thinness of her gown the two rings, which gave out flashing lights as she bent toward Diana.

Diana did not touch them. "They're lovely," she said, steadily; "aren't they, Sophie?"

"I'm glad he didn't give me pearls," Bettina went on, as Mrs. Martens exclaimed at their beauty, "because pearls mean tears."

"I've always worn pearls," said Diana.

"Oh, but not as love gifts," said Bettina, quickly. "It's only when your lover gives you a pearl that you weep—my mother's gift from my father was a great pearl—and when—he went away—she dropped it—into the sea.

"And I didn't blame her." Bettina was swinging her own rings back and forth, and they gave out a silvery tinkle like a chime of fairy bells. "I didn't blame her, although the pearl was worth a great deal of money and we were poor. I shouldn't want a ring after a man had ceased to love me, would you?"

"Of course not," said Diana, "and now—tell me, what were the other nice things which happened while I was away?"

"Oh," Bettina laughed, "I went fishing with Captain Stubbs and Miss Matthews, and Justin——"

"Justin?"

"Yes. Justin Ford. He invited himself. I told Mrs. Martens when I came home that I tried not to have him go, but he would, and it stormed—— Oh, well, we had a lovely time."

Somehow she had found it hard to tell Mrs. Martens, as she was finding it hard to tell Diana, just what had made the day so lovely. And as for her compact of friendship, she would tell Anthony but no other.

"Then there was the yacht club dance," she continued, "and oh, Diana, you should have seen my gown—it was a dream."

Sophie confirmed her verdict. "She was lovely in it, Diana," she said, "and everybody is talking of the success she made."

"And Anthony came," said Bettina, "and when we reached home he gave me the ring, and yesterday I had a long ride with him; oh, yes, and the day before, Justin and Sara and Doris and I had lunch on Bobbie's boat."

"I thought Bobbie's boat was in the yard for repairs?"

"It is," said Bettina, "and that's the fun of it. He's living on board, and yesterday he and Justin looked up and saw me on the porch, and they insisted on having a lunch party, and Bobbie made his man get up a perfectly wonderful little lunch, and he telephoned for the other girls, and Duke, and we climbed the ladder and ate up there in the air, and Sophie chaperoned us from your front porch."

"They wanted me to climb the ladder too," said Sophie, "but I told them I would be a little angel up aloft, and play propriety at a safe distance. It's a good thing the yacht yard happens to be at the foot of your rocks, Diana, or I'm afraid Bettina would have gone unchaperoned. It's a dizzy height up that ladder."

"And Bobbie sent things up to her in a basket," Bettina related; "we let down a piece of hammock rope, and we tied the basket to it."

Diana, listening to the light chatter, felt set apart by the tragedy of her own unhappiness. Once she would have enjoyed an escapade like the lunch party; now she was glad that she could go away—and leave it all behind her and perhaps—forget.

"Bobbie is such a funny fellow"—Bettina was still swinging the tinkling rings—"and he's awfully in love with Doris. And Doris worships him, and it makes Sara furious."

"But, my dear, Sara isn't the least bit in love with Bobbie."

"I know, but she thinks Doris is so silly to let Bobbie see—but that's just what Bobbie adores in her. He likes to be worshiped, and he's positively puffed up with pride like a pouter pigeon because he's going to marry Doris."

"Then it's settled?" Diana asked.

"Yes. It seems he proposed on the night of the yacht club dance, and yesterday at lunch Bobbie announced it, and he blushed and Doris blushed—but really it was awfully sweet, Diana—they are so happy."

"At first I thought Bobbie liked Sara," Bettina stated, later.

"Oh, no." Diana laughed. "It's Justin, you know, with Sara."

The flashing rings tinkled, tinkled. Bettina's eyes were on them.

"Oh, are they—engaged?"

"Oh, no; it's just a friendship, I fancy."

So? Other girls were his friends! Bettina's head went up, and she slipped the rings back in their hiding place.

"They've always known each other," Diana explained. "You see Sara was a sharp-tongued little girl, and Justin could get along with her better than the other boys because of his easy-going ways. And he gets along with her now, but usually it is a sort of armed truce."

Bettina felt better, but needing further assurance, she ventured, "I suppose he has a sort of brotherly feeling for her."

It was Sophie who answered that question.

"No, he hasn't. Justin adores the memory of his own little sister. She was a dear child and lame. And she was about as like Sara, I imagine, as a white dove is like a peacock. Justin has often told me that when he marries he wants to find a woman to whom he can tell his dreams as he told them to his little sister—it is perhaps because he has failed to find such a woman that he is unmarried."

It seemed to Bettina, suddenly, that all the stars sang! "Oh, it's such a lovely world"—she was all aglow—"and you've made it lovely for me, Diana, by having me here, and doing wonderful things for me."

"I want you to stay for a long time, dear, until you are married. But you'll forgive me if I go away and leave you alone with Sophie for a while?"

"Oh, must you go away again?"

"Yes. I'm not well. This air doesn't agree with—my throat," Diana stammered, not caring to meet the clear eyes.

"Oh, but I'm afraid that I'm terribly in the way," Bettina said distressfully. "You'll want Mrs. Martens to go with you. You mustn't have her stay on my account. I can go back to my rooms with Miss Matthews. Really I can—I shouldn't mind."

"My dear, I should mind very much." Diana reached out her hand to her. "Don't make me unhappy by taking it that way—I want you here."

"But you've done enough for me, putting yourself out in this way——"

"I have done only the things that I wanted to do. And now don't make me unhappy by suggesting that you won't keep poor Sophie company. What would she do without you?"

Bettina looked from one to the other. "Are you very sure you shouldn't go away together, if it weren't for me?"

"Very sure—I should bore her terribly."

They all laughed, and Bettina said, "Of course I know you're doing it all for my sake——"

"And for Anthony," said Diana, softly; "for the sake of my old friend Anthony."

"How wonderful your friendship is," said Bettina, softly. "It makes me believe in all friendship, Diana."

A little later she slid down from the bed. "You're tired and I'm keeping you up. I'll run along."

But Diana held her for a moment.

"Anthony will soon want to be going into the big house—when will you be ready, Bettina?"

"Oh, not yet," said Bettina, breathlessly, "not yet. I'd rather wait. Don't you think it will be best to wait?"

"Why?"

"Oh," her cheeks flamed, "I don't know why—only I don't want to get married—for a long time, Diana."

Diana looked at her with puzzled eyes. There was some change in the child which she could not fathom. What had happened to little Bettina in the short time since she had been away? She would ask Sophie—she would ask—Anthony.

In the adjoining room the telephone rang. Sophie, going to answer it, came back with the announcement, "It's Anthony. He wanted to know if you had returned. He needs you at the hospital. That little girl with the appendicitis is very much worse. But I told him that you had just reached home, and that you were so tired, and it was so late——"

"Sophie, how could you? Tell him I'll come. Ask him to send his car for me. Bettina, dear, hand me my slippers, and help me with my hair."

Bettina was shivering and white. "Is it the girl Anthony operated on?" she asked.

"Yes. Sophie, I'll wear the white serge. It's the easiest to get into, and my long coat——"

Bettina's shaking voice went on: "Wouldn't it be—dreadful—if anything happened? Wouldn't it be dreadful—if she should die?"

Sophie laid her hand on the girl's shoulder. "Help Diana now, dear," she advised; "we'll talk about it afterward."