She glanced at him through the moisture. His face was seriously questioning. “No—I sent it away,” she replied indistinctly.

“If you don’t mind I’ll walk on with you a bit, then.” He took his hat and opened the door for her. “My favorite part of the day,” he added.

In silence they crossed the wide veranda, and when they were descending the steps Millicent spoke again: “It sounded very foolish, for me to say I didn’t hear that record.”

“Perhaps you are one of the fortunate people who can close their ears to what they don’t wish to hear.” They passed through the iron gates. “Or perhaps you didn’t want to take sides. I saw Mr. Stanwood trying to hypnotize you.”

Millicent met her companion’s kind smile. “Why did Miss Frink want to make me feel so foolish?” she burst out impetuously.

“I’m sure she didn’t wish to or mean to. You shouldn’t grudge her a little fun. I’m certain she doesn’t have much. What she said shouldn’t have been embarrassing. It was extremely mysterious, however.”

Millicent regarded her companion again, suspiciously; but his was a most reassuring face, and, besides, he had a number of gray hairs.

“She said,” he went on, “that you called Mr. Stanwood Prince Charming before you knew of his existence. Nothing in that to offend you, but a riddle of riddles all the same, to me.”

Ogden’s pleasant voice soothing her vanity made swallowing a much easier matter. “You see,” she hesitated, “I used to be in Ross Graham’s.”

“Long ago?” He glanced at her childlike profile.

“Yes.—About three days. Miss Frink bought something of me—and I said—it was fit for Prince Charming—and Miss Frink didn’t know about fairy tales.”

“I dare say not,” remarked Ogden.

“So I told her, and we—we got acquainted that way.”

“Not that gorgeous robe!” said Ogden, suddenly enlightened.

“Yes, that horrid dressing-gown!”

“Horrid? It’s a dream!”

“Yes, a nightmare.”

“What’s all this? What’s all this?”

“I didn’t know he was there—in Miss Frink’s house.”

“She said you didn’t.”

“I didn’t know it was for him.”

“She said so.”

Millicent of the glowing cheeks turned quickly on her companion; and he smiled into her disturbed eyes.

“There is only one explanation of Miss Frink’s remark causing you embarrassment,” he said.

“Oh, of course I know I ought to have said something bright, and funny, and careless, but I never am bright, and funny, and careless. What do you mean by explanation?”

“Oh, just that the—the disturbing fact was that you found you had hit the nail on the head: that he was Prince Charming, you know.”

If Millicent’s cheeks could have gained a deeper hue it would have been there. Her temples grew rosy, and her lips parted. A little frown met her companion.

“Now, if it had been I that sat there sporting all those crimson jewels, I, with my high forehead, and silver threads among the gold, you would just have given a little sympathetic grin at Papa, and curtsied, and let it go at that.”

“Mr. Ogden,” with displeasure, “I am not so—”

“Just let me tell you, Miss Duane, so you’ll think better of him, that Prince Charming isn’t working at it as a profession at all. I never saw anybody whose good looks disturbed him less.”

“Mr. Ogden, do you suppose—”

“So I don’t want you to let it set you against him, or feel the way you did when you ran downstairs just now. By the way, Miss Duane, do you happen to be related to the Colonel Duane who has a war record? Very distinguished man. I’ve heard he lives in Farrandale.”

The speaker had the pleasure of watching the transformation in the transparent face, from bewildered resentment to eagerness.

“There!” he said suddenly, “I suspected you had a dimple. If I had been wearing that dressing-gown, I should have seen it sooner.”

“Why, it’s Grandpa. Colonel Duane is my grandfather.—Perhaps you knew it all the time, and that is the reason you’ve been so—so disrespectful in your talk.”

Ogden laughed. “Indeed, the fact should have made me far more respectful. I didn’t know it, but your pretty name brought up the association. I certainly should like to meet Colonel Duane.”

“Well, you’re going to,” said Millicent eagerly. “We live together and we have a garden. We live in one of Miss Frink’s houses, and when I used to be in Ross Graham’s—”

“Three days ago,” put in Ogden.

“Well, it seems three months. Then I had so little time with him; but now that I only have to get Miss Frink to sleep—”

“To sleep!”

“Not at night, you know. Just in the daytime. She has some one come and read to her, and now it’s me. It used to be another girl, but she bobbed her hair and lost the place. Poor Damaris! I do so wish I could get Miss Frink to let her have my position in the gloves, Miss Frink hates bobbed hair so. Do you think you might help, Mr. Ogden?”

“Anything I can do. Buy her some hair tonic, perhaps?”

Millicent laughed. “I may ask you to help,” she said earnestly. “We’re nearly there, Mr. Ogden, and I want to tell you before we meet Grandpa that I appreciate your kindness in seeing that I was unhappy and running after me. Mrs. Lumbard—do you know Mrs. Lumbard?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Well, she—even in that short time she made me feel I was in the way—and—and everything was wrong. I don’t want you to think I’m too stupid.”

Ogden met her appealing look. “I understand you very well,” he said.

They approached the little old house built before Farrandale had grown up.

“I’m so pleased that you appreciate Grandpa,” the girl went on. “You see Grandpa was a celebrated lawyer when he laid down his profession to go into that war. He is Somebody!”

Ogden perceived the white-haired figure in the garden. The old man had the hose in his hand and was sprinkling plants, shrubs and lawn.

When Ogden returned to the White Room, he found Hugh alone and rather impatient.

“Where did you disappear to?” inquired the boy.

“I eloped with that record-bearing peach.”

“What did you do that for?”

“Why, didn’t you see she was much disturbed in her mind?”

“She didn’t have pep enough to stand up against the cockatoo.”

“She had one object in life just then, and that was to get out of here.”

“We’re kindred spirits, then, even if she doesn’t care for jazz. Say, I’m going down to dinner, Ogden,” added the boy eagerly. “I’m going to get out of these infernal swaddling clothes—”

Ogden laughed. “There you are kindred spirits, too,” he said. “The peach has it in for that dressing-gown.”

Hugh glanced down over it. “That’s queer. You’d think a girl would just revel in it.”

“Probably she would if you hadn’t been wearing it.”

Hugh looked inquiring.

“Miss Frink ‘fussed’ her with all that Prince Charming stuff.”

The boy shook his head. “What was Miss Frink up to, anyway?”

“Why, Miss Duane used to be in Ross Graham’s—three days ago; and she sold your benefactress the royal robe, and told her it was fit for Prince Charming, not knowing whom it was for.”

“And that ‘fussed’ her?” asked Hugh incredulously. “Aren’t girls the limit? What did she care who it was for, so she made the sale?”

Ogden looked at his protÉgÉ quizzically. “Oh, she’s been to the movies.”

Hugh stared and scowled deeper. “Now, don’t you get bats in the belfry, too,” he said.

“Miss Duane has retired from business and is now reader-in-chief to Miss Frink.”

“So Ally told me. She tried for the job herself and was turned down, she says.”

“Really? You didn’t seem to realize that your friend was playing with that letter of Carol’s some time before I rescued it.”

“Well, why shouldn’t she?”

Ogden raised his eyebrows and smiled.

“Oh, shoot!” ejaculated Hugh gloomily, suddenly understanding. “Say, I ought to be writing to Carol.”

Ogden nodded. “I have just been sending her a full day-letter in your name, and you promised to write at once, and also asked her to write you in my care, as your plans are unsettled just now.”

“I’ll say they are!” said Hugh emphatically. He was thoughtful for a space. “Carol all alone,” he said presently. “I tell you, Mr. Ogden, it makes me feel like taking a brace and amounting to something. I read law the last year before the war. I’d like to go on with it. If Carol’s partner in the business is unreliable, I’d like to be able to attend to him.”

“I’ve been talking to an ex-lawyer to-day, one who has made his mark. Little Miss Duane’s grandfather. He is a veteran of the Cuban War. Colonel Duane. Perhaps he has his law library still.”

“He could steer me, anyway,” replied Hugh, looking interested—“if I should stay on in the town,” he added, looking away. After another pause he went on: “It was good fun to see Ally again and made everything seem more familiar.”

“How much do you know about Mrs. Reece-Lumbard?” asked Ogden.

Hugh laughed reminiscently. “Nothing except those twinkly fingers of hers. She tried some highbrow stuff on us at first—uplift, artistic, that kind; but when she found we walked out on her she changed. Great Scott, she could whoop it up, and we sang till the roof nearly lifted. I may have heard her name in those days, but if I did I’d forgotten it.”

“Well, she married Tom Reece,” said Ogden. “He was in the Medical Corps over there, and when they came home they had a baby with them, and Mrs. Reece, being a very gay lady, they had lots of trouble. She was shining in cabaret performances when I knew her, and last winter I learned that there was a divorce. To-day I asked her, when we were alone in the hall, about her baby girl, and she said she hadn’t brought her, fearing a child in the house might annoy her Aunt Susanna.”

“Well, that was considerate, wasn’t it?” returned Hugh, in defense against Ogden’s manner. “A woman never gets any sympathy.”

“The courts didn’t give Mrs. Reece any,” said Ogden dryly. “I knew that Dr. Reece was given the custody of the little girl. I just wanted to see what she would say about it.”

Hugh’s brow clouded. “I’m sorry to hear of that mess,” he replied. “Is that why you think she is deceiving Miss Frink about herself? People that live in glass houses, you know.”

Ogden smiled. “Yes, I’m not going into the stone business at present.”

The dinner that night was what AdÈle called a really human meal. Miss Frink sat at the head of the table and her secretary at the foot. He did the honors in a highly superior manner. AdÈle sat at his right and the two men guests were placed, one each side the hostess.

Miss Frink looked thoughtfully at Hugh, dressed in the new suit she had paid for. He was happy in his promotion from the invalid chair, and responded to Mr. Ogden’s amusing stories, while AdÈle put aside dull care and told canteen reminiscences of her own, some of them sufficiently daring to draw upon her the gaze of the neighboring spectacles.

After dinner they all adjourned to the drawing-room, and Miss Frink, for the first time in all the years, saw its dignified furnishings as background to a social gathering. AdÈle played, and Hugh sauntered up and down the room, singing when the familiar melodies tempted him. Miss Frink’s eyes followed him with a strange, unconscious hunger.

When at last Mrs. Lumbard sought her pillow, she was too excited for sleep, and the little spurt of jollity faded into the dull consideration of her situation. Why had handsome Hughie made that break about her hair! She reviewed all that had been said in his first recognition of her. She saw herself again, sitting and nervously twisting that letter. She felt something inimical in Ogden. He had known Dr. Reece. He wanted to get his letter away from her. There, in the darkness of her unquiet pillow, she saw the twisted envelope again. It was not his letter at all. She had flattened it out and seen that it was Hughie’s.

Mr. Hugh Stanwood Sinclair. She saw the address again. Sinclair. Why? when Hughie’s name was Stanwood? Why was the address Sinclair? Her head lay quieter as she meditated. Mr. Ogden had been anxious to get that letter! He had made her feel rebuked for twisting it. She lay a long time awake.