Radnor society was all agog over the second appearance of Monsieur GrÉmond, and no sooner was his coming made known than Renshawe was fairly deluged with invitations for his guest.

Miss Ware took that occasion to give a big reception to which magnanimously, “those Dale girls” were invited. This was the only outcome of the after breakfast talk many weeks before with her brother. To tell the truth, the interest in them kindled at the moment by his enthusiasm, waned, and she never arranged the little party for which he had told her she had such a talent. Not that she altogether meant to waive her promise; she compromised with her conscience by telling herself that she had not yet gotten around to it. Here then was her opportunity and the girls were invited to the reception not only by card but personally. She only succeeded, however, in extracting a half promise from them to come, for they were having an anxious time over a new departure in their work and were little inclined for social dissipation.

Kenneth Landor gave a stag dinner at his club in honor of the Frenchman on the night of his arrival and Dr. Ware entertained Renshawe, GrÉmond and Landor at the same place later in the week, dining them informally before his sister’s reception. Dr. Ware greatly enjoyed the society of younger men, who sought him in many capacities and as a counselor found in his quick comprehension of their difficulties many a solution of problems which to the young so often seem insurmountable. Then it was that the wisdom grown out of his vast experience of life gave itself freely to those who came to him, and many a man and woman left his presence cheered by the grip of his hand, strengthened by the kindliness that looked out from his eyes and pervaded his whole personality. On his lighter side, as a delightfully congenial companion, he had no equal in Radnor and this rubbing up continually against a younger point of view tended to freshen his mind and keep him in touch with much that otherwise, through the exigencies of his profession, would have escaped him.

“I do not want to seem inhospitable,” he was saying that evening as the four men sat together at dinner, “but we must not linger too long over our cigars, or my sister will hold me responsible for keeping you away from her.” He had his own reasons for wanting to arrive fairly early.

“In that case we’d better move along, Landor,” said Renshawe rising. “Dr. Ware,” turning to his host, “will you take GrÉmond with you or wait a few moments while we look in at a committee meeting upstairs. We will not be long if you both care to wait.”

“I am in the hands of my friends,” said GrÉmond.

“We will wait, by all means,” replied the Doctor, consulting his watch. “It is not much after nine now.”

Thought transference was a psychological phenomenon over which Dr. Ware had pondered much, and a startling instance of it was borne in upon him when after the other men had departed, Monsieur GrÉmond turned to him and said abruptly, without any preamble:

“May I ask, Dr. Ware, if you know in this city a family of Dales? In particular a Mademoiselle Julie Dale?”

“Why yes, I believe so,” said the Doctor who was nothing if not non-committal, “do you?”

He was totally unprepared for the effusive manner in which the Frenchman literally fell upon his neck, exclaiming, “Oh! my friend, I thank you, I thank you!”

Masculine demonstration is not particularly pleasing to a man of Anglo-Saxon blood and Dr. Ware, in order to prevent a further exhibition of it, drew away slightly and offered his guest a fresh cigar.

Monsieur GrÉmond shook his head. “I will not smoke—I will do nothing but ask you questions—if I may. Oh! you cannot think what it means to know I have found her!”

“Have you been searching for Miss Julie Dale?” asked the Doctor, puffing clouds of smoke into the air.

“Searching? Ah, if you but knew! I have been across your continent to California only to learn that she had long ago left there and come to your eastern coast, presumably here, though no one at the hotel knew definitely about her.”

“You are especially interested in Miss Dale, I take it,” said the Doctor quietly. “In that case perhaps I should tell you that I stand somewhat in the relation of a guardian to her and her sister. You may talk quite frankly with me if you care to do so.”

It was impossible to restrain or even resent the hand-shake with which the younger man expressed his appreciation.

“The Fates have been kind!” was his exclamation. “I am rewarded for my bitter disappointment. Is Monsieur Dale dead?” he asked suddenly.

“Not dead, but so ill that he is no longer able to look out for their interests—the privilege, therefore, devolves upon me.”

“I wish to marry Mademoiselle Julie,” said the Frenchman with a directness Dr. Ware liked. “I came to this country chiefly for the purpose of taking her back with me. I knew them at Los Angeles two years ago and Monsieur Dale liked me—at least I do not think he disliked me, for he allowed me to be much in his daughters’ society. I realize that to you I am quite unknown, but Renshawe will vouch for me and any questions you may care to ask about my family or my future I shall be most happy to answer.”

“Thank you.” There was silence for a moment and then the Doctor said slowly, “Have you reason to suppose that Miss Dale will marry you?”

“Ah! that I do not know,—but she will—she must! Our intercourse was so perfect that life without her is incomplete. And she seemed always very happy with me. Has she never spoken of me or those days?”

“I think not,” replied the Doctor, remembering that according to his sister that was in a man’s favor. “But it is not at all unnatural,” he hastened to say kindly, “we have gone little into the past since they have been living here—for many reasons.”

“Will you tell me where they live and have I your permission to call on them to-morrow?” asked the Frenchman eagerly.

“Better than that, Monsieur, Miss Dale and her sister will be at my sister’s reception this evening. It will give me great pleasure to see that you meet her at once. Many changes have taken place since you last saw her, but of all that she will prefer herself to tell you. You will find her developed from a winsome, lovable girl into a noble young woman whose attractions in every way are greater—”

“Not greater than when I knew her—that cannot be possible,” interrupted the Frenchman. “To think that within the hour I shall see her! How can I express to you my intense gratitude for all this?”

“By making her future all she has a right to expect from the man to whom she entrusts it,” said the Doctor earnestly. “For the rest, we will talk things over more thoroughly in a day or two. I think,” he said rising, “that Renshawe and Landor have forgotten us. Suppose after all we go on and let them follow at their leisure.”

And Monsieur GrÉmond readily assenting, Dr. Ware called a cab, which soon left them at his door.

The house was already crowded and Miss Ware gave her brother a look of displeasure which she considered his tardy appearance merited. It was not more than a fleeting frown, however, for Monsieur GrÉmond followed close at his heels and what hostess could fail to wreathe her countenance in other than most charming smiles to greet so distinguished a guest! Dr. Ware presented a number of persons to him and saw him well launched before he left him to go in search of the Dale girls. He rubbed up against Kenneth Landor presently and secured his aid as a scout to reconnoiter, for in his semi-capacity of host he found it difficult to ignore the people about him in pursuit of two elusive young women.

Kenneth appeared at the Doctor’s elbow in the course of half an hour and confided to him that they were nowhere visible—“upstairs or downstairs or in my lady’s chamber.” He wore such a dejected look that the Doctor laughed and asked him why he wasn’t up to his old tricks—weren’t there dozens of pretty girls in the room? Kenneth merely raised his eyebrows expressively and the Doctor laughed again and reminded him that suspense was stimulating. Then he bethought him of Monsieur GrÉmond and discovering that individual, answered the questioning look in his eyes with an encouraging nod and managed to go over and say, in spite of the people by whom the Frenchman was surrounded, “She has not come yet but you shall know the instant she does.”

When an hour passed and they did not appear he accosted his sister who was still standing at her post receiving.

“Where are the girls?” with difficulty getting her attention.

“Girls? what girls? It seems to me there is no lack of them.”

“I mean the Dale girls. Didn’t you send the carriage for them as I directed?”

“Of course I did. They—how do you do, Mrs. Smartset—and Mr. Smartset, charmed I’m sure.”

The Doctor stood back and patiently waited while an influx of guests passed before her. When an opportunity offered he spoke again.

“They are not here, Mary. If you can give me a moment I would like to know why.”

“You wouldn’t have me neglect my guests to discuss those Dale girls would you? Must you be going, Mrs. Marston, and your daughter too—so good of you to come—goodnight. They are not coming,” she said in an aside to her brother, “the carriage came back with a note. I had no time to read it and I do not remember where I put it. Now for pity’s sake go and look after people and don’t worry me any more about them! Ah, Mrs. Lennox, this is really charming to see you,” as that individual entered.

It was no easy matter to escape to his office but Dr. Ware did it and sent for Kenneth.

“I have just learned that my little girls are not coming,” he said when Kenneth had joined him there. “I fear, my boy, that something is wrong and I am off. If people miss me say I was called away to a patient. Every one knows I am not to be counted on socially. Then there is GrÉmond. He knew the girls long ago and has been looking forward to meeting them to-night. Tell him they were prevented at the last moment from coming and give him their address so he can call if he likes.” It was characteristic of Dr. Ware that he left nothing undone.

“You are not apprehensive of anything very serious, are you?” asked Kenneth who himself felt more concern than he cared to show.

“No, no; why should I be? They may merely be tired out and have gone to bed or they may need me—I can’t take any chances where they are concerned, my boy.”

“Of course not,” said Kenneth with unusual emphasis. “If you are going to walk over, Doctor, I’d like to go along with you.”

“Take you away from the festivities? Nonsense! The girls in there would never forgive me!”

“Oh! hang the whole business! I beg your pardon, Doctor, I forgot it was your sister’s function.”

The Doctor laughed. “Come along with me. You need ozone to restore your placidity, but go back again later, like an obliging chap, if only to give my message to poor GrÉmond.”

They had been swinging along for several blocks in the cool night air when Landor broke the silence by exclaiming savagely, “What in thunder has Jules GrÉmond to do with them!”

“With the Dales?” asked the Doctor innocently, inwardly amused at Landor’s resentful tone. “He met them in California, I believe.”

“Umph!” grunted Kenneth.

“Here we are,” said the Doctor presently as they reached the house, “and there are lights in their rooms, so they are up about something and it is well I came. Goodnight, and thank you for walking over with me, Kenneth.”

“Dr. Ware,” said the younger man wistfully, detaining him a moment on the steps, “if there is anything wrong up there,” with a motion of his head toward the top story, “you’ll let me know, won’t you? And if I could be of the slightest service you’ll call on me without hesitation, won’t you? Of course I know they’ve no possible use for a chap like me but I’d move heaven and earth to do anything—to feel that I was really of service to them in any way.”

“You could not be better employed, Kenneth,” said the Doctor, looking down on him affectionately. “I shall remember what you say and I like you the better for saying it. Good-night.”

Dr. Ware hastened into the house and up the long flights of stairs leading to the Dales’ apartment and knocked at the door, hesitating at so late an hour to startle them by ringing the bell. Evidently they were expecting him, for steps came down the little hall and the door was opened almost immediately by Bridget.

“The saints be praised!” she exclaimed, “but it’s the Doctor!”

“You were expecting me, of course, Bridget,” as she helped him off with his coat.

“Bless your heart but I can’t say as we wus, sir, glad though they’ll be to see your blessed face.”

“Of course I would come. Don’t they know that by this time? Who is ill? Is the Major worse? I should have been here long ago had I not been expecting them at the house every moment.”

“They ain’t ill, sir, they’re workin’”, was her reply. “Maybe you’d better come right out to the kitchen an’ see for yourself their carryin’s on. We’re all at it to-night an’ it’s the fearful time they’ve had but it’s all plain sailin’ to the end now,” she wound up hopefully.

Somewhat mystified, Dr. Ware followed and stood speechless on the threshold of the kitchen. For there were the girls in their cotton gowns with sleeves rolled up to the shoulders working away at what were to him inexplicable things, while over in a corner sat Jack half buried in a pile of small white boxes. The whole room presented the bustle of eleven in the morning rather than eleven in the evening.

“You bad Dr. Ware,” said Julie playfully when she saw him, “what made you come?” She stopped her work a moment and whisking her apron over the chair Bridget had drawn out for him, motioned him to sit down. “We’re just daubed with frosting from one end of the place to the other, but we can’t stop working a moment, so if you dare, risk a chair?”

The Doctor sat down. He would have taken the chair with the same equanimity if it had been caked with frosting.

“Now what does this mean, at this hour?” he said.

“Didn’t Miss Ware get our note? Oh! I am so sorry. We are terribly sorry to miss the reception, aren’t we, Hester?”

“Um-um,” said Hester absorbed in making elaborate frosting designs on small pieces of cake.

“We wrote her,” continued Julie, “that we were detained by our work and I suppose if she did not get it that you thought when we did not appear something was the matter with Daddy. What a shame you had that anxiety for nothing!”

“You must go straight back,” said Hester. “We are getting on famously and you must not miss another minute of the reception.”

“You want to get me out of the way, I suppose, so you can keep up this orgy until all hours. I know you, you minx! I shan’t budge until I know all about it so you may as well begin.” He surveyed the group with a smiling imperturbable manner that was impossible to withstand. Jack, gazing at him out of the corner of his eye, thought he had never seen so splendid a gentleman and indeed his evening clothes became the Doctor tremendously so that he had never looked more handsome nor distinguished than at that moment as he sat among them leaning back in the kitchen chair.

“It is all this wedding-cake,” said Hester disgustedly. “It has acted like Sam Patch!”

“It is the first we have ever done,” explained Julie. “We took an order for two hundred boxes of cake and a big loaf, all for a wedding, and we made the cake a month ago. Oh! such a time as we had! You see, we are such ignoramuses that we have to wade through endless wrong ways before we discover the right one and we thought we had all the loaves properly frosted to cut for the boxes; but when we tried to cut the slices all the frosting fell off and so we had to begin all over again. Then we decided it would be better to cut the cake up into pieces for the boxes first and frost each one separately and—”

“We didn’t any such thing!” interrupted Hester. “That was Julie’s brilliant inspiration and she worked out all the frosting designs too. The big loaf and the bride’s cake are perfect beauties. Did you know the bride’s cake always had a ring and a thimble and a coin hidden in it for luck? Just look at the cakes over there,” waving her hand toward a side table, “aren’t they distinctly professional? Julie’s been hanging around caterers’ windows with her nose pressed against the glass studying their fancy frosted show pieces until I wonder she hasn’t been arrested for a suspicious character. Of course that childlike and bland countenance of hers was greatly in her favor but,” resignedly, “I was prepared for the worst.”

“Miss Hester will have her laugh,” said Bridget, “but ’tain’t no laughin’ matter this job they’re putting through!”

“Now Bridget, you keep still,” expostulated Julie. “She has been scolding us all the evening,” to Dr. Ware, “and frightening poor Jack to death, hasn’t she, Jack? Jack came to bring Daddy’s paper, you know, which he prints in great style since Mr. Landor has given him a printing press, and when he found we were busy he begged so hard to come out to the kitchen and help that we just had to let him. He’s been helping Bridget cut paraffine paper into squares—for each piece of cake has to be wrapped separately before it goes into its box—and they have cut all the white ribbon into pieces the right length to tie around the boxes and now they’re uncovering the boxes and getting them ready for the cake as soon as the frosting dries. Jack has been invaluable, hasn’t he, Bridget?”

“Humph!” grunted Bridget, with whom, nevertheless, the boy was a prime favorite.

“Good heavens! Julie,” cried the Doctor, “does one little box of wedding-cake mean all that?”

“Two hundred do,” smiling, “but another time we’ll know better how to go at it.”

All during this conversation she and Hester had been bending over the big work-table making curious evolutions with frosting bags over the pieces of cake spread everywhere about the room. Presently Hester dropped her bag and sat down.

“Well,” she exclaimed, “I believe they are done—that part. Dr. Ware,” turning to him suddenly, “doesn’t it strike you as funny that instead of disporting ourselves gayly in the festivities of the town we should be wasting our youth and beauty—doesn’t that sound just like a book!—our youth and beauty over aggravating old things like these?” with a disgusted look at the wedding-cake. “You do not seem to laugh but I think it’s tremendously funny. Dear me!” to the air, reflectively, “how trying it must be to get on without a sense of humor!” Then with an entire change of tone, “We did want to go awfully, especially as we had a suspicion that some one might be there. I wonder,” dreamily, “if he was.”

“I fancy so,” said the Doctor, hardly knowing whether or not to take her seriously. “Come back with me now and find out.”

“Can’t,” said Hester, “but you might be an angel and tell us if we knew any one there.”

“Let me see, there was Landor—”

“Oh! bother Mr. Landor!” with a toss of her head. “He’s omnipresent!”

“Um,” thought the Doctor, “I’ve struck the nail on the head.” Outwardly he said, “Then there was Renshawe,—you know him, do you not, and a guest of his who was tucked under my wing—apparently for protection against the wiles of the women who are trying systematically to spoil him with adulation.”

“I know him,” said Hester, “that is Monsieur Jules GrÉmond.”

“Yes,” replied the Doctor, “I thought you would guess. He told me he knew you girls and I believe he is hunting my house over for you at this moment.” He was talking to Hester but watching Julie narrowly.

“There! Julie Dale,” exclaimed her sister triumphantly, “what did I tell you! I knew he would not forget us. She swore, Dr. Ware, that he would have forgotten our very existence and I vowed that he carried her image around on his heart and all sorts of high-sounding things. Shouldn’t wonder if they were true, too,” to Dr. Ware confidingly, “and you needn’t blush so furiously about it, either, Julie Dale?”

“I am not blushing,” protested poor Julie who was crimson, “and I’ll have Bridget carry you off bodily if you don’t stop talking such nonsense. Don’t you mind what she says, will you Dr. Ware?” pleadingly. “She would rather tease than eat any day.”

Julie’s embarrassment did not escape the Doctor and there was a twinge of pain in his heart as he said to her gently, “She is a naughty little girl, Julie, but she is right when she says your old friend Monsieur GrÉmond has not forgotten you. He inquired with great interest about you all and asked my permission to call upon you.”

To this Julie made no reply and for some moments there was silence, when at last Hester sidled up to her and in her most wheedling voice said, “Forgive me, please, I did not mean to be naughty.”

Julie gave her a hearty kiss and in the laugh that followed they all joined, even including Jack, who had found the situation almost painful a moment before when he thought his adored Miss Julie’s feelings had been hurt. Perhaps the good Doctor did not laugh with his accustomed zest but if so no one detected it, least of all Hester who gave him a big hug by way of magnanimously forgiving him for being cross to her and said emphatically:

“You must go home. Miss Ware will be having a thousand fits, not to mention all the guests who are probably looking everywhere for you.”

“I have been called out to see a patient,” replied the Doctor. “Every one knows it by this time, only they do not know that instead of one I find four,” with a sweeping glance that embraced them all, “and not an inch do I stir until I see this case through. So you might as well make up your mind to put up with me and I want something to do. Come, Jack, show me how to take hold with you. I needn’t be condemned as utterly worthless just because I am a man.”

In spite of their protestations Dr. Ware was as good as his word, busying himself in Jack’s corner, and with so many hands the work went forward swiftly. It was all smooth sailing now, as Bridget said, for the critical and difficult part was done and the next two hours in which the little group sat about the kitchen table wrapping, boxing and tying the cake was immeasurably shortened by Dr. Ware, who told them interesting anecdotes, experiences of his life that made Jack long to have the night lengthen out indefinitely. But that which the Doctor most dwelt upon, knowing well it was what the girls most liked to hear, were stories of the days when he and Major Dale fought side by side for the Union of the country in that war which was as much of a reality to these girls as if they had taken part in every military engagement.

And Dr. Ware went home in the wee small hours with his mind in a tumult of thought. Distress that the girls had had such a night of it formed only a part of his disturbance, for above this fact, which in more tranquil moments would have been pre-eminent, was the consciousness that a new and central figure had arisen on the scene—yesterday a stranger to him, to-day the hero of a drama which was to the Doctor as his very life.

He sat a long while in his study when he reached home, pondering over the future and the change that seemed imminent to the girls and he wondered what the outcome would be should GrÉmond take Julie’s life into his keeping. Was he worthy of her—was he? How on so short an acquaintance could he tell? And did she love him—did she? Beset by all these unanswerable questions he paced up and down the room, his slow measured tread like an accompaniment strengthening the minor harmonies in which his thoughts that night were set.

His Julie! His little girl! Ah! she was no child to choose her lover lightly and if she loved him, trusted him to make her future, all would be well. He thought of her as he had left her, sweet and dainty in spite of the little dabs of sugar and frosting that stuck to the quaint blue apron which nearly covered her from head to foot. He remembered her embarrassment when GrÉmond’s name came up and kept that picture of her long before his eyes as if to accustom himself to this new aspect. He remembered too how flushed her cheeks were over the work and the tired shadows under her eyes told him plainly enough the relentless demand she was making upon her strength. Gad! those girls had been working eighteen hours at a stretch! Eighteen hours! It wasn’t the first time, either! And he, who would give his life to make things easier, was powerless—to another man would be given the right! Good heavens! Did GrÉmond realize his privilege? As if suddenly weary the Doctor flung himself down in his chair and heaved a sigh. Presently his lids drooped heavily. When he opened his eyes the room was flooded with sunlight.