Ruth and Dodo had been sadly neglected during the Christmas Season, but after Paul returned to Denver and Tom accepted his verdict that Polly would give no valuable thought to lovers for the next two years, the two young decorators took time to encourage their younger partners in the work they had chosen.

Ruth and Dodo were not as deeply in earnest as Polly and Eleanor had been in applying themselves to the studies given at Cooper Union; they considered themselves martyrs to the cause of womanly work. Mr. Fabian often sighed in despair over Dodo’s ideals in ancient architecture, or Ruth’s recitations of applied designs. Polly and Eleanor laughed at these trials of teacher and student and kept urging both sides not to lose faith but to keep on until they won the prize.

Meanwhile, the two advanced students visited every exhibit or lecture given on their beloved work, and thus acquired more of the idealistic experiences in art. For business application of their understanding of decorating, Mrs. Courtney supplied one channel of such testing; and Mr. Dalken offered another outlet for their wisdom, for he had decided to erect a magnificent office building on upper Fifth Avenue, and keep the entire top floor as a private apartment for himself.

The girls had many interesting mornings in Mrs. Courtney’s home, listening to her accounts of trips to every country in quest of curios and antiques. Her residence was filled with the results of her travels, and her memory teemed with thrilling stories of adventure for the rare and beautiful trophies she secured.

“There is still one interesting spot on this globe which I am keen to visit, but I have never had the opportunity to go as I wish to go,” said Mrs. Courtney, one day, after she had been showing the two girls the collection of Filipino curios she got during a six months’ stay at the Philippines.

“I should have said there was no spot where you have not been,” laughed Eleanor.

“But there is, and that is the South Sea Isles. I have——”

“Where?” gasped both the girls, unconsciously interrupting the speaker.

Mrs. Courtney laughed. “Yes, the South Sea Isles. Do not think them so cannibalistic as report has it, my dears. I know an American who has lived there more than twenty years and he says that for climate and interesting life, give him the South Sea Islands. He almost persuaded me to take the trip when he was here last.”

“Is he an old friend?” asked Polly.

“No; he is a man I used to commission to find certain curios for me. He tells me that textiles woven and colored by the natives of those islands are the most beautiful things ever seen. The carvings and hammered brasses are more gorgeous than those of Benares or of the East. He has made quite a fortune out of exporting selected articles from the Isles to the United States, but the great difficulty in such trade is the uncertain transportation methods. His goods may reach their destination and again they may not. It depends on the character of the owner or captain of the vessel. He all but persuaded me to buy or lease a sea-going yacht and make the trip for a year’s outing. He promised me that all costs would quickly be defrayed by the valuable cargo which could be stored away in very small space on board the yacht.”

“If you were so keen about visiting that place why did you renounce it?” queried Eleanor, wonderingly.

“Because I could not induce any of my friends to accept my invitation to join my party for such an outing.” Mrs Courtney laughed as she remembered the expressions on the faces of her friends when they heard of the proposed voyage.

“Actually, girls, some of my invited guests asked me to go to Monte Carlo, or to the Orient, instead. So that broke up the plan.”

“Goodness!” sighed Polly, “I only wish I had been invited!”

“Would you have gone willingly?” asked Mrs. Courtney, eagerly.

“Would I? Say, Nolla, would you have gone with me?” was Polly’s instant retort.

“Try me now and see?” laughed Eleanor to Mrs. Courtney.

“Really, girls, do not joke! I am seriously inclined to take that trip, providing I can induce the right group of friends to accompany me. The cost of a yacht would be no small matter in these days of high costs, but I would have a year’s intense satisfaction out of such a trip, and Mr. Needham said he felt sure the costs would be met by the cargo I could carry out and another I could bring back on the round trip.”

“If our gold mine gets to working again, or should the lava cliffs open soon, both Polly and I would love to enlist for just such an adventure. But there would be no opportunity to add to our knowledge of decorating, would there?” suggested Eleanor.

“Not unless you took your lessons with you, and found clients out there who wanted you to decorate their grass huts in the good approved American way,” suggested Mrs. Courtney.

“Nolla, we ought not to dream of such a trip, because we are tied to a two-year agreement with each other, you know. Then we’ve got to give a definite answer to those life-partners, you know,” was Polly’s lugubrious reply.

“I don’t know, Polly! In such an unexpected matter as our going to the South Seas, a mere beau will have to bide his time. We may find a Fiji Islander more interesting to us than one of our Yankee beaus,” laughed Eleanor.

Mrs. Courtney heard and pondered what had just been said; her next words did not hint of her having heard the discussion, however.

“If I do take such a trip, it shall not be in the approved line of Cook’s Tours. I want to adventure in absolute freedom, with no tagging tourists or other obstacles to a perfect adventure. I would carefully select a party of fifteen or twenty harmonious souls and charter or buy a private yacht. Then start and stop as we pleased. No hurry, no lagging, unless we chose. It seems to me that such a wonderful outing would bring peace, at last, to my restless spirit.” Mrs. Courtney sighed.

The girls laughed because they thought she was joking. But Mrs. Courtney was in earnest, as they were to find out. However, the topic now being discussed was the South Sea Isle trip so she was determined to conclude that before she launched another.

“If I invited you two girls to accompany me as private assistants during the trip, and should we find a score of kindred spirits willing to take a trip such as I plan, why could you not steal six months or a year from your profession, in order to see the world? Surely it would do you no harm, and you are still young enough to go on with your work when you return to New York?”

Polly and Eleanor seemed to have exactly the same idea. But Eleanor spoke impetuously of it, while Polly pondered seriously. “Dear me! If only Mr. Dalken could spare the time to take his yacht and invite us to accompany him on just such a voyage—what a wonderful trip it would be!”

Mrs. Courtney glanced at the girls, then said: “I’ve heard so much of your great Mr. Dalken but I’ve never seen him. How old a man is he, and what does he look like?”

“Oh, Dalky is not as old as he looks, because he has had such an unhappy life, you know; that is how we came to love him so! We felt keenly for him,” exclaimed Eleanor, regardless of the sharp nudge Polly gave her as a warning to hold her tongue.

“Yes, I know his silly wife, poor man!” murmured Mrs. Courtney. She seemed to be lost in a sad strain of thought for a short time, and the girls hesitated to speak, just then.

Soon, however, she heaved a deep sigh and looked up to smile at the serious faces opposite her. “Well, perhaps there is a great happiness in store for your good friend, to repay him for all he has silently endured these past years.”

“We sincerely hope so!” affirmed Polly, earnestly. “If anyone deserves peace and joy, dear Dalky does.”

“How little the world really knows of the sorrows of those who bear their cross in silence!” sighed Mrs. Courtney. “Now, I have heard said that Mr. Dalken is a very gay personage who knows how to make the most of his money and time. But that report came from his wife, so I took it with a grain of salt. I know from my own experience just how the sinner tries to smear the saint with his own crimes although I do not mean by that that I am a saint.”

“Surely you had no unhappy experience in your life, Mrs. Courtney!” exclaimed Eleanor, not from curiosity but from the desire to hear her esteemed friend declare that she had had only joy in her days. Mrs. Courtney understood the motive that urged the question.

“My dear children, my married experience was much like that of your beloved friend. The difference being that my gay husband used my position and wealth to boost himself to the place where he found more agreeable companions than I proved to be. Out of sheer self-respect I was forced to divorce him. Then I began my wanderings over the globe, and finally settled in this city where I was practically unknown. You see, my pride could not brook the pity of my friends although they approved the only course open for me when my husband eloped with another man’s wife.”

“Oh, dear Mrs. Courtney!” sighed Eleanor, ready tears springing to her eyes. But Polly crept over and placed a sympathetic hand upon that of her hostess.

“It seems ages ago, my children,” added Mrs. Courtney. “I was only eighteen when I married and I was twenty-one when I divorced my husband. I never had a child, and I have always felt as though I had been given a very wretched deal in life, for I love children. Because of my experience, I can advise other young girls—not to marry too young, nor to accept a man for his looks or manners. A girl needs to be experienced from business, or travel and association with men, before she is capable of judging wisely and selecting the proper mate for life.”

The bond created that morning between the mature woman and the two young girls, proved to be of such quality as would last. And such a friend as Mrs. Courtney would be for two young girls, was one of the benefits both Polly and Eleanor received by visiting country auctions of a higher class. Not that the particular sale at Parsippany was “higher class,” because it was proved to have been a fake sale, but the type of buyers it attracted were of an advanced type of mentality.

“But, children, you have told me nothing more about your good friend Dalken! Tell me more of him. I just heard of his wife’s latest project, and I wish to be informed first hand.”

“What do you mean, Mrs. Courtney? His wife’s latest project?” asked Polly, fearfully.

“Oh, perhaps you were not aware that she is in Reno? She found an affinity, it seems, during her visit abroad, last summer, and it became necessary for her to sever her legal ties if she wished to marry this other man. I heard of the scandal but not being interested in the woman, and not knowing the man, I paid no attention to the suit. Divorce cases are so common in these degenerate days.” Mrs. Courtney sighed again, and showed her disapproval of the modern style of marriages.

“Poor Dalky! I wonder if he knows of this?” cried Polly.

“He would have to, dear, because she would have to serve him with papers, you see,” explained Mrs. Courtney.

“And he never said a word to any one nor did he let us see he was disturbed in any way,” added Eleanor.

“Maybe the poor man is relieved to have it so. At least, he will be exempt from paying her such an outrageous income, you know. I take for granted that he will put in his defence, thus absolving himself from alimony,” explained Mrs. Courtney.

“It would be exactly like him to keep quiet and let that horrid woman get all she can. He is so magnanimous, you know, that he would think to himself ‘She was the mother of my children, and as such I must not deprive her of what she may need’.” Polly’s voice had a dual tone as she spoke: one of sympathy for Mr. Dalken, one of scorn for Mrs. Dalken.

Mrs. Courtney laughed softly. “I am getting my impressions of your friend in piece-meal. You have not yet told me about him.”

“That is because you’ve told us such astonishing news. But now I’ll tell you all about good old Dalky,” said Eleanor. “He is a handsome man of about forty-two or four, I think. Isn’t he, Polly?”

“Yes, about that age,” agreed Polly.

“Well, besides his being handsome and middle-aged, he is loving, awfully rich, both in money and good friends, and one of the most intelligent mortals I ever met!”

Eleanor’s description made Mrs. Courtney smile. “One would be led to think you had met all kinds and conditions of mortals in your long, long life, child,” remarked she.

“Sometimes I think I am very much older in life than seems to be,” mused Eleanor. “I feel somehow, that I have lived many centuries before this queer modern experience.”

“You must have been reading theosophical books, my dear,” remarked Mrs. Courtney, eyeing Eleanor closely.

“No, I never have. I’m not interested in any such form of research—not yet,” she laughed.

“Nolla, we ought to be going—really! Every time we come here to talk boudoir decorating we switch off into some byway of personal interest, and that makes us come again to get down to work,” said Polly, rising and adjusting her hat, preparatory to saying good-by.

“But what about our round-trip to the South Sea Isles?” was Mrs. Courtney’s query.

“It isn’t coming off, at once, is it? You’ve got to find a group who are companionable, and you’ve got to get the yacht,” said Eleanor.

“It may not take me more than a week to do both. When I make up my mind to a thing, I generally do it,” returned Mrs. Courtney.

“We’d have to gain the consent of our parents before we could even think of taking such a marvellous voyage,” declared Polly.

“But the main point is this: would you really care to go, or would you prefer staying in New York to continue your profession?” asked Mrs. Courtney.

“We’d love to go with you, but I’m not sure I’d want to remain away from my work for a whole year,” was Polly’s thoughtful answer.

“If we entertained any ideas of taking the voyage, the best time for us to start would be next Fall. Then we could spend our entire winter in the tropics and escape the heat in the equator in the summer, or rainy season, by sailing home again.”

“Oh, it sounds great! It remains to see who would go,” said Eleanor. Then the girls said good-by, and started away, full of the unusual invitation they had heard that afternoon.

“I’m sure mother and father would not wish me to go,” said Polly, after the subject had been exhausted.

“Of course, you couldn’t offer the excuse that you were going for advancement in your profession—as we did when we wanted to tour Europe, you know.”

“Leaving the thrilling trip out of our minds for a time, I want to ask you if you suspected anything troubling Dalky, lately?” said Polly, seriously.

“Not a thing. He has seemed just the same as ever.”

“That’s what I should have said. Then he may not know about his wife’s perfidy, and I think we ought to prepare him for such news, Nolla.”

“Polly, we tried to force an adopted son on him, once, and since that time I have been wary of trying to interfere in any other of his personal affairs.”

“Then let us talk it over with Prof. and ask what he thinks about telling Mr. Ashby,” suggested Polly.

“That’s more like sense. We’ll tell Mr. Ashby ourselves, when we get back to the Shops.”

Thus Mr. Ashby was told the story as told by Mrs. Courtney but he seemed not surprised as the girls expected him to be. He merely shook his head sympathetically and said nothing.

“Did you know it?” asked Polly, amazed.

“We all knew of it a few weeks ago. Poor Dalky refused all our advice to fight the divorce and exempt himself from paying alimony—as he will have to do for not putting in a defence. He smiled tolerantly and explained: ‘If she wants any of my money she is welcome to it. I have more than I can use, you know’.”

“There! That is exactly what I said he would do!” declared Polly, vehemently.

“Oh, why does he let her have it? There are so many ways he could make poor people happy, instead of throwing his wealth away on such a mercenary creature!” wailed Eleanor.

“We have no right to question his motives, Nolla,” said Mr. Ashby, seriously. “I do not wish to speak of this again, unless he himself mentions the subject to you girls. He has seemed anxious to keep the news from you, for some reason. But I firmly believe the poor man still has a shred of love for his wife alive in his bosom, and that is why he will not oppose her in any way she wishes to secure happiness.”

That night when Polly and Eleanor sat together doing some home-work on decorating, Polly suddenly looked up and said: “Nolla, if only our dear Dalky could meet our dear Mrs. Courtney—wouldn’t they make a fine couple?”

“Oh, Poll! There you go again! I have tried to keep from thinking that very thing, ever since I heard Mrs. Courtney tell us of that horrid woman’s being in Reno. Our Dalky will be free, and what so great as to have him fall in love with a really appreciative woman.” Eleanor clasped her hands and expressed ecstatic joy at the very idea of such bliss.

“But the whole plan would be ruined if it turned out that Dalky was still in love with his first wife, you know,” argued Polly.

“It wouldn’t take long to get him out of it,” retorted Eleanor. “With such a lovely woman as Mrs. Courtney to be had for the loving and asking, I’d like to wager all I have that Dalky would walk into the snare.”

“What snare? Who’d set it for his faltering steps?” laughed Polly, enjoying this romancing to the utmost.

“Why, we would, to be sure. Now look at it in a practical way, Poll. There is Mrs. Courtney: very good-looking, rich, refined, lonely, about thirty-five or thirty-eight, at most. Here is our Dalky, also handsome, rich, refined, lonely (but for us) about forty years old, and just the man to have a wonderful wife to make him happy. Is that not an ideal match?” Eleanor tossed her head wisely.

“That’s what we think! But we are not going to marry Dalky nor Mrs. Courtney. They may not agree with us, you know.”

“Polly, nothing like trying out a thing to see how it works. Now we must scheme to bring those two together and let them find out how desirable each is for the other,” suggested Eleanor.

“I think that is a good plan—bring them together and see how they seem to get along,” said Polly, musingly.

“All right, then. How shall we do it?”

“Could we not invite Mrs. Courtney to inspect some of the materials we are going to order for Dalky’s apartment? We could so plan that Dalky would be there at the same time. Then they would meet and hear that each one is the great and only friend the other has heard so much about from us?”

“Yes, that’s a fine way to get them together,” said Polly. “Now when shall it be?”

“The sooner, the better,” retorted Eleanor.

“We are going to get that book of new imported samples of damask, this week, Nolla. Why not ask Mrs. Courtney to look at them. As they are ordered for Dalky’s apartment, what more natural than he should drop in to look them over?”

Eleanor clapped Polly on the back with approval, and both girls then put their heads together and romanced about the great match they would bring about.

A few days after this conversation, the much-desired package came by European post. It was the book of imported samples which had been ordered for Mr. Dalken’s inspection before he would place an order for the materials. The work at Mrs. Courtney’s residence had been delayed because the youthful decorators said they wished to look over the magnificent materials from Paris. When they were sure of Mr. Dalken’s visit to the Shops that morning, they also insisted upon Mrs. Courtney coming in to look over the materials.

The two plotters could hardly keep from hugging each other when they knew that both friends were coming, and the opportunity of having them meet and fall in love with each other was given at last.

But they did not allow for Fate.

There happened to be a socialistic parade of demonstration against work, or some such complaint, that noon; and just as the parade reached that section of Fifth Avenue where the Ashby Shops were located, the police held up all vehicular traffic. All cars were diverted from the Avenue to side streets, but those unfortunate cars caught just at the point of crossing the street, had to back and wait until those behind had backed out of the congestion, before they could slowly make their way out.

Mrs. Courtney’s chauffeur had just attempted to cross the Avenue in order to turn in front of the Ashby Shops, when the signal came and all traffic, up or down or cross-town, was held up until the parade should have passed. Mrs. Courtney was furious.

“Back out and we’ll go around a side street to get to my destination,” spoke she to the chauffeur.

The man glanced in the mirror to see if the way behind was open, and finding no car directly in his pathway, he began to quickly back out. In the moment he took his eye from the reflector, another car shot up close to Mrs. Courtney’s automobile; thus her driver backed suddenly into the newly arrived car behind.

There was a smash of lamps, a grinding of fenders and the interlocking of back and front bumpers. The passengers were rudely thrown from the luxurious cushioned seats, and Mrs. Courtney had her new imported hat crushed out of shape.

The two chauffeurs jumped down and began to blame each other for the accident; Mr. Dalken managed to pick himself up from the floor of his limousine and step stiffly out to learn who was to blame. Mrs. Courtney was sure she was in the right; and when the handsome gentleman came up to her car to tell her she had a stupid chauffeur, for he should have looked well before backing so recklessly into the congested tangle of cars behind him, she resented his charge.

While Mr. Dalken stood beside Mrs. Courtney’s car trying to convince her she was in the wrong, the two chauffeurs began to use their fists upon each other. Then, in a few minutes’ time, the officer stationed at the corner to maintain order for the paraders, rushed up and arrested both combatants. Naturally, this caused their employers to see that justice was done, and thus it happened that all contestants accompanied the officer to the police-station.

Meantime Polly and Eleanor waited and waited, but no one came to inspect their sample book. They telephoned Mrs. Courtney’s house and were told she had left, in her car, fully an hour before. Then they telephoned Mr. Dalken’s office and heard that he had driven away in his car fully an hour before.

“The old parade must have held them up,” suggested Polly.

“But that’s over, now, and they surely could have been here if they were detained at one of the nearby cross-streets,” said Eleanor.

Another half hour passed and then two cars drove up and stopped before the Ashby Shops. Two people stepped from their individual cars and two angry people stood and stared at each other. Then Mr. Dalken, recovering first, bowed stiffly and walked across the pavement to enter the Shop door. Mrs. Courtney had started to cross the sidewalk before she realized that her unknown opponent was entering the same Shop she was bound for. She passed through the door he held open, and sent him a careless glance of thanks, then looked around for the girls whom she had expected to meet there.

Neither girl was in sight, and the lady now asked one of the salesmen, “Where shall I find Miss Brewster or Miss Maynard?”

“Just step this way, Madam. I’ll take you to their private office,” was the polite reply.

Mrs. Courtney glanced in a large mirror to assure herself that her hat was presentable, then followed her escort. As she reached the partly closed door of the office used by the young decorators, she heard a man’s voice. The same voice which had been accusing her chauffeur of bad judgment and ignorance of city laws. Before she could change her mind about entering the room, however, the escort had knocked and Polly flung the door open. She welcomed the new visitor.

Both girls were tickled to pieces to find how their plot was coming on apace: both dear friends were now together at the same time, and all that was needed was for them to be introduced.

“Oh, isn’t this just lovely!” cried Eleanor, acting her part very well. “To find both our friends here at the same time!”

“Dear Mrs. Courtney, this is our dear Mr. Dalken,” said Polly, politely.

“And this is the dear friend we have told you of so often, Dalky!” added Eleanor, effusively.

The lady and gentleman bowed distantly but never smiled; the girls wondered at their strange behavior. Then Mr. Dalken said sarcastically:

“We have met before. In fact, the lady is obliged to me for having spared her chauffeur a fine.”

“What do you mean?” gasped Polly, all at sea.

“He means, my dears, that he took us to the police station a short time ago, just because his stupid chauffeur wouldn’t back out of the congestion. Naturally, when my man tried to back out the car grazed the one behind, and that started the fight,” explained Mrs. Courtney.

“I beg pardon, Madam. I did not take you to the station house. You took yourself in order to save your chauffeur. And I went to see that my poor man had simple justice in the case,” said Mr. Dalken, bowing low in mock humility.

“Oh, oh! Isn’t this dreadful after all we hoped for!” cried Polly, throwing herself in a chair and burying her face in her arms.

“What is so awful, Polly dear?” asked Mrs. Courtney, springing over to the troubled girl and placing an arm about her.

“Oh, oh! I am so heart-broken over this misfortune!” cried Polly.

“What misfortune, Polly dear?” now asked Mr. Dalken, coming close to the girl.

“Oh, oh, oh! I can’t speak of it!” sobbed Polly.

“Perhaps I can comfort her, Madam, if you will allow me,” suggested Mr. Dalken, anxious to take Mrs. Courtney’s place as comforter.

She sent him a glance that said as plain as could be: “I can comfort her myself—you need not mind!”

Meanwhile Eleanor stood and rapidly pondered the situation. She felt like laughing outrageously at the prank Cupid had played on them, but she dared not utter a sound of mirth because that might spoil everything. And there might be a possible chance of saving the day, after all.

Suddenly, without any previous notice, Eleanor fell upon the other chair by the table and dropped her head upon her folded arms. Her body shook nervously, and Mr. Dalken believed her to be crying, too. He hastened to assure her that there was really nothing to cry about, but his assurance only caused the girl to quake the more.

Eleanor was not crying, but had felt that she must laugh or leave the room. As she had no desire to leave, she tried to hide her laughing in her arms upon the table. But when Mr. Dalken began to comfort her, she lost all control of herself and had an attack of hysterical laughter.

The two distraught adults were not able to cope with the situation, and they looked at each other in mute appeal. Mr. Dalken was the first to speak.

“We’d better bury the hatchet and do something for the children,” said he, anxiously. “Do you know what to do?”

“Had I better get a doctor, or something?” added he.

“Better get something,” replied Mrs. Courtney, without thinking how silly it must sound.

This sent Eleanor off into another wild spell of laughter, but Polly began to quiet now that she heard her friend making such a disturbance. The ungoverned laughter attracted Mr. Ashby who had just entered the Shops.

“Well, well! What has happened?” was the natural thing for him to say, the moment he entered the room.

Mr. Dalken tried to explain that a slight shock had occasioned the hysteria, and then Mr. Ashby ran for the jug of icewater on the small stand by the door. Eleanor was liberally soaked with water before she could control her nerves, but once she could gasp again, she cried, “Oh, Mr. Ashby! make our two dear friends patch up their quarrel! I shall have another fit unless they shake hands right before my face and promise never again to act like children!”

As the logic of this accusation seemed apparent to all present, Mr. Dalken smiled graciously upon Mrs. Courtney and she held out her hand without further animosity. Then Mr. Ashby had to hear the story of the accident.

As it was concluded he laughed heartily and said, “When I came in, just now, I saw two chauffeurs sitting on the running board of Dalky’s car, smoking cigarettes and laughing together as if they were twin brothers. No sign of disagreement there.”

“Oh the wretches! And in the station house they called each other all sorts of bad names and swore to do away with each other the moment they found an opportunity,” complained Mrs. Courtney.

The others laughed at her pathetic voice, and Mr. Dalken said, “When they discovered they were both Swedes they decided they had best combine their forces against the common enemy-employer.”

Now that reconciliation had been brought about between these two good friends, Eleanor wondered what next to do to further the match she had determined to bring about. She looked at Polly for inspiration, but Polly seemed to lack any initiative.

“Well, girls! Now that you have agreed to remain yet a little longer on this earth with us, I shall have to be saying good-by,” declared Mr. Dalken, bowing before Mrs. Courtney in his most dignified manner.

“Oh, no, Dalky! Wait just a minute!” cried Eleanor. Then turning to Polly for help, she added, “We want Mrs. Courtney and you to come and dine with us, some evening, this week. Not at Mr. Fabian’s, you know, but at a nice quaint little place we know of.”

This was news to Polly, but she waited to hear more before she spoke. Mr. Dalken laughed and waited for Mrs. Courtney to speak.

“What is this? Do you need a chaperone for an evening?” said she, trying to fathom Eleanor’s thoughts.

“No, no! But you see, Mr. Ashby always takes his important clients to a famous restaurant for dinner, so we have to do the same. You two are our first big customers, and I want to do the business up as it should be done.” Every one laughed at Eleanor.

“Under the circumstances, I think I should be the host and you three ladies my guests,” suggested Mr. Dalken.

“Well—anyway you say, Dalky, just so long as we get together for an evening,” sighed Eleanor, as if relieved at the change of plans. This called forth another, heartier, laugh at her expense.

One evening, therefore, the four, now good friends, met at one of the new unique cabarets, and having enjoyed dinner and the dancing, they spoke of Mrs. Courtney’s idea of taking a trip to the South Sea Isles. Mr. Dalken laughed immoderately at the mention of the place selected for a pleasure trip.

“Now I am truly sorry you have set your hearts on going to the South Seas, for I had been secretly planning a little jaunt on my own account. One reason I bought that sea-going yacht was to have my best friends take short voyages with me, whenever we could get away from business.

“I find that I must try to break away from New York in early Spring, and the doctor says a sea-voyage is the best vacation I can possibly take. Hence I wanted to have my two girls with me. If you are planning to go to the South Seas I suppose it will be out of the question for you to go to the Orient, on my planned trip?”

As Mr. Dalken paused to watch the effect of this speech, both the girls “Oh’ed and Ah’ed” and glanced at Mrs. Courtney. She said nothing and her face was a blank so no one could read her mind.

“I had jotted down a list of names of sociable spirits, such as the Fabians, the Ashbys, the Alexanders, the Brewsters, the Maynards, the Latimers, the Evans, the Stewarts, and Mrs. Courtney with Jack Baxter to look after her in lieu of other escort. It may be impossible for all members in the families I mention to continue with us on the voyage, but they can accompany us part way and then come back home. I planned to go via the Panama Canal, and thus on to Hawaii, touching there for a short visit to the Islands, and those of our party who must return to the States, can get back by steamer to California and thence to their respective homes. We will sail on to the land of cherry blossoms and pigtails. But you girls with one short sentence blast all these cherished dreams.”

“Oh, no, Dalky! We wouldn’t change your plans for the world!” exclaimed Polly, anxiously. “You see, the South Sea Isles will wait until we can get there, but you and your plans are apt to change—as the railroad guides read—without notice at any time!”

A laugh followed Polly’s remark, and Mr. Dalken added, “Well just mull over this project for a time and give me your individual opinions about it. Of course, we would be crowded if everyone in the families mentioned were to accept my invitation and take the round trip; but I feel quite safe in inviting all because I am sure I can bank on certain ones refusing to go.”

“I don’t believe you could tear father or mother away from Pebbly Pit,” remarked Polly, wistfully.

“And I know for certain that mother and Bob wouldn’t give up their summer season at a fashionable resort, just to join a party of old-fashioned sea-farers,” laughed Eleanor.

“Do you think you could persuade your father to join us?” asked Mr. Dalken.

“I bet he would go as far as Honolulu, anyway!” said Eleanor.

“That’s one for certain to start with!” laughed Mr. Dalken.

“Then there is Polly and myself and Mrs. Courtney, for certain—and that makes four; with yourself, we are five!” exulted Eleanor, drawing forth another laugh.

“Then it is settled, eh? We sail for the Orient without more ado, just as soon as your extensive business deals are done and you will need a long rest in order to recuperate for next year’s work,” chuckled Mr. Dalken.

“If our two clients would postpone their decorating for a year, we might be able to start tomorrow,” remarked Polly, smilingly.

“But the clients are obdurate, especially when the decorators need payment and prestige to succeed in their profession. Besides, the owner of the yacht is not keen on sailing the seas in the middle of winter and then land in China in the wet season.”

“Yes, he is right,” admitted Polly.

“If we should really take such a trip, Dalky, what is the best time of the year to start?” asked Eleanor.

“Well, we could leave New York in May or June, dawdle along the route until we reach Southern California. Those who cannot take time to go to Hawaii, can railroad themselves back home, and we can sail leisurely across the Pacific to visit the Hawaiian Islands. There again, those who cannot go on to the Orient with the decorators who need to study customs and periods in the Far East, may say good-by to us and watch us go west, while they go east back to business.

“If we take our time, stopping at the Philippines on the way, we ought to do Japan and China and even the principal parts of India, in a few months. We can bid the East good-by about March and escape the unpleasant season there. By taking a direct route home we might reach New York in June. It all depends.”

“Oh, wouldn’t it be wonderful! And all our dearest friends with us!” cried Polly, clasping her hands in ecstasy.

“Dear, dear! If only Tom will let you go, Polly!” sighed Eleanor, mischievously.

“Tom! What has Tom got to do with it?” demanded Polly.

“Well, you know, he says you ought to consider his wishes more, since he is sure you are his soul-mate,” teased Eleanor.

“The sooner he finds out that I propose keeping my own soul in custody the better it will be for Tom!” declared Polly.

“There, now! That doesn’t sound much as if our Polly was deeply in love, does it, Dalky?” laughed Eleanor, clapping her hands.

“I never thought she was! She was moved by compassion for Tom, to partly agree to consider his proposal. I knew she would not forfeit her profession for the doubtful result of conjugal bliss,” remarked Mr. Dalken.

“Hem—she’s right!” asserted Mrs. Courtney. “When two people, as you and I are, are on hand to prevent our young friends from precipitating themselves into double harness before they have thoroughly studied their own minds and desires, we ought to succeed in the work because we speak from experience.”

“Yes,” agreed Mr. Dalken, reminiscently; “I would never marry the finest woman on earth, after my first venture.”

“Nor would I accept a man, even though he presented himself to me in guise of a saint! Even saints have their bad days,” laughed Mrs. Courtney.

Polly and Eleanor exchanged troubled glances for it was evident that their match-making was hopeless. But the voyage to the Orient might develop many interesting things which were not revealed to the actors then. Thus we leave Polly and Eleanor for the time, and return to our own affairs until it is time to go on board Mr. Dalken’s yacht for the long trip half-way around the world.

THE END