d tapped at the dining-room window.

"Helen! Let us in!"

"All right," said a voice.

"You've been taking this gentleman's umbrella."

"Taken a what?" said Helen, opening the door. "Oh, what's that? Do come
in! How do you do?"

"Helen, you must not be so ramshackly. You took this gentleman's
umbrella away from Queen's Hall, and he has had the trouble of coming
round for it."

"Oh, I am so sorry!" cried Helen, all her hair flying. She had pulled
off her hat as soon as she returned, and had flung herself into the
big dining-room chair. "I do nothing but steal umbrellas. I am so very
sorry! Do come in and choose one. Is yours a hooky or a nobbly? Mine's a
nobbly--at least, I THINK it is."

The light was turned on, and they began to search the hall, Helen, who
had abruptly parted with the Fifth Symphony, commenting with shrill
little cries.

"Don't you talk, Meg! You stole an old gentleman's silk top-hat. Yes,
she did, Aunt Juley. It is a positive fact. She thought it was a muff.
Oh, heavens! I've knocked the In-and-Out card down. Where's Frieda?
Tibby, why don't you ever--No, I can't remember what I was going to say.
That wasn't it, but do tell the maids to hurry tea up. What about this
umbrella?" She opened it. "No, it's all gone along the seams. It's an
appalling umbrella. It must be mine."

But it was not.

He took it from her, murmured a few words of thanks, and then fled, with
the lilting step of the clerk.

"But if you will stop--" cried Margaret. "Now, Helen, how stupid you've
been!"

"Whatever have I done?"

"Don't you see that you've frightened him away? I meant him to stop to
tea. You oughtn't to talk about stealing or holes in an umbrella. I saw
his nice eyes getting so miserable. No, it's not a bit of good now." For
Helen had darted out into the street, shouting, "Oh, do stop!"

"I dare say it is all for the best," opined Mrs. Munt. "We know nothing
about the young man, Margaret, and your drawing-room is full of very
tempting little things."

But Helen cried: "Aunt Juley, how can you! You make me more and more
ashamed. I'd rather he had been a thief and taken all the apostle spoons
than that I--Well, I must shut the front-door, I suppose. One more
failure for Helen."

"Yes, I think the apostle spoons could have gone as rent," said
Margaret. Seeing that her aunt did not understand, she added: "You
remember 'rent'? It was one of father's words--Rent to the ideal, to his
own faith in human n