m, a person that likes
my freedom once in a while, and a glimpse at the shop-windows,--exactly
as much as old you-know-who does--and a bit of tea afterwards with a--a
friend."

At this point, Gwendolyn glanced up--just in time to see Thomas
regarding Jane with a broad grin. And Jane was smiling back at him, her
face so suffused with blushes that there was not a freckle to be seen.

Now Jane sighed, and stood looking down with hands folded. "What good
does it do to talk, though," she observed sadly. "Day in and day out,
day _in_ and day out, I have to dance attendance."

It was Gwendolyn's turn to color. She got down quickly and came forward.

"Sh!" warned Thomas. He busied himself with laying the silver.

Gwendolyn halted in front of Jane, and lifted a puzzled face. "But--but,
Jane," she began defensively, "you don't ever _dance_."

"Now, whatever do you think I was talkin' about?" demanded Jane,
roughly. "You dance, don't you, at Monsoor Tellegen's, of a Saturday
afternoon? Well, so do I when I get a' evenin' off,--which isn't often,
as you well know, Miss. And now your dinner's ready. So eat it, without
any more clackin'."

Gwendolyn climbed upon the plump rounding seat of a white-and-gold
chair.

Jane settled down nearby, choosing an upholstered arm-chair--spacious,
comfort-giving. She lolled in it, at ease but watchful.

"You can't think how that old butler spies on me," said Thomas,
addressing her. "He seen the tray when I put it on the dumb-waiter.
And, 'Miss Royle is havin' her lunch out,' he says. Then would you
_believe_ it, he took more'n half my dishes away!"

Jane giggled. "Potter's a sharp one," she declared. "But, oh, you
should've been behind a door just now when you-know-who and I had a
little understandin'."

"Eh?" he inquired, working his black brows excitedly. "How was that?"

Gwendolyn went calmly on with her mutton-broth. She already knew each
detail of the forth-coming recital.

"Well," began Jane, "she played her usual trick of startin' off without
so much as a word to me, and I just up and give her a tongue-lashin'."

Gwendolyn's spoon paused half way to her expectant pink mouth. She
stared at Jane. "Oh, I didn't see that," she exclaimed regretfully.
"Jane, what is a tongue-lashing?"

Jane sat up. "A tongue-lashin'," said she, "is what _you_ need, young
lady. Look at the way you've spilled your soup! Take it, Thomas, and
serve the rest of the dinner, I ain't goin' to allow you t