!" she enthused. "Does she speak French?"

"She is acquiring two tongues at present," answered Gwendolyn's mother
proudly, "--French and German."

"_Splendid!_" It was the elder woman. "I think every little girl should
have those. And later on, I suppose, Greek and Latin?"

"I've thought of Spanish and Italian."

"_Eventually_," informed Miss Royle, with a conscious, sinuous shift
from foot to foot, "Gwendolyn will have _seven_ tongues at her command."

"How _chic!_" Once more the gloved hand was extended--to pat the
pink-satin hair-bow.

Gwendolyn accepted the pat stolidly. Her eyes were fixed on her mother's
face.

Now, the elder of the strangers drew closer. "I wonder," she began,
addressing her hostess with almost a coy air, "if we could induce _you_
to take lunch with us down-town. Wouldn't that be jolly,
Louise?"--turning.

"_Awfully_ jolly!"

"_Do_ come!"

"Oh, _do_!"

"Moth-er!"

Gwendolyn's mother looked down. A sudden color was mounting to her
cheeks. Her eyes shone.

"We-e-ell," she said, with rising inflection.

It was acceptance.

Gwendolyn stepped back the pink muslin in a nervous grasp at either
side. "Oh, _won't_ you stay?" she half-whispered.

"Mother'll see you at dinnertime, darling. Tell Jane, Miss Royle."

A bow.

Louise led the way quickly, followed by the elderly lady. Gwendolyn's
mother came last. A bronze gate slid between the three and Gwendolyn,
watching them go. The cage lowered noiselessly, with a last glimpse of
upturned faces and waving hands.

Gwendolyn, lips pouting, crossed toward the school-room door. The door
was slightly ajar. She gave it a smart pull.

A kneeling figure rose from behind it. It was Jane, who greeted her with
a nervous, and somewhat apprehensive grin.

"I was waitin' to jump out at Miss Royle and give her a scare when she'd
come through," she explained.

Gwendolyn said nothing.

CHAPTER IV

It was a morning abounding in unexpected good fortune. For one thing,
Miss Royle was indisposed--to an extent that was fully convincing--and
was lying down, brows swathed by a towel, in her own room; for another,
the bursting of a hot-water pipe on the same floor as the nursery
required the prompt attention of a man in a greasy cap and Johnnie Blake
overalls, who, as he hammered and soldered and coupled lengths of piping
with his wrench, discussed various grown-up topics in a loud voice with
Jane, thus levying on _her_ attention. Miss Royle