prospect of getting one I shouldn't feel
that way. Look, there is the fan counter, on your left; you can easily
slip away in the crowd. Get her as nice a one as you can see--she is
such a dear, dear girl."

"Hullo, I thought I had lost you," said Suzanne, making her way through
an obstructive knot of shoppers. "Where is Bertram?"

"I got separated from him long ago. I thought he was on ahead with you,"
said Eleanor. "We shall never find him in this crush."

Which turned out to be a true prediction.

"All our trouble and forethought thrown away," said Suzanne sulkily, when
they had pushed their way fruitlessly through half a dozen departments.

"I can't think why you didn't grab him by the arm," said Eleanor; "I
would have if I'd known him longer, but I'd only just been introduced.
It's nearly four now, we'd better have tea."

Some days later Suzanne rang Eleanor up on the telephone.

"Thank you very much for the photograph frame. It was just what I
wanted. Very good of you. I say, do you know what that Kneyght person
has given me? Just what you said he would--a wretched fan. What? Oh
yes, quite a good enough fan in its way, but still . . ."

"You must come and see what he's given me," came in Eleanor's voice over
the 'phone.

"You! Why should he give you anything?"

"Your cousin appears to be one of those rare people of wealth who take a
pleasure in giving good presents," came the reply.

"I wondered why he was so anxious to know where she lived," snapped
Suzanne to herself as she rang off.

A cloud has arisen between the friendships of the two young women; as far
as Eleanor is concerned the cloud has a silver-fox lining.

THE PHILANTHROPIST AND THE HAPPY CAT

Jocantha Bessbury was in the mood to be serenely and graciously happy.
Her world was a pleasant place, and it was wearing one of its pleasantest
aspects. Gregory had managed to get home for a hurried lunch and a smoke
afterwards in the little snuggery; the lunch had been a good one, and
there was just time to do justice to the coffee and cigarettes. Both
were excellent in their way, and Gregory was, in his way, an excellent
husband. Jocantha rather suspected herself of making him a very charming
wife, and more than suspected herself of having a first-rate dressmaker.

"I don't suppose a more thoroughly contented personality is to be found
in all Chelsea," observed Jocantha in allusion to herself; "except
perhaps Attab," she