hem?" she asked. "Have you telephoned or Dr.
Stone?"

"There is no necessity for giving up our little spree," he declared
cheerily. "The girls don't need a physician. They"--with meaning, "need
a mother's care." He picked up her coronation scarf from the floor where
it had slipped and laid it across her bare shoulders; the action was
almost a caress. She made a lovely picture as she sat in the high-backed
carved chair in her chic evening gown, and as her soft dark eyes met his
ardent look, McIntyre felt the hot blood surge to his temples, and
with quickened pulse he went to the telephone stand and gave Central a
number.

Back in her chair Mrs. Brewster sat thoughtfully watching him. She had
been an unobserved witness of the scene with Barbara, having entered the
library in time to hear the girl's last remarks. It was not the first
inkling that she had had of their disapproval of Colonel McIntyre's
attentions to her, but it had hurt.

The widow had become acquainted with the twins when, traveling in Europe
just before the outbreak of the World War, and had made the hasty trip
back to this country in their company. Colonel McIntyre had planned to
bring the twins, then at school in Paris, home himself, but business had
kept him in the West and he had cabled to a spinster cousin to chaperon
them on the trip across the Atlantic Ocean. Nor had he reached New
York in time to see them disembark, and thus had missed meeting Mrs.
Brewster, then in her first year of widowhood.

The friendship between the twins and Mrs. Brewster had been kept up
through much correspondence, and the widow had finally promised, to come
to Washington for their debut, visiting her cousins, Dr. and Mrs. Stone.
The meeting had but cemented the friendship between them, and at the
twins' urgent request, seconded with warmth by Colonel McIntyre, she had
promised to spend the month of April at the McIntyre home.

The visit was nearly over. Mrs. Brewster sighed faintly. There were two
courses open to her, immediate departure, or to continue to ignore the
twins' strangely antagonistic behavior--the first course did not suit
Mrs. Brewster's plans.

Barbara, who had left the library through one of its seven doors, had
failed to see Mrs. Brewster by the slightest margin; she was intent only
on being with Helen. The affection between the twins was very close;
but while their facial resemblance was remarkable, their natures were
totally dissimilar. Helen, th