ondering where "Cathay" might be. It sounded
like a nice, quiet place, with no "dear old friends" in it--a peaceful
spot where people could write books if they wanted to. "Just why," he
asked himself more than once, "was I inspired to grab the shaky paw of
that human sponge? 'Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean'--oh, the
devil! She must have a volume of Tennyson in her grip, and it's soaking
through!"

Mrs. Smithers came out into the hall, more sepulchral and grim-visaged
than ever, and rang the bell for luncheon. To Harlan's fevered fancy, it
sounded like a sexton tolling a bell for a funeral. Miss St. Clair, with
the traces of tears practically removed, floated gracefully downstairs,
and Harlan, coming out of the library with the furtive step of a wild
beast from its lair, met her inopportunely at the foot of the stairs.

She smiled at him in a timid, but friendly fashion, and at the precise
moment, Dorothy appeared in the dining-room door.

"Harlan, dear," she said, in her sweetest tones, "will you give our guest
your arm and escort her out to luncheon? I have it all ready!"

Miss St. Clair clutched timidly at Harlan's rigid coat sleeve, wondering
what strange custom of the house would be evident next, and the fog was
thick before Mr. Carr's eyes, when he took his accustomed seat at the head
of the table. As a sign of devotion, he tried to step on Dorothy's foot
under the table, after a pleasing habit of their courtship in the New York
boarding-house, but he succeeded only in drawing an unconscious "ouch" and
a vivid blush from Miss St. Clair, by which he impressed Dorothy more
deeply than he could have hoped to do otherwise.

"Have you come far, Miss St. Clair?" asked Dorothy, conventionally.

"From New York," answered the guest, taking a plate of fried chicken from
Harlan's shaky hand.

"I know," said Dorothy sweetly. "We come from New York, too." Then she
took a bold, daring plunge. "I have often heard my husband speak of you."

"Of me, Mrs. Carr? Surely not! It must have been some other Elaine."

"Perhaps," smiled Dorothy, shrugging her shoulders. "No doubt I am
mistaken, but you may have heard of me?"

"Indeed I haven't," Elaine assured her. "I never heard of you in my life
before. Why should I?" A sudden and earnest crow under the window behind
her startled her so that she dropped her knife. Harlan stooped for it at
the same time she did and their heads bumped together smartly.

"Our gentlem