rike upon
glittering mirrors in the long corridors down which, in Phil's
adoration, her mother was forever loitering.

Students encountered near the campus turned their heads for a second
glance at Lois, thinking her a new girl in town who had escaped their
vigilance. She walked through Buckeye Lane to the Bartletts'; lowered
her parasol as she passed under the maples in the yard; bent over the
lilacs that overflowed upon the path, and smiled at the drumstick as she
took it in hand to announce herself.

Nan opened the door. If she was surprised to find Mrs. Holton on her
threshold, her manner did not betray the fact. Mrs. Holton owed her a
call--a call which by the social canons was slightly overdue.

"I am very glad to see you," said Nan cordially.

It was cool and pleasant in the little cottage. (Houses in Montgomery
are always pleasant and cool on the warmest days!) Lois sank into a
seat, her eyes taking in the room at a glance. The flute on the music
cabinet and the 'cello beside the piano did not escape her. On the
table, where presumably Nan performed her literary labors, lay the
week's darning. There was no denying the essential domesticity of the
atmosphere. Lois vaguely remembered that room from the days when
Professor Bartlett was living, and she had been a frequent visitor,
delighting in the cookies and raspberry shrub that were the inevitable
items of Bartlett hospitality when youngsters were about.

"I'm sorry Rose isn't here; she's spending the day in Indianapolis," Nan
observed.

"I knew that. That's why I came to-day," replied Lois, smiling. "I
wished to see you alone."

They exchanged the quick glance called for by this statement. Nan
nodded.

"I shall be leaving very soon," Lois remarked, holding her parasol at
arm's length and whirling it idly.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Nan replied.

She shook the bracelet down upon her round white arm with her accustomed
gesture, rested her elbow on the writing-table, and waited. She had just
come in from a walk and was clad in a blue wash waist and dark skirt.
She was immediately conscious of the perfections of Lois's raiment,
noting its points from silk hose and modish pumps to the utmost tip of
the feather on the beguiling Paris hat.

Nan's imagination was at work upon the situation: Tom Kirkwood's former
wife had come to call upon her, and wished to see her alone; and Tom
Kirkwood was in love with her, and she would have married him had not
this l