d radiantly. "I'll look up the
number for you."

But Patricia shrank from appearing too magnanimous.

"It's your affair, Norn," she demurred. "You ought to do the talking."

So Elinor went into the sitting-room where the telephone was, and in
the intervals of their rather forced conversation, they could hear
scraps of her kind questions and gentle answers. When she returned to
the studio, her face was glowing.

"I'm so glad you thought of phoning, Miss Pat," she said, taking her
plate and cup from Bruce and seating herself by Miss Jinny. "Doris
was--well, I can't tell you what she said, but she certainly isn't as
bad as we thought her. She's just wrapped up in Geraldine and she
seems to think that this illness is a judgment on her for the prize
study."

"Poor thing," exclaimed Griffin. "Did you tell her we all asked for
her?"

Elinor nodded. "She said I might as well tell you all, for it would be
in the papers tomorrow. Her father has failed, and they're dreadfully
poor. It's been coming on for a long while, and that was why she
wanted the prize so much--not that she excused herself for it, she only
said I could see how she came to stoop so low. She was frantic for the
money and was so worried that she couldn't think of any subject for
herself. She thought I was rich and happy and wouldn't care. She even
thought I might not turn in my study at all, when I got sick that
night. She's had a terrible time about it, but she was so glad to have
the chance to explain."

"Why in the world didn't she say so before?" cried Griffin indignantly.
"She had a chance to defend herself. We're not absolutely inhuman."

"She couldn't, don't you see, without telling her father's private
affairs?" said Elinor gently. "She didn't feel that it was any excuse
for her conduct, anyway."

Patricia heaved a deep sigh. "Well, I must say," she said with a
triumphant look at Miss Jinny, "I do believe in first impressions and
I'm glad I always liked Doris Leighton."

Miriam Halden rose regretfully. "Sorry to break up the festivities,
Miss Jinny," she said, shaking hands, "but our train leaves in just ten
minutes, and Madalon has on bran-new pumps with heels that cut her down
to a mile an hour. We'll see you all again next week at the
house-breaking, as Judith calls it."

"We'll be here," promised Madalon, following her sister's example.
"We'll have to miss lunch and the Senior dance, but what's a mere dance
compared to