to the resignation of Miss
Trotter, who needed a complete change, everybody knew what that meant.
A few were ready to name the day when she would become Mrs. Boompointer;
others had seen the engagement ring of Judge Fletcher on her slim
finger.

Nevertheless Miss Trotter married neither, and by the time Mr. and Mrs.
Bilson had returned she had taken her holiday, and the Summit House knew
her no more.

Three years later, and at a foreign Spa, thousands of miles distant from
the scene of her former triumphs, Miss Trotter reappeared as a handsome,
stately, gray-haired stranger, whose aristocratic bearing deeply
impressed a few of her own countrymen who witnessed her arrival, and
believed her to be a grand duchess at the least. They were still
more convinced of her superiority when they saw her welcomed by the
well-known Baroness X., and afterwards engaged in a very confidential
conversation with that lady. But they would have been still more
surprised had they known the tenor of that conversation.

"I am afraid you will find the Spa very empty just now," said the
baroness critically. "But there are a few of your compatriots here,
however, and they are always amusing. You see that somewhat faded blonde
sitting quite alone in that arbor? That is her position day after day,
while her husband openly flirts or is flirted with by half the women
here. Quite the opposite experience one has of American women, where
it's all the other way, is it not? And there is an odd story about her
which may account for, if it does not excuse, her husband's neglect.
They're very rich, but they say she was originally a mere servant in a
hotel."

"You forget that I told you I was once only a housekeeper in one," said
Miss Trotter, smiling.

"Nonsense. I mean that this woman was a mere peasant, and frightfully
ignorant at that!"

Miss Trotter put up her eyeglass, and, after a moment's scrutiny,
said gently, "I think you are a little severe. I know her; it's a Mrs.
Bilson."

"No, my dear. You are quite wrong. That was the name of her FIRST
husband. I am told she was a widow who married again--quite a
fascinating young man, and evidently her superior--that is what is so
funny. She is a Mrs. Calton--'Mrs. Chris Calton,' as she calls herself."

"Is her husband--Mr. Calton--here?" said Miss Trotter after a pause, in
a still gentler voice.

"Naturally not. He has gone on an excursion with a party of ladies to
the Schwartzberg. He returns to-