r dressing table. She came back with a small photograph in
her hand.

It showed a young man, in a large apron over a Red Cross uniform,
bending over a low field range with a long-handled fork in his hand.

"Frying doughnuts," Lily explained. "I was in this hut at first, and I
mixed them and cut them, and he fried them. We made thousands of them.
We used to talk about opening a shop somewhere, Cardew and Cameron. He
said my name would be fine for business. He'd fry them in the window,
and I'd sell them. And a coffee machine--coffee and doughnuts, you
know."

"Not--seriously?"

At the expression on Mademoiselle's face Lily laughed joyously.

"Why not?" she demanded. "And you could be the cashier, like the ones in
France, and sit behind a high desk and count money all day. I'd rather
do that than come out," she added.

"You are going to be a good girl, Lily, aren't you?"

"If that means letting grandfather use me for a doormat, I don't know."

"Lily!"

"He's old, and I intend to be careful. But he doesn't own me, body and
soul. And it may be hard to make him understand that."

Many times in the next few months Mademoiselle was to remember that
conversation, and turn it over in her shrewd, troubled mind. Was there
anything she could have done, outside of warning old Anthony himself?
Suppose she had gone to Mr. Howard Cardew?

"And how," said Mademoiselle, trying to smile, "do you propose to assert
this new independence of spirit?"

"I am going to see Aunt Elinor," observed Lily. "There, that's eleven
buttons on, and I feel I've earned my dinner. And I'm going to ask Willy
Cameron to come here to see me. To dinner. And as he is sure not to have
any evening clothes, for one night in their lives the Cardew men are
going to dine in mufti. Which is military, you dear old thing, for
the everyday clothing that the plain people eat in, without apparent
suffering!"

Mademoiselle got up. She felt that Grace should be warned at once. And
there was a look in Lily's face when she mentioned this Cameron creature
that made Mademoiselle nervous.

"I thought he lived in the country."

"Then prepare yourself for a blow," said Lily Cardew, cheerfully. "He
is here in the city, earning twenty-five dollars a week in the Eagle
Pharmacy, and serving the plain people perfectly preposterous patent
potions--which is his own alliteration, and pretty good, I say."

Mademoiselle went out into the hall. Over the house, always silent,