until the house was reached.

Tea was waiting in the large inner hall, and the girl visitor came
forward to be introduced and shake hands. She was a slim, fair creature
with masses of hair of a pale flaxen hue, swathed round her head, and
held in place by large amber pins. Not a hair was out of place--the
effect was more like a bandage of pale brown silk than ordinary human
locks. Her dress was made in the extreme of the skimpy fashion, and her
little feet were encased in the most immaculate of silk shoes and
stockings. She looked Pixie over in one quick, appraising glance, and
Pixie stared back with widened eyes.

"My sister, Patricia O'Shaughnessy," declaimed Esmeralda. Whereupon the
strange girl bowed and repeated, "Miss Pat-ricia O'Shaughnessy. Pleased
to meet you," in a manner which proclaimed her American birth as
unmistakably as a flourish of the Stars and Stripes.

Then tea was brought in, and two young men joined the party, followed by
the host, Geoffrey Hilliard, who gave the warmest of welcomes to his
little sister-in-law. His kiss, the grasp of his hand, spoke of a
deeper feeling than one of mere welcome, and Pixie had an instant
perception that Geoffrey, like his wife, felt in need of help. The
first glance had shown him more worn and tired than a man should be who
has youth, health, a beautiful wife, charming children, and more money
than he knows how to spend; but whatever hidden troubles might exist,
they were not allowed to shadow this hour of meeting.

"Sure, and this is a sight for sore eyes!" he cried, with a would-be
adaptation of an Irish accent. "You're welcome, Pixie--a hundred times
welcome. We're overjoyed to see you, dear."

Pixie beamed at him, with an attention somewhat diverted by the two
young men who stared at her from a few yards' distance. One was tall
and fair, the other dark and thick set, and when Esmeralda swept forward
to make the formal introductions it appeared that the first rejoiced in
the name of Stanor Vaughan, and the second in the much more ordinary one
of Robert Carr.

"My sister Patricia," once more announced Mrs Hilliard, and though the
young men ascribed Pixie's blush to a becoming modesty, it arose in
reality from annoyance at the sound of the high-sounding title which had
been so persistently dropped all her life. Surely Esmeralda was not
going to insist upon "Patricia!"

For a few moments everybody remained standing, the men relating their
experi