s fidgeting. "If you can't put your hand on it, Miss Persis,
don't bother to hunt. I'll drop in again in a day or two."

"Just a minute, Thad. It must be right around here. It can't--ah!"
Persis forgot the ending of the unnecessary sentence. For now Thad
West was at liberty to leave whenever he pleased.

A tall slender figure advanced into the room. Diantha's grace had
always made her an anomaly among tall children. Her hair was parted
and drawn back simply, after the fashion doubtless designed by earth's
beauties, since it is the despair of plain women. The yellow curls,
sacrificing their individual distinction, had magnanimously contributed
to the perfection of the exquisite golden coil at the back of her
shapely head. No one would have looked twice at the plain little lawn,
but it proved superior to some more pretentious gowns in that it set
off the charms of the wearer, instead of distracting attention from
them. The unlooked-for apparition brought Thad West to his feet, and
so Youth and Beauty met as if hitherto they had been strangers.

For a long half minute they stood without speaking. "Oh, good
afternoon," Diantha said at last, and veiled her eyes from his
fascinated stare. Formerly she had treated him with the free-and-easy
pertness of a precocious child. Now the exquisite shyness of
maidenhood enveloped her. Instinct drew her back from the man's
inevitable advance. "I didn't know it was so late," she said to
Persis, oblivious to Thad's gasping greeting. "I must hurry."

Thad's sense of confusion was like a physical dizziness. This regal
young beauty was the daughter of the woman whose hand he had held
surreptitiously the previous evening. With an effort he steadied
himself, only to make the discovery that in that hazy moment the world
had undergone a process of readjustment. He knew as well as he was
ever to know it, that Annabel Sinclair belonged to another generation
from his own.

"I suppose you want to take this along." Persis' gesture indicated the
package containing the discarded serge which Diantha would have been
glad to contribute to the wardrobe of the youthful Trotters. But with
all her daring, her courage was hardly equal to such a step. She put
out her hand for the package, but Thad had already pounced upon it.

"I--I'm going your way," he said, a trace of his recent disorder in his
stammering speech. "I'll carry it for you."

Silently Diantha accepted the offer. Sh