d Barbara. "He looks
so worn. What is the trouble? Has your father been ill?"

"No. Not in the sense you mean. Nevertheless, we are greatly worried
about him. He has been speculating. We think he has lost a lot of money.
He does not speak of his business affairs as he used to do, and that
makes us all the more certain that things are not going as they should
with him. However, I mustn't speak of these matters now, as I wish you
to have the happiest time of your life while you are with us. Why,
Barbara Thurston, what a lovely frock!" exclaimed Ruth impulsively.

Barbara flushed with pleasure at the compliment. Her gown was of dark
red crepe-de-chine, trimmed in soft folds of liberty velvet. Bab had
tucked a single red rose in her hair. Ruth never had seen Bab look more
charming.

"It is mother's Christmas present to me," explained Bab, referring to
the frock. "I think it very pretty."

"I wish I could look half so well in anything," answered Ruth, but
without a trace of envy in her tone. "But I must hurry. If I run on like
this we'll never get to the opera."

"I was just about to ask if you mind my running down to chat with your
father a few moments before we go?"

"Do, dear. It will do him good. You always act like a tonic on father,"
smiled Ruth. "He's in the library."

Bab tripped away, holding up her skirts, followed by the admiring eyes
of her friend.

"She's such a dear," mused Ruth, beginning the finishing touches of her
dressing.

Bab was especially anxious to see Mr. Stuart alone. She wanted to see if
she could fathom the cause of his distress. He looked even more tired
and careworn than when she had first seen him. She entered the library
rather diffidently pausing before Mr. Stuart, who stood near the
fireplace.

"Am I intruding?" asked Bab.

"Intruding, my dear? You could not do that. But how beautiful you are
to-night."

"Don't. Please don't," protested Bab with well-feigned displeasure. "You
will make me a vain little creature. Ruth has just said the same thing
to me. At this rate I fear I shall begin to believe something of the
sort myself very soon."

"No," answered Mr. Stuart, gazing at her approvingly. "You are far too
sensible a young woman to have your head turned so easily as that. Tell
me about your good mother. How is she?"

"Quite well, thank you," replied Bab simply.

"I am sorry that she could not come with you. We had hoped to have her
with us."

"Yes, we wanted mother to