return to his guests as
soon as he had telephoned certain necessary orders to his office. Mr.
Stuart had barely left the room when Bab and Ruth entered. Olive came
forward quickly. She took Barbara's arm in hers, steering Bab toward
Mrs. Presby.

"I want you to meet my mother. I know you will love her, for she's a
dear. Mama, this is Barbara Thurston, of whom you have heard so much. I
can assure you that she has not been overrated."

Bab moved blushingly forward. The floor was one of those slippery,
hard-wood traps for the unwary. Barbara was not used to polished floors.
She took a long step to keep up with Olive, who was moving rapidly.
Bab's foot came in contact with a small rug, and together the rug and
foot slid over the slippery floor.

Barbara Thurston's other foot followed the first. Realizing that a fall
was inevitable, Barbara quickly released her arm from Miss Presby's.

"Oh!" exclaimed Bab, and sat down on the floor with such force that it
jarred her from head to foot. There was a distinct vibration from
several articles in the room as though they were moving out of sheer
sympathy for the unfortunate girl.

Barbara struggled to her feet. Again she stumbled over the rug that had
caused her to fall, and brought up heavily against a dark object near
by. The object uttered a deep groan, as out of the shadows limped an
elderly, dignified man. Pain and anger were struggling for the mastery
of his facial expression. Barbara had landed fairly on Mr. Richard
Presby's gouty foot.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," pleaded the girl. "I am so awkward and I
did not see you at all. Please forgive me, if you can," she begged.

Mr. Presby, however, merely grunted out some unintelligible words. That
he was not appeased by her contrition was plain to be seen. He had been
in the act of rising to his feet to bow to the girls when Bab collided
with him. Grace, Mollie and Ruth, who had followed Barbara into the
room, suppressed their giggles with no little effort.

Barbara rushed toward the shadowy, far corner of the room, where she
sought to hide her confusion. She flung herself into a great, easy
chair. Something under her moved and wriggled.

"Oh, I say," exclaimed a voice from under her. "Get up. Don't put me out
of business, too."

Bab sprang to her feet, her face burning with humiliation. She whirled
about and peered into the depths of the chair. There sat a boy of
twelve, grinning from ear to ear.

"I'm Tom," he i