with approval and affection, and the Chairman
of the Program Committee said she was sure they were all deeply indebted
to Miss Vail for a most enlightening little lecture. "I am free to
confess," she said, smiling, "that it is a subject upon which I,
personally, have been ignorant, and I believe many of our club ladies
would say the same."

Jane, looking down into their pleasant, best-family faces knew this was
the fact. The word "Irish" conveyed to most of them only the red-armed
minions in their kitchens; the boys who ran noisily up alleyways with
butchers' parcels; the short-tempered dames in battered hats who came--or
distressingly did not come--to them on Monday mornings, and who
frequently bore away with them bars of perfectly new soap; and the
chuckles and sobs and moonlit whimsies of Yeats and Synge and Lady
Gregory did not, in their minds, connect up at all.

"And now," said the President, in her sweet New England voice, "I know
you will all wish to express your appreciation both to the Chairman of
our Program Committee, who has arranged so many literary treats for us,
and to Miss Vail for her delightful paper by a rising vote of thanks."
Then the thirty-four ladies of the Tuesday Club clutched at their gloves
and handbags and came to their feet with soft rustlings of new foulards
and taffetas and rich old silks, and the President declared the meeting
adjourned but trusted that every one would remain for a cup of tea and a
social hour.

Martin Wetherby's handsome mother took brisk and proprietary charge of
Jane and shared her laurels happily. "Yes, in_deed_," she beamed, her
gray crepe arm through the girl's, "I can tell you, _we're_ pretty proud
of her!" She had clearly cast herself already for the role of adoring and
devoted mother-in-law, and the Tuesday Club was just as clearly taking
the same view of it.

Jane, in her wine-red velvet and her glowing, gipsy beauty against the
sober blacks and grays and faded cheeks of the gathering, looking like a
Kentucky cardinal alighted in a henyard, felt her smile stiffening.
Sudden and inexplicable panic and rebellion descended upon her; it seemed
certain that if she heard Mrs. Wetherby say "proud of this dear girl of
ours" once again she would scream. She disengaged her arm and declined
tea and little frosted cakes.

"I'm so sorry--it looks so tempting, doesn't it?--but I really must fly!"
She looked earnestly at her wrist watch. "This very minute! Thank you al