an open wound. It was an exact description of a certain rich
young man in the neighboring city, who loaded Miss Jellings with favors,
and whom Mr. Gilroy detested from the bottom of his soul. All that
afternoon, mixed in with his promptings and hesitations and travail of
spirit, had loomed large, the fair, plump features of his fancied rival.
Mr. Gilroy was a common-sense young business man, as free as most from
superstition; but when a man's in love he is open to omens.

He stared fixedly about the familiar office and out at the coal sheds
and dynamo, to make sure that he was still on solid earth. His gaze came
back to his visitors from the sky in absolute, anxious, pleading
bewilderment.

They were studying the cards again in a frowning endeavor to wrest a few
further items from their overtaxed imaginations. Patty felt that she had
already given him fifty cents' worth, and was wondering how to bring the
interview to a graceful end. She realized that they had carried the
farce too impertinently far, ever to be able to announce their identity
and suggest a ride home. The only course now, was to preserve their
incognito, make good their escape, and get back as best they could--at
least they had a dollar to aid in the journey!

She glanced up, mentally framing a peroration.

"I see good-a fortune," she commenced, "if--"

Her glance passed him to the open window, and her heart missed a beat.
Mrs. Trent and Miss Sarah Trent, come to complain about the new electric
lights, were serenely descending from their carriage, not twenty feet
away.

Patty's hand clutched Conny's shoulder in a spasmodic grasp.

"Sallie and the Dowager!" she hissed in her ear. "Follow me!"

With a sweep of her hand, Patty scrambled the cards together and rose.
There would be no chance to escape by the door; the Dowager's voice was
already audible in the outer office.

"Goo' by!" said Patty, springing to the window. "Gypsies call. We must
go."

She scrambled over the sill and dropped eight feet to the ground. Conny
followed. They were both able pupils of Miss Jellings.

Mr. Laurence K. Gilroy, open-mouthed, stood staring at the spot where
they had been. The next instant, he was bowing courteously to the
principals of St. Ursula's, and striving hard to concentrate a dazed
mind upon the short-circuit in the West Wing.

Patty and Conny left the car--and a number of interested passengers--at
the corner before they reached the school. Circumna