lousy
when Ray bent, with that earnest, luminous look, to whisper his parting
in Mona's ear.

They belonged to a brilliant society belle, Miss Josephine Holt, who had
long entertained a secret affection for Ray.

She also knew Mona, having met her in society earlier in the season, and
had been jealous of the young man's attentions to her.

She wondered at finding her there at Hazeldean, for she knew of her loss
of fortune. She slipped out of sight into a dressing-room as Mona came up
stairs, and, finding Miss Merrill there, asked her, in an indifferent
tone, as Mona passed the door, who the young lady was.

"Oh, that is Ruth Richards--Mrs. Montague's waiting-maid," was the reply.

A smile of scorn leaped to Miss Holt's proud lips as she heard the name.

"Ruth Richards," she repeated to herself. "So this is how she disappeared
so suddenly out of the knowledge of everybody. A common waiting-maid, and
too proud to sail under her own name! I wonder if she is a relative of
Mrs. Montague? If she is, perhaps that lady objected to having it known,
and so called her Ruth Richards. Can it be possible that Ray Palmer
is attentive to her _now_? Does he know that she is sailing under false
colors? I think I will look into this state of affairs a little!"

The young lady donned her wraps and took her departure from Hazeldean,
but with an angry frown upon her brow, for her enjoyments of the evening
had been entirely spoiled by the little scene which she had just
witnessed.

After Ray left Mona he drew his outside coat on over his evening dress
and went out into the grounds for a quiet smoke and to think, for he felt
troubled and nervous.

His father's flush and embarrassment, as he caught his eye while passing
through the drawing-room, were a revelation to him.

Mona had spoken to him of his attentions to Mrs. Montague, and he had
also observed them, since coming to Hazeldean, but he had hoped that they
were only temporary, and would not amount to anything serious.

But to-night it was only too evident that the beautiful and dashing widow
had acquired a strong influence over his father, and he began to fear
that he was seriously contemplating making her his wife.

He was startled and shocked--not because of any unreasonable jealousy, or
a selfish aversion to the thought of having his father take a congenial
companion into his home; but he feared she was not a woman to make him
happy. She was gay and worldly; she lived for