p until noon,
quite convinced that any one would have called it a day.

Such a party greeted Steve, with Gay showing plans for Beatrice's
secret room with a sliding panel--clever idea, splendid when they
would be playing hide and seek--and the cooks en route with the
kettles and bottles of wine and the husbands meekly arriving in sulky
silence.

A little before two in the morning Steve escorted Aunt Belle back to
the Constantine house.

Beatrice had started to go to bed, but thinking of something she
wished to ask Steve she stationed herself in his room, some candy near
at hand and Sezanne's manuscript as solace until he should arrive.

"I wanted to ask you if Mary Faithful has returned," she said,
throwing down the manuscript as he came in. "Heavens, don't look like
a thundercloud! You used to complain about getting into evening dress
for dinner; and now when they are as informal as a church supper you
row even more. How was papa? Did you go in to see him? Does the house
look terrible?"

"Of course I didn't see your father at two in the morning; he was
asleep. Your aunt fell into a bucket of plaster."

"Plaster! Why did the men leave it where she could fall into it? Did
it hurt her dress?"

"No, just her bones." Steve laughed in spite of himself. "The dress
hadn't started to begin where the bones hit the bucket."

Beatrice giggled. "Aunt Belle will try to look like a Kate Greenaway
creation. And isn't Jill stout? I'd eat stones before I'd get like
her. Well, what about the Faithful woman?"

"Why such a title? It was always Mary Faithful, and even Mary."

"I don't know--but ever since I worked with you this summer I've
realized what an easy time she has. She isn't burdened with friends
and social duties. It's all so clearcut and straight-ahead sailing for
her. I suppose she laughs at her day's work."

"She has returned."

"Then we can go to the Berkshires. Sezanne knows an artist and some
people from Chicago who are ripping company and they are going to
visit her cousin at Great Barrington and we are all invited
there----"

"Once and for all," Steve said, shortly, to his own surprise, "I am
not in on this! Just count yourself a fair young widow for the time
being. I cannot run my business, help close up your father's affairs,
be a social puppet, and go chasing off with bob-haired freaks to the
Berkshires, and expect to survive. I'm going to work and keep on the
job--it will be bad enough when I have to