and fish, had given place to beef,
when Maida came in, dressed in white, and looking beautiful. As she
appeared at one door Mr. Barrymore appeared at another, and was just in
time to pull out her chair instead of letting the waiter do it.

The Chauffeulier, seeing we had ploughed through half the menu, wouldn't
have bothered with soup or fish, but Maida insisted on having both,
piping hot too, though she never cares what she eats; so the belated one
got as good a dinner as anybody. Whether he realized that Maida had
waited for him I don't know, but he was so unusually talkative and full
of fun that I longed to "vipe" somebody, feeling as I did that his
cheerfulness was due to Maida's kindness. Unfortunately there was no
excuse for viping; but I suddenly thought how I could throw a little
cold water. "Have you noticed, Mr. Barrymore," I asked, "that my cousin
Maida never wears anything except black, or grey, or white?"

He looked at her. "Yes, I have noticed," he said, with an expression in
his eyes which added that he'd noticed everything concerning her. "But
then," he went on, "I haven't had time to see her whole wardrobe."

"If you had, it would be the same," said I. "It's a pity, I think, for
blue and pink and pale green, and a lot of other things would be so
becoming. But she's got an idea into her head that because, when she
goes back home a few months from now, she will enter that old con--"

"Beechy, please!" broke in Maida, her face almost as pink as an American
Beauty rose.

"Well you _are_ going to, aren't you?" I flew out at her. "Or have you
changed your mind--already?"

"I think you are very unkind," she said, in a low voice, turning white
instead of red, and Mr. Barrymore bit his lip, looking as if he would
rather shake me than eat his dinner. Then all at once I was dreadfully
sorry for hurting Maida, partly because Mr. Barrymore glared, partly
because she is an angel; but I would have died in agony sooner than say
so, or show that I cared, though I had such a lump in my throat I could
scarcely swallow. Of course everybody thought I had turned sulky, for I
shrugged my shoulders and pouted, and didn't speak another word. By and
by I really did begin to sulk, because if one puts on a certain
expression of face, after a while one finds thoughts that match it
stealing into one's mind. I grew so cross with myself and the whole
party, that when Mamma said she was tired and headachy, and would go to
our si