to proceed there.

"I am positively out of my element in this affair," she told herself,
"for it is more difficult to cultivate these inexperienced girls than I
had thought. They are not exactly impossible, as I at first feared, but
they are so wholly unconventional as to be somewhat embarrassing as
_protegees_. Analyzing the two I have met--the majority--one strikes me
as being transparently affected and the other a stubborn, attractive
fool. They are equally untrained in diplomacy and unable to cover their
real feelings. Here am I, practically dragging them into the limelight,
when it would be far better for themselves--perhaps for me--that they
remained in oblivion. Ah, well: I called it an adventure: let me hope
some tangible plot will develop to compensate me for my trouble. Life
seems deadly dull; I need excitement. Is it to be furnished by John
Merrick's nieces, I wonder?" Willing Square is a new district, crowded
with fashionable apartment houses. That is, they are called fashionable
by their builders and owners and accepted as such by their would-be
fashionable occupants. Diana knew at least two good families resident in
Willing Square, and though she smiled grimly at the rows of
"oppressively new and vulgar" buildings, she still was not ashamed to
have her equipage seen waiting there.

Number 3708 Willing Square is a very substantial and cozy appearing
apartment building owned in fee by Miss Patricia Doyle. Diana was
unaware of this fact, but rang the Doyle bell and ascended to the second
floor.

A maid received her with the announcement that Miss Doyle had "just
stepped out," but was somewhere in the building. Would the visitor care
to wait a few minutes?

Yes; Diana decided she would wait. She took a seat in the snug front
parlor and from her position noted the series of rooms that opened one
into another throughout the suite, all richly but tastefully furnished
in homely, unassuming manner. "This is better," she mused. "There is
no attempt at foolish display in this establishment, at any rate. I hope
to find Miss Doyle a sensible, refined person. The name is Irish."

A door slammed somewhere down the line of rooms and a high-pitched voice
cried in excited tones:

"I've found a baby! Hi, there, Nunkie, dear--I've found a baby!"

Thereupon came the sound of a chair being pushed back as a man's voice
answered in equal glee:

"Why, Patsy, Patsy! it's the little rogue from upstairs. Here, Bobby;
com