the subject.

"You've been tempting fate to-night," he remarked with assumed
carelessness. "Don't you remember that to stand four girls in a row is a
bad omen?"

"Only for the one who first winks. Isn't that the way the saying goes? I
seldom wink, myself," she continued, smilingly. "But I have no faith in
ill omens. Their power is entirely due to mental fear."

"I think not," said Arthur, glad the conversation had taken this turn.
"Once I knew a fellow with thirteen letters in his name. He had no
mental fear. But he proposed to a girl--and was accepted."

She gave him one of those sudden, swift glances that were so
disconcerting.

"If you had a middle initial, there would be thirteen letters in your
own name, Arthur Weldon."

"But I haven't, Diana; I haven't," he protested, eagerly. "And if ever I
propose to a girl I'm sure she'll refuse me. But I've no intention of
doing such a crazy thing, so I'm perfectly safe."

"You cannot be sure until you try, Arthur," she replied pointedly, and
with a start he became conscious that he was again treading upon
dangerous ground.

"Come; let us rejoin your guests," said he, offering her his arm. "They
would all hate me if they knew I was keeping the fair Diana from them so
long." "Arthur, I must have a good long; talk with you--one of our
old, delightful confabs," she said, earnestly. "Will you call Sunday
afternoon? Then we shall be quite undisturbed."

He hesitated.

"Sunday afternoon?" he answered.

"Yes."

"All right; I'll come, Diana."

She gave him a grateful look and taking his arm allowed him to lead her
back to the drawing-room. The crush was over, many having already
departed. Some of the young people were dancing in the open spaces to
the music of a string orchestra hidden behind a bank of ferns in the
hall.

Louise and Beth were the centers of attentive circles; Patsy conversed
with merry freedom with a group of ancient dowagers, who delighted in
her freshness and healthy vigor and were flattered by her consideration.
Mrs. Merrick--for she had been invited--sat in a corner gorgeously robed
and stiff as a poker, her eyes devouring the scene. Noting the triumph
of Louise she failed to realize she was herself neglected. A single
glance sufficed to acquaint Diana with all this, and after a gracious
word to her guests here and there she asked Arthur to dance with her. He
could not well refuse, but felt irritated and annoyed when he observed
Louise's eye