r all the notice Estelle took of them.

"She--she doesn't know us," whispered Ruth.

"She will, as soon as you speak," said Miss Lyon. "Just talk to her in a
low voice, but naturally. She'll know you then, I'm sure."

"How--how are you feeling?" asked Ruth, in a whisper.

There was no response--no light of recognition in the eyes.

"A little louder and call her by name," suggested the nurse.

"You try, Alice," Ruth whispered.

Her sister stepped to the bedside.

"Estelle, don't you know me?" Alice asked.

The eyes turned in the direction of the voice.

"Were you speaking to me?" came the question, and both Ruth and Alice
started at the changed tones of their friend.

"Yes, to you," Alice answered.

"I--I _don't_ know you," was the gentle response.

"Don't you know me--Alice DeVere? And this is my sister, Ruth. Don't you
know us, Estelle?"

"Is your name Estelle?" came the query.

"No, that is _your_ name," and Alice smiled, though a cold hand seemed
to be clutching at her heart. "That is your name--you are Estelle. Don't
you remember?"

"Estelle what? Who is Estelle?"

"You are. You are Estelle Brown! Don't you know your own name?"

The golden head on the white pillow was slowly moved from side to side.
The bright eyes showed no sign of recognition. Then came the gentle
voice:

"I am not Estelle Brown. I don't know her. What do you mean? I don't
know any of you. Why am I here? What has happened? I wish you would take
me home at once. I live at the Palace."

"What--what does she mean?" gasped Ruth, looking in alarm at the nurse.

"I don't know. Perhaps she is delirious and imagines she is playing in
the moving pictures. Was there a palace scene?"

"Not since she joined the company. But why does she deny her identity?"

"I can not say. Sometimes after an injury like this happens, people say
queer things. We had better not disturb her further. I'll call Dr.
Wherry."

Alice made one more effort to bring recollection to Estelle.

"Don't you know me, dear?" she asked softly. "I am Alice--your friend
Alice. This is Ruth, and you are Estelle Brown, from Boston, you know."

"Boston? I was never in Boston. And I am not Estelle Brown. You must be
mistaken."

Her eyes roved around the hospital room, and a look of pain and fright
dimmed them. Then, seeming to fear that she had been unkind, she said
gently to Alice:

"I am sorry I do not know you, for you are trying to help me, I am sure.
But I nev