e's no Miss Child on the passenger list."

"Maybe not; because she's one of Nadine's models, and I bought you a
gorgeous dress off her. I've been--saving it for a surprise. It's
called the 'New'--no, the 'Young Moon.'"

Ena forgot for a moment that she badly needed help from her brother
and began sharply to catechize him. "_When_ did you buy me a dress?
The day Lord Raygan offered to go back to that room and choose me one
and I said no, I didn't want a dress?"

"Yes. That was the day. I couldn't let her try it on in vain."

"Oh, you bought it to please _her_--the girl like a golliwog?"

"She isn't like a golliwog, really. That's not fair. And I bought the
dress to please you, of course. It's mighty pretty. I've got it in my
room."

"I wonder what your steward thinks? Well, I'll thank you when I see
it. But what an idea, to introduce one of those girls to _me_! Lord
Raygan said they were all bleached and painted, except the one who
wasn't pretty."

"That's my one. But I think she is pretty, and better than pretty. Her
eyes--and her smile---"

"Never mind her eyes and her smile. I _can't_ be introduced to a
model, Petro. I _won't_ know a dressmaker."

"Mother was one. And father's mother was a washer---"

"Be still, for the love of heaven! If any one should hear!"

"I'm not ashamed of---"

"Well, I _am_! Oh, Petro, don't be horrid, just when I really need you
to be nice. And you can be nice--very nice. Don't let's even think
about the family past. It's awful! It's a blot! But it can't be
helped. We must try to live it down. And we can, with our money. We
can and we must. A great chance has come to us. All the more because
of--of what you reminded me--we must be careful of the sort of people
we mix ourselves up with--"

"This girl is a lady."

Then Ena lost her temper. "They all are," she snapped. "I suppose
she's a clergyman's daughter and her parents are dead."

"Her mother is," Peter admitted.

"She _would_ be! What does the girl want help for? Doesn't Nadine pay
her wages?"

"She only engaged with Nadine to work out her passage."

"Oh! They say girls from all over the world are bearing down on poor
little old New York since Owen Johnson wrote 'The Salamander.'"

"Jove, Ena, I never knew before you had anything of the cat in you!"

This, and a flash in the eyes which were bluer than hers, brought Miss
Rolls to her bearings. She remembered the reason for going softly with
Peter. Luckily she had