beautiful friend with, at most, a gentle protest. If matters were
too bad, she stayed away for a week, and was sure to find the lady in
her most winning mood at the end of that time; but she had never
attempted any more severe measure than this.

"Do you think--do you feel as if you were getting hold of her at all,
Grace?" she asked. "She is really very fascinating, when she wants to
be."

"I am not fascinated!" said Grace; and for a moment the half-whimsical,
half-reckless look, which was her usual expression, gave way to one that
was stern enough. "Mrs. Peyton appears to me to be a wholly selfish
person; a thing rarely met with in such entirety. I have promised my
Good Physician that I will try to rouse her, and see if there is any
scrap of woman left inside this pretty shell; I am going to do my best.
I think it doubtful if there is, but I am going to do my best."

Peggy gazed at her with adoring eyes and felt absolute assurance that
Mrs. Peyton would shortly be converted into an angel. Did not Grace
always do what she undertook to do?

With one of her sudden movements, Grace turned to her, and put her hands
on her shoulders. "Behold my Innocent happy!" she said. "What of the
other Owls, Babe? Do they hoot happily, and flap friskily?"

"Oh, Grace, they want to hear from you so much! The Snowy is really
anxious. She is afraid you are sick, or--or something. Do write to her,
dear; won't you?"

"The Snowy," said Grace, "is one of the few wholly satisfactory persons
in the world. I have an immense respect for the Snowy, as well as a
strong affection. If I could write to anybody, I think it would be to
her. It may even be done, Innocent. Who knows?"

"She was afraid--" Peggy hesitated.

"She was afraid," said Grace, coolly, "that I was going on the variety
stage. Yes; but you see, I did not. But I admit there are grounds--yes,
I will write, Innocent. And now I must go," she added, rising. "I may
come again, Margaret? Tie a white ribbon on the window-tassel when you
do not want me. Good night!"

"Oh, but, my dear, you are not going out in that way!" cried Margaret,
in distress. "Why not go down-stairs and out of the door, like a
Christian?"

"There is nothing distinctively unchristian, I hold, in going by way of
the window," replied Grace, her hand already on the sash. "Consider, I
pray you, the rapture of the one method, the futile stupidity of the
other. Enough! I am gone."

She slipped lightly over the sil