it," he replied with fervor.

"Thank you, and--and--I shall not be nearly so busy from now on. I have
almost finished my--my--picture."

The answer, the various answers that Hayden made were of the usual order
and need not be recorded; but her predictions were speedily fulfilled,
for within the hour, Mrs. Ames had called him to the telephone and in the
nearest approach to dulcet tones which she could compass was urging him
to take luncheon with herself and a few friends at the Waldersee on the
following day.

With Marcia in mind, he promptly, even effusively accepted. He was struck
by the fact that his prospective hostess had chosen one of the most
conspicuous hotels in the town wherein to entertain her guests instead of
doing the thing decently and soberly amid the 1850 splendors of her
ancestral down-town home. Yes, the eccentric old creature had something
in the wind, beyond question, and his curiosity was but increased when he
learned, some hours later, from Kitty Hampton that neither herself, Bea
Habersham nor Edith Symmes were bidden to the feast.

But not long was he left in suspense, for Mrs. Ames herself hastened to
allay his curiosity when she met him the next day in one of the
reception-rooms of the hotel, where he arrived promptly on the hour she
had mentioned. He looked about him in some surprise, for although there
were several detached people in the room, the rest of her guests, whoever
they might be, had not yet arrived.

"I asked you a bit early, Mr. Heywood, Harden,--oh, what is your name?
Well, it doesn't matter--Hayden--oh, yes; because there was something I
particularly wanted to say to you. You see, this is rather an especial
occasion," she settled complacently a row of dull black bracelets set
with great diamonds on her arm. Hayden reflected on her odd passion for
dusty gems. "Can you imagine who my guests are and why I have asked them
here?" she lifted her formidable lorgnon and surveyed him through it, her
eyes reminding more than ever of those of some fierce, inquisitive bird.

"Truly, I can not, dear lady," Hayden assured her in all sincerity. "You
suggest all manner of unexpected and delightful things."

"My guests," said Mrs. Ames, smoothing her black bombazine impressively
and detaching a bit of straw from some tangled fringe, "are, to mention
the men first, Wilfred, Horace Penfield and yourself, and my women guests
are Marcia Oldham and Ydo Carrothers."

"Really!" was all Hayden co