ithout interest.

"Princess Sanzanow hasn't forgotten you, and sends you a special
message."

(Princess Sanzanow is the wife of the Russian ambassador.)

"She's giving quite an informal dinner," Di went on, "getting it up
almost on the spur of the moment, because the doctor says that Stefan is
well enough to go out, and the affair is really for him and Milly. I
don't think there'll be many there except ourselves, for the princess is
asking every one verbally. That's why she sends you a message instead of
a card. It is to say that she has always admired 'la petite Lady Peggy,'
and now more than ever. I happened to tell her about your Liege
experience, and your work for the Belgians. She particularly wants me to
bring you to dinner with her and the prince to-morrow night. You'll
come, of course?"

"Oh, I don't know if I can!" I hesitated. "There's so much to do here,
and, anyhow, I haven't a frock. Miss Jane and Miss Emma bought me lots
of nice things when they bought their own, for, of course, they lost
their luggage, too. But we never so much as thought of evening dresses.
I'd forgotten their existence!"

"But you _must_ go," Di persisted. "The trunk you stored at Norfolk
Street for Ballyconal has been brought here with Father's and Kitty's
things. Celestine can take the measurements of some frock or other
you've packed away there, and I'll go out and choose a pretty model
gown, ready to wear, for a present to you. Shoes and gloves you can get
yourself, I suppose? If you'll come here early to dress, Celestine can
take tucks and change hooks in next to no time, if necessary. I accepted
for you; and it will be horribly rude to the Princess if you refuse now,
for no reason at all."

* * * * *

I could have found or invented a reason, if I hadn't remembered in a
sudden flash that Monsieur Mars' companion in flight was supposed to be
a nephew of Prince Sanzanow. If I went to the Embassy I might hear news.
I was willing to do almost anything for that hope, even to dressing at
Sidney Vandyke's house, and continuing the armed truce in his automobile
to our destination. But I drew the line at accepting a frock bought with
his money.

"Why, yes, I'd forgotten the trunk I packed up with winter things for
Ballyconal," I answered. "There's that white chiffon velvet gown, made
over from yours, which I wore in New York last spring before the weather
turned hot. Do you remember? It will do beaut