That day seemed interminable to Jean. When the long afternoon had worn away and Farr had not come, she consoled herself with the thought that the evening would surely bring him. She tried to curb her impatience by filling the slow-footed moments with manifold unnecessary duties, but it seemed to her that the happy time would never come. They were all very quiet at dinner, for Helen was listening for the slightest sound from the nursery, while Jean's absorbing thoughts held her tongue in chains. "Well, well," cried Nathalie at last, "what will Miss Stuart think of us? No doubt that this is the home of the Sphinx. Our silence is growing gruesome." Thus recalled to her duties as hostess, Helen glanced quickly at her friend, and was distressed to see the expression of cold disdain that rested on her face. "I beg your pardon, Lillian," she said penitently, leaning forward and taking Miss Stuart's hand. "I am so upset about Gladys that I have forgotten my manners." "Pray, don't apologize, Helen. It is of no consequence whatever." Miss Stuart spoke with studied indifference and withdrew her hand. She deemed it only her right to be first with her friends always and under all circumstances; and to have Helen, adoring, subservient Helen, relegate her to a position of secondary importance was an offense which merited instant punishment. Jean and Nathalie, on the alert for any slight to their sister, exchanged significant glances. Helen made no further demonstration of affection, but began to talk gently and courteously to her guest. Jean and Nathalie came valiantly to her assistance, until at last Miss Stuart was forced to respond to their friendly overtures. When they were leaving the dining room she slipped her hand into Helen's arm. It was the nearest approach to an apology of which her nature was capable, and Helen had fain to be content. All her life Miss Stuart had been in the habit of snubbing people at her own sweet will and had found it a diverting occupation; but somehow it hurt her to snub Helen, the girl was always so patient and generous about it. They drifted quite naturally out onto the veranda. The sky was overcast, and a faint wind sighed among the trees. The heavy clouds promised rain, and the earth, after reveling in days of sunshine and nights of brilliant beauty, seemed wrapped in melancholy submission. Before very long Nan and Emily came running across the lawn. Nan greeted Miss Stuart cordially, but Emily was very cool, and looked askance at this dangerously beautiful addition to their circle. When she had shaken hands, she faced the girls as solemn as a judge. "Girls, what do you suppose has happened? The _Vortex_ has gone away, and those miserable men never came to say good-by, and did not even send a line." "Now see here, Emily," Nan interposed warmly. "I don't believe in being unjust. It must have been a sudden move, and of course we will hear from them."