As he was making one of his long and stately speeches, Miss Hathaway laid her hand on Thorpe's arm. "Take my advice," she said, in her cool even tones. "Do not go near Nina to-night. Let her alone. I think she wishes it." Thorpe made no reply. Miss Hathaway might as well have asked him to hold his breath until the entertainment was over. The ladies went at once to a large room set aside for their use and donned their evening frocks. These frocks were very simple for the most part, organdie or swiss, and they were adjusted casually before the solitary mirror. Nina's gown was of white nainsook ruffled to the waist with lace, and very full. The low cut bodice was gathered into the belt like a child's. Sometime since a local goldsmith of much cunning had, out of a bar of native gold, fashioned for her three flexible serpents. She wore one through her hair, one on her left arm, and a heavier one about her waist. "_Dios de mi alma_, Nina," exclaimed Mrs. Earle; "you look like an imp to-night. What is the matter with you? Your eyes look--look--I hardly know what you do look like." "Are you well, Nina?" asked Miss Hathaway, turning and smiting the girl with her polaric stare. "Have not you a headache? Why not lie down and not bother with this ball?" For a moment Nina did not reply. She brought her small teeth together, and looked into Miss Hathaway's eyes with passionate resentment. "Just mind your own business, will you?" she said, pitching her voice for the other woman's ear alone. "And you'd oblige me by transfixing some one else for the rest of the evening. I've had enough of your attentions for one day." Then she shook out her skirts as only an angry woman can, and left the room. "Nina is in one of her unpleasant moods to-night," said Mrs. McLane, attempting a glimpse of herself over Miss McDermott's shoulder, that she might adjust a hairpin. "I have not seen her like this for some time--seven weeks," and she smiled. "She looks like a little devil," said Mrs. Earle. "I have not been here long enough to become intimate with her moods, and I must say I prefer her without them. What are you scowling about, 'Lupie? Is your sash crooked? Can I fix it? But I forgot: you are above such trifles--Holy Mary! Guadalupe Hathaway! what on earth is the matter with your back?" "What?" asked Miss Hathaway, presenting her back squarely. There was a simultaneous chorus of shrieks. "Guadalupe, for Heaven's sake, what have you been doing?" cried Mrs. McLane. "Your back is striped--dark brown and white." "Oh, is that all?" asked Miss Hathaway, gathering up her fan and gloves. "I suppose it got sunburned this morning at croquet. I had on a blouse with alternate thick and thin stripes. _Hasta luego!_" and she moved out, not with any marked grace, but with a certain dignity which saved the stripes from absurdity. "_Bueno!_" exclaimed Mrs. Earle, "I'd like to have as little vanity as that. How peaceful, and how cheap!"