A screen usually stood near the door at the back of the parlor. She hoped that she should find it there now, and that no one would be sitting at that end of the parlor. In that case she could peep from behind the screen or perhaps through its crack. She found to her satisfaction that the screen was there, and that her sisters with their guests were sitting at the farther end of the room,—it was a large one with two doors,—and she immediately placed herself in a position from which she fancied that she could command a view of the room without being perceived herself. She was also pleased to discover that her sisters were sitting with their backs to her, while their visitors faced her. She could thus see exactly what they looked like. Mr. Madison was telling Katherine a story. It appeared to be an interesting tale as well as an amusing one, for Katherine was laughing heartily, and presently Honor and Miss Madison gave up their conversation and listened also. Sophy, thinking the crack unsatisfactory and growing bolder, peered around the corner of the screen for a second at a time. She found it a fascinating pursuit. Mr. Madison continued his story. It was a favorite one with him, and he had seldom found more appreciative listeners than the two Miss Starrs. He was approaching his point, leading up to it with the skill of an accomplished storyteller when—what was that? His eye caught something that moved, at the other end of the room. Probably the dog which had barked upon their arrival and had since disappeared. He continued his tale, but there it was again! Surely it was no dog that he saw, but pink roses, yellow ribbon, white lace, appearing, vanishing, and reappearing from behind the screen. He faltered for a moment in the story, and his sister wondered what was the matter. She looked at him, and then followed his glance. It was resting upon an extraordinary vision. A small pale face, with large brown eyes wide open with wonder at the tale, the face surmounted by a wreath of pink roses, was thrust from behind the screen. Roger controlled his amusement with difficulty, and brought the story to an abrupt termination. “Is that really true?” asked a voice from the back of the room when the laughter had ceased. The sisters turned. There stood Sophy in her fantastic costume, emerging boldly from her hiding-place and bent as usual upon probing the truth of the story to the core. “Is it true?” she repeated. “Why, Sophy!” exclaimed Honor and Katherine together. “What are you doing there? What _have you_ got on? And why aren’t you in bed?” “I want to know if that story is true.” It was always impossible to turn Sophy from the subject which at the moment chanced to absorb her. “I’m afraid it isn’t,” replied Roger Madison, laughing, “but if you will come over here, I will tell you one that is.”