Dora was her sister's antithesis, save that both were brunettes. She was simply a lovable, docile, impressionable, pretty girl. She adored her mother, and worshipped her sister whom she called "The Queen." Dora was only seventeen. There had been three boys born between the sisters, but they had died in infancy. The two girls were in the sumptuous parlor of their apartment, Emily lying on the soft lounge, whilst Dora sat near her in a cosy armchair which made her look almost a little girl. "Queen, did you enjoy the opera last night?" asked Dora. "Oh! yes," replied Emily, "But you know, my dear, comic opera--is comic opera, and all is said." "It's all very fine for you to talk in that patronizing way, Queen, about amusement, but it is different with me. I have not outgrown the theatre yet. I'll tell you what I have been thinking of seriously--" "Seriously," laughed Emily, pinching her pretty sister's cheek. "Why you sly little rogue, you couldn't be serious if you tried." "Oh! couldn't I! But listen. I am going to ask Bob----" "Bob?" "Mr. Mitchel, you know. I told him last night that I mean to call him Bob after this, and he kissed me and said it was a bargain." "Kissed you, did he? Well Miss Impudence, I like that." "So did I. But you need not scold, because you know what Bob says is law. You are as much afraid of him as--well as all the rest of the men are of you. But I haven't told you what I am going to do. I want Bob to take me with you both, whenever you go to the theatre." "Oho! So that is your little plot, is it?" "Yes! What do you think of it?" "What do I think of it? Now I shall surprise you. I think it is an excellent idea. I love you very much, my little sweetheart sister, and shall be only too glad to see you have as much pleasure as your heart longs for." "You darling Queen!" and with an impetuous bound the younger girl was on her knees with her arms around Emily, raining kisses upon her lips. This effusive show of affection, Emily received with evident pleasure, for, however dignified she could be in her bearing, leaving the impression that she was cold, in reality she was warm-hearted to a degree which would have surprised the gossips. Nestling her head in the folds of her sister's soft silk gown, thus hiding her face, Dora said timidly: "May I tell you something Queen?" "Ha! You mischief, what have you to confess now?" "I have invited a man to call here," replied Dora suddenly raising her head, and speaking with a different touch in her tones. "Is that all?" laughed Emily, "Who is the monster? Where did you meet him?" "I have met him several times, at afternoon teas. The last time he asked me if he might call--and I told him he could do so this afternoon, when I thought you would be at home. Was it very wrong?" "Well, Dora, I don't think it was exactly proper, but perhaps it may be all right, since you have met him at several of our friends' houses. But what is his name?" "Alphonse Thauret."