“As I live, it’s the baby lying in state—no, holding a levée, I mean. What an odd-shaped cradle! Isn’t he a fright, but look at his robe—Irish point all made in one piece—and his gold toilet things on that tray! Well, after all, there must be something novel to the Parkses about this. Papa has been married three times and mamma twice, and this Chinese Joss is all there is to show for it! I wonder if her craze for collecting bric-a-brac can possibly account for his looks? If there isn’t the Senator himself, hovering around to show off his little son. I wonder if Madame knows papa is on the premises? Gracious, he’s taking the baby out of the Easter egg! Hear the lace tear, and that monumental English head nurse doesn’t move a muscle! “Don’t look distressed and blush so, Brooke; facts are facts, and then besides, nobody can hear me in this babel. Now, let’s agree where we shall meet, for we shall be duly torn asunder directly we go downstairs. Come in here a second, my head feathers are awry. What a mercy it is to have hair like yours, that the more it is let alone, the better it behaves! “No, don’t touch the strings of your poke, and leave your bodice alone. That creamy lace simply looks confidential and clinging, and not a bit mussy like mine.” “I think I will go to the picture gallery as soon as we have made our bows to Mrs. Parks, and settle there,” said Brooke, “so that I can see everything before the concert is over. Then you will know where to find me. To-day I feel more like looking than listening,” she added, when Lucy was silenced a moment by holding half a dozen jewelled stick pins between her lips, as she rearranged the folds of an expensive draped lace bodice that, in spite of the beauty of the fabric, seemed out of key and mussy, the severe and tailor-made being better adapted to her. For a few moments the two lingered in one of the alcoves of the dressing room, looking for familiar faces among the arrivals. “By the way, I suppose Mr. Fenton is coming in later with the other down-town men?” said Brooke. “If so, you needn’t look me up at all.” “Dick may be coming, though I doubt it, but it will not be to meet me. See here, goosie,” said Lucy, half avoiding her friend’s eyes, “I might as well tell you now as any other time. Dick and I have agreed to disagree. It happened last Sunday, and I’d have told you before, only you take all such things so seriously.” “What is the matter; has he changed?”