They talked breathlessly in laughter-punctuated gusts. They went back to the beginning of things and rapidly worked down past the Deluge which separated them, and the subsequent wanderings. They brought their life histories almost up to date, and then, suddenly, Miss Lucilla Ryder entered Belinda's tale. "Miss Lucilla Ryder!" As she spoke the name she underwent a sudden transformation. Her smiles and dimples vanished, her face lengthened miraculously, her eyes stared fixedly at some awesome vision. Lieutenant Wendell cast an alarmed look over his shoulder. The glance encountered a blank wall and returned to Belinda's face. "For Heaven's sake, what is it?" he asked. "The girls!" said Belinda in a whisper. Once more the Lieutenant looked over his shoulder. "Where?" he inquired, eyeing her anxiously. "I--don't--know," faltered Belinda. "Good Heavens, Belinda," protested the Lieutenant. "Wake up. What's the matter? Are you ill?" Her look and manner distressed him. This was some sort of an attack, and he didn't understand. He didn't know what ought to be done. Belinda had clutched his coat sleeve. He patted her hand encouragingly. "There, there, never mind," he murmured soothingly. Never mind, indeed! Belinda waxed tremblingly wroth. "I'm in a cold sweat. They've gone home alone. Oh, Jack, what shall I do? I don't dare to meet Miss Ryder. She'll send me away to-morrow. It's awful!" Still holding him by the coat sleeve, she was pulling him toward the door. The lobby was almost empty. The few stragglers were eyeing the tableau curiously. Masculine common-sense asserted itself. The Lieutenant drew Belinda's hand through his arm and stopped her under the glare of the electric light. "Don't be an idiot," he said brusquely. "Who is Miss Ryder? Who are the girls?" The bullying stirred the young woman to intelligence. "She's principal of the school. I'm teaching there. I brought twelve pupils to the theatre." Amazement, comprehension, sympathy chased each other across the man's face and were swallowed by wild mirth, but Belinda's eyes filled with tears, and his mirth evaporated. "Never mind. Buck up, little girl. We'll fix it some way. We'll get a cab. We'll kill a horse. We'll get there before they can. Maybe they won't tell." "Oh, yes, they will. If they were only boys--but girls will." Still Belinda revived slightly under the suggestion. "Come on. We must hustle." He hurried her to the door. Alert, energetic, self-confident, he had taken command of affairs. Belinda's spirits soared. After all, she reflected, there's something about a man. He has his moments. It was raining. The crowd had scattered, the carriages had gone. As Lieutenant Wendell raised an umbrella and looked sharply around for a cab Belinda's eyes caught sight of a row of dripping umbrellas ranged along the curb. Below the umbrellas were carefully lifted petticoats. She counted the umbrellas. There were twelve. "Jack, look!" He looked. Belinda darted forward.