“Pardon, adored one, but have you considered the other needs of your household?” “What other needs could there be in which this celebrated miss is concerned?” “Only yesterday madame was saying that her husband seemed afflicted with ennui--that it might be advisable to stimulate his interest in life. Might it not prove pleasant, my angel, if the father of the infant terrible should find the new governess--shall I say, _congenial_?” “Enough, my clever Henri. I understand.” So complete was the change of manner with which Mrs. Cabot stopped the girl at the door that a more experienced person could scarcely have been blamed for bewilderment. Her cynical expression was lost in a humid smile. Her voice softened. She tossed aside the crop with which she had been swishing the air to extend the hand of appeal. “The Marquis d’Elie has criticized my lack of charity,” she said. “Perhaps I _am_ wrong to jump at conclusions. And it is a responsibility to send a mere child like you back into a world which already has been rather hard on her. Then, too, my unfortunate offspring is to be considered. It is quite possible that he might get along better with a young person than the nursery monitors he so often has defeated. I wonder if you are as amiable as you look--if you could forgive the hasty things I said just now?” Dolores did not know what to think, still less what to say. She parried by a question which interested her. “You call your son unfortunate. What is the matter with him?” Catherine Cabot’s first talent was that of taking. Whatever she wanted in life she took as her perquisite. Always had she taken admiration, service, flattery, love, sacrifice, money. Literally she had taken her husband because he was useful to her. She proceeded now to take Dolores Trent. “Oh, my dear, if you could know how unfortunate! Most children have some sort of a chance, but not my poor Jackie. Probably after you have seen him and know something of the disposition that comes from his sufferings, you won’t wish to undertake him. You would need a love for children great enough to include the most unlovable.” “But I have a great love for children,” Dolores said. “My neighbors used to say that I have a way with them.” “Mr. Cabot would be relieved of his heaviest burden if we’d find some one who could handle Jack.” Catherine continued her “taking.” “It would seem like a fatality, wouldn’t it, if in return for his small service to you that day at Seff’s----” “His service wasn’t small, Mrs. Cabot. I may have seemed ungrateful not to thank him, but I---- You see----”