During the days which had accumulated into weeks since her entry into the Cabot home, her influence upon the boy had continued to be poured into the mold of their first hour. The household agreed that none of the many who had undertaken him had approached her success. Rather than the problem which he was said to have been to earlier governesses, he had become a revelation to her. Although they continued to play “Turn-About” at times, she had ceased to rely upon games for the establishment of understanding between them. So long as Jack did what he knew to be right and fair, he and she might share enjoyment, even happiness. When he ceased, her disappointment in him spoiled their day. They consulted upon every item of their daily program subject to change. From play to text-books had been a gradual but sure transition. What at first had caused ruction, became a medium of pleasant companionship. Lessons learned under a “pal” instead of a task-mistress didn’t seem like lessons at all. Dolores’ service was but what she would have given unrequited to the stunted human plant. Love had bloomed as her reward. The lad’s devotion to her had become a by-word in the house. Only last evening, when she had slipped into his room to tell him good-night after the maid had left, he had overcome his prejudice against any show of affection sufficiently to lift his over-long arms about her neck. “’Lores,” he had whispered half-ashamedly, “I have made up a nice name for you. I don’t wish to tell even you what it is. I’m afraid you’d make fun of it. It is just a little name for you that I save to think about when I’m trying to go to sleep.” With the poignant memory, the girl felt comforted. Life, which hitherto had seemed indifferent when not actually cruel toward her, had grown kind. Surely no malice of Jade Fate could be behind the gift of a child’s adoration. And in what luxury did she live--she, whose sole capital so recently had been a ripening nectarine! No opportunity was given her to think of her needs. They were fore-attended. Beside her own beautiful room, the young heir’s kingdom was shared with her. And more than her needs were remembered. Mrs. Cabot’s gratitude and affection took the practical form of tickets to theater and opera matinees, of the free use of Jack’s car, and twice of invitations downstairs to dine _en famille_. In a partial expenditure of her salary, she had acquired, by way of being more worthy her surroundings, some unpretentious, but pretty clothes. The black worn for Trevor Trent she had laid away for the gayer colors liked by Jack, just as she was trying to lay away sorrow for good cheer. To-day, where was that good cheer? Here she had shut herself in her room in a panic of foreboding. Was she so used to trouble that she would attract by expecting it? Despite the general kindness toward her, she felt afraid.