knowledge prevailing of the period when the various ladies had emerged from having “help” to the stage of having servants--when they had changed the two-o’clock dinner to the eight-o’clock function. Each of these ladies knew all about the others, but hugged the delusion that the others did not know about them, or thought, as Eleanor Baldwin did, that they had come of a long line of belted earls, the Hogans included. Mrs. Baldwin, handsomer, haughtier-looking, and more silent than usual, listened to what was said. Constance Maitland--she alone, who fathomed the nature of this misunderstood woman--said, in describing it to Thorndyke, that she believed Mrs. Baldwin realised the nonsense of the proceedings better than any one present. Constance’s eyes danced when she told about the way in which her only suggestion was received--that it would be impossible to find any parallel between the conditions of governesses in England and the United States. This, however, was ruthlessly brushed aside by a lady who was determined that her daughter should sing a duet at the concert with a member of the Austrian Embassy staff. For the first time Mrs. Baldwin’s voice was heard and in it quiet advocacy of something sensible. This was when it was determined to charge a stupendous price for the tickets. “In that case,” she said, “it seems to me that we ought to have some real music. It doesn’t seem quite right to charge the price asked to hear good music, and then give a mere amateur performance.” “But it is for charity!” screamed several ladies in chorus. Then Constance, still with dancing eyes, told that great stress had been laid upon the alleged opinions of various ladies of the diplomatic corps, who had carefully refrained from expressing any opinions at all and were not present to take care of themselves; and Constance had landed a second bombshell in the camp by pleading ignorance of many admirable things, owing to her ill-fortune in being educated chiefly in Europe. This remark necessitated an immediate departure, in which she was followed by Mrs. Baldwin. The two going out together, Mrs. Baldwin had said diffidently to Constance: “Miss Maitland--I--I think you are right in all you have said to-day. I hope you’ll come to see me soon. I don’t seem to be afraid of you--you’re genuine. You’re never pretending to anything. Good-bye.” Mrs. Baldwin had not the gift of tongues, but, as Constance said, a compliment from Mrs. Baldwin was of value, no matter how awkwardly it was expressed.