She told Marie how she worked every day down-town, and how the little Cloud Cote would be her own all day, how she had friends coming often in the evening, friends who would love Marie, but whom she never need to see except when her heart desired. And she told of the lovely lawn, with its pavilions and pergolas and crevices and vines, and of the canyon drifting away down to the bay. And Marie sat with her chin in her hands, her eyes soft and humble, dog-like, on Eveley's face. CHAPTER XV SERVICE OF JOY It was not often that Eileen Trevis, who was manifestly born for business, waxed hysterically enthusiastic. And so one morning a few days later, when an incoherent summons came from her over the telephone, Eveley was astonished almost to the point of speechlessness. "What is it?" she gasped. "What has happened? Is it bad news?" "Good, good, good," exulted Eileen. "Wonderful, delicious, thrilling. Please hurry. It is nearly lunch-time, isn't it? I have been trying to get you all morning,--come quickly.--Never mind about your luncheon.--Are you coming?" "I am on the way," shouted Eveley, crashing the receiver on to its hook, and flying with scant ceremony from the office, hoping it was truly the luncheon hour, but scorning to waste the time to look. "She is in love," she said aloud as she ran down the stairs, spurning a tardy elevator. "She is in love, and she is engaged, or maybe she has eloped and is already married. Eileen Trevis,--of all people in the world. Whoever would have thought it?" Only the absence of traffic officers in that part of the city kept Eveley from arrest that day, and only the protection of Heaven itself saved her from total wreckage, for she spun around corners, and dodged traffic warts at a rate that was positively neck-breaking. The last block before she reached Eileen's home was one long coast, and she drew up sharply with a triumphant honk. Eileen was on the steps before she had time to turn off the engine. "Is it a husband?" cried Eveley. "No, babies," chortled Eileen. Eveley put her fingers over her lips, and swallowed painfully. "It isn't your turn," she said disapprovingly. "You have to do these things in proper order. You can't run backward. It isn't being done." "Don't be silly," said Eileen. "Hop out, and come in. I am having a nursery made out of the maid's bedroom that has never been used. It is perfectly dear, with blue Red-Riding-Hoods, and blue wolves and blue Jacks-and-Jills on a white background." "There is something wrong about this," said Eveley solemnly, as she followed Eileen into the house, and up the two flights of stairs to her apartment. "It is Ida's babies, stupid," explained Eileen at last. "I am to have them after all. Poor Jim's sister is ill, and I must say, it almost serves her right,--she was so snippy about the children." "Oh, Ida's babies! And has the Aunt-on-the-Other-Side-of-the-House had a change of heart?"