Gray pretended to listen as the good woman babbled on, but he was thinking about the girl who had disappeared. He was surprised at the keenness of his chagrin. He had seen Miss Good but a short time, and she had made no effort whatever to excite his interest; nevertheless, she remained a tantalizingly vivid picture in his mind. It was extraordinary. So engrossed was he in his thoughts that he did not notice Allegheny Briskow until she stood close beside him. Then, indeed, he experienced a shock, for it was difficult to recognize in this handsome, modish young woman the awkward, ill-dressed country girl he had seen at noon. Allie was positively stunning. She was completely transformed from the soles of her well-shod feet to the tip of her French coiffure, and what was more astonishing, she had lost much of her self-consciousness and carried herself with a native grace that became her well. "Why, _Allie!_" Gray exclaimed. "You're wonderful! Let me see you." He stood off and gazed at her while she revolved before him. "Sakes alive! Who'd ever s'pose you'd look like _that!_" the mother exclaimed. "Miss Good told me I'd look nice, but I didn't believe her. Do I?" "You're wonderful, Allie." Gray said it with conviction. "Honest? You ain't laughin' at me?" The amazon's voice quavered. "Can't you see? Look at yourself. I'm proud of you." "I--She said--" Allegheny twisted her hands, she cast an appealing glance at her mother, but the latter was staring at her in open amazement, slowly nodding her head and clucking. "Tse! Tse! Tse!" It was an approving cluck, and it had a peculiar effect upon the girl. Allegheny's tears started, she turned suddenly and hid her face in her hands. Gray crossed quickly to her side, saying: "There! We've overdone it the first day, and you're tired." "I _ain't_ tired." His sympathy brought audible sobs; the girl's shoulders began to heave. "Well, _I_ am," the mother complained. "I'm wore to the bone. Allie! You dry up an' stop that snivelin' so we kin go home and I kin let my feet swell, an' scream." "You're not too tired, I hope, to have dinner with Allie and me in the big dining room at the Ajax?" Gray said, gayly. "You'll be all right after an hour's rest, and--'I want to show her off, if her nose isn't too red." "I 'ain't seen that girl cry in ten years," Ma declared, in mingled wonderment and irritation. "Why, she didn't cry when Number One blowed in." Allie spoke between her sobs. "There wasn't nothin' to cry for, then. But--Miss Good said I--I'd look jest as purty as other folks when I got fixed up. An' _he_ says--I do." Gray decided that all women are vain. Nevertheless, it surprised him to discover the trait so early in Allegheny Briskow.