"I was born lucky," he told them, and shook hands with Grace. To Miss Vandergilt he said, very seriously, "Are you Grace's friend?" "I'm more than that," answered Ethel; "I am the best friend she's got." "Then I am doubly lucky. I have a table, Ethel. I want you to be a witness to the miracle." There was no reason why he should call Miss Vandergilt by her first name. Even Ethel looked it. But H. R. merely said: "Take this chair, Grace. Ethel--here." "It seems to me--" began Grace, coldly. "Your friends are my friends. The miracle, Ethel, is that I've promised not to make love to Grace for a whole month--thirty days; forty-three thousand two hundred precious wasted minutes!" "Don't you sleep?" interjected Ethel, curiously. "My poor carcass does, but not my thoughts of her. Now let us eat and be miserable." It was a wonderful luncheon. H. R. let them do all the talking. He was at his coffee when Ethel mentioned her mother. "Ah, yes!" said H. R. "By the way, has Grace told her?" "Told her what?" Grace caught his eye and shook her head with a frown. "Very well, dear girl," he said to her. To Ethel he explained, "She doesn't wish me to tell you of her plan." "Oh, do! Please!" said Ethel, eagerly. "I'm in training for the position of her husband, Ethel," H. R. told her. "She says no--that's all; plain no!" "Grace, tell him to tell me!" said Ethel. "Shall I, Grace?" smiled H. R. Ethel looked at her and smiled. It made Grace so furious that she said: "I have no control over his speech." "Then, Ethel, it is only that Grace has a plan for a suffrage campaign that--well, it isn't for me to boast of her strategy; but it's a sure winner. I thought she would tell your mother." "It doesn't interest me," said Grace, very coldly, being hot within. "It will after you're married," observed Ethel, sagely. "That depends on whom I marry," said Grace, casually. "So it does," assented H. R., calmly. "I agree with Hendrik," said Ethel, more subtly personal than Grace thought necessary; so she pushed back her chair and took up her gloves. "Same table, same time--to-morrow?" H. R. said this to Grace so that Ethel could hear it. "No," said Grace. "Very well," he said, meekly. "I'll be here just the same--in case." She shook her head. Ethel, who was carefully not looking, saw her do it. Grace did not appear the next day, but Ethel did, properly accompanied by her own mother. They walked toward the northeast corner, on their way to a near-by table. H. R. rose and approached them. "Just in time," he said to them. "Thursday always was my lucky day." They sat down. To the waiter he said: "Tell the chef--for three; for me." "Yes, Mr. Rutgers," said the waiter, very deferentially. "What have you up your sleeve, Mrs. Vandergilt? And how near is victory?" "You mean--" "The Cause!" said H. R., reverently. "I never heard you express an opinion," said Mrs. Vandergilt, suspiciously.