"So you have a rival in your sweetheart's affections," Miss Mays whispered mischievously, linking her arm in that of Daisy's as they sauntered through the hall. "The glances are something wonderful, beseeching. If the eyes hadn't that dull, leady look they might prove dangerous in years to come, but I doubt if young men will be drawn near enough to experience their fascination. But she gains a little every day, and you will soon lose your Helen of Troy." "Helen of Troy is a free agent. She can make friends wherever she will," was the rather curt answer. "But 'life is thorny and love is vain,'" quoted Roxy. "I _do_ wonder at Helen Grant's taste." There were lessons and exercises and Helen found her mind wandering, having to bring it back by sharp turns. Daisy was very distant. "Oh, how foolish girls can be!" Helen thought. When they went in to luncheon a surprise greeted most of the girls. Helen Grant saw the vacant seat beside her. One of the girls opposite touched elbows with the other and both glanced at the end of the room. Helen let her eyes wander down leisurely. Next to Mrs. Aldred sat a stranger, next to her Miss Craven, more timid than ever. The stranger was elegant and airy. Her cloth gown was of the newest shade of green, the small bolero covered with iridescent embroidery, the satin bosom a few shades lighter, sown here and there with beads in colors that sparkled like gems. A very pretty, stylish-looking woman of five and thirty perhaps. She wore two magnificent diamond rings and a small star at her throat. The most critical taste could not pronounce her loud. Helen thought rapidly. Was that Mrs. Howard? She felt rather disappointed. Everybody went on with the luncheon and when it was through, Mrs. Aldred, the guest, and Miss Bigelow retired to the drawing room. What did it all mean? They heard presently. The lady was Mrs. Davis, the wife of Miss Craven's guardian. Just as Morris had answered the door, Miss Bigelow crossed the hall and recognized a lady she had seen a good deal of in the summer. "Why this _is_ delightful to meet a familiar face," declared the stranger. "Is this where you are at school? We have a _protégée_ here, at least Mr. Davis is guardian and trustee of a young woman and no end of money, Miss Craven, do you know her?" Morris was trying to usher the guest into the reception room. "Yes, she is here," and Miss Bigelow did the honors; begged Mrs. Davis to be seated. Morris came back with the word that Mrs. Aldred would be at liberty in a few moments.