"This is the oracle of the Pythia," she said at last. "We will not commit ourselves to anything at the behest of Richard Percival. On my way to the station, now, in fact, Madeline and I will go to see this rose among cabbages. We will introduce ourselves as your friends, Dick. If we think you are a mere deluded male thing, there the matter ends. If we, too, are carried away by enthusiasm, we will invite her on the spur of the moment, and Mr. Lenox, who, like most married men, is a connoisseur in pretty girls, can talk to her. Will this suit you, Dick?" "Excellently," said Dick, "I know the result." "Then you'll come next Saturday? Madeline is coming day after to-morrow and I'll write to Mr. Norris. Heaven send these days of sun continue. Now if we are to pay this call, and I am to catch my train, we must be off." Miss Quincy, having quarreled with her mother over her extravagance in buying a feather boa with the proceeds of her last small check, was seated by the window, industriously concocting a new hat. The Swedish "girl", whose unfortunate fate it was to minister to the wants of Mrs. Olberg's lodgers, gave a kind of defiant pound on the door, opened it and thrust in a disheveled blond head, followed by a hand puckered from the dish-water. "Haar's cards, Miss Quincy," she said, "Dar's twa ladies down staars." She dropped the cards on the floor and disappeared. Lena, in great curiosity, picked them up and read aloud: "'Mrs. Francis Lenox; Miss Elton.'" "For the land's sake! Who air they?" asked her mother. "Two of the biggest swells in town." "Well, what on earth do they want here? We ain't very swell." "Perhaps they want me to report some party or something," said Lena. She was losing no time in giving her hair one or two becoming jerks and going through a series of wriggles meant to impart grace and style to her costume. "Perhaps they want to give you a million dollars," said Mrs. Quincy sarcastically. Lena, with heart burning with mingled shame at her own shabby surroundings, curiosity at their errand, and awe for the mighty names, entered the little parlor which gave the impression of never having been cleaned since it was born with its cheap worn plush furniture, its crayon portraits and its two vases of gaudy blue and gold. She faced the two ladies seated on the impossible chairs. Lena was almost as startling an apparition in that room as was Ram Juna's rose in the dusty phial--whether a miracle or a clever trick. She looked so untouched by any vulgarity in her surroundings, so fresh and true, so instinct with virgin dignity, that the eyes that met her own were filled with the tribute of surprise; and she exulted in some hidden corner of her soul. In the half-hour that they spent together she measured her new acquaintances carefully. "And these are women of the world!" she said to herself. "Why, they're boobies. I could do them up any time."