“I’ll have to be it, much as I hate to,” Vera presently mourned her tone particularly despairing. “What is it you must be? Nothing your Celtic friend can save you from,” was Leila’s solicitous but rash promise. “A time clock,” sighed Vera. “I’m the only one of this fivesome who has any idea of the value of time. If we don’t start for the Arms soon it may be Miss Susanna’s bedtime before we arrive there.” “You must go with us, Kathie,” declared Marjorie. “The more Travelers, the merrier. We’re five of the old crowd, and I think it’s great to have even that number together again.” “Of course I’ll go. You don’t think I’d let you run off to the Arms without me, do you?” Kathie’s eyes sparkled with the gaiety of the occasion. “We’d never do that; never-r-r!” Vera assured with a dramatic roll of “r.” “You must have known what Robin and I did not know until this afternoon,” Marjorie said happily. “When were you at the Arms last, Kathie?” “Last Tuesday afternoon to tea. Yes, I knew.” Kathie flashed Marjorie a radiant look. “I was so glad. It was splendid in her.” Before Marjorie could reply Vera called out a second warning. “Shoo, shoo, shoo!” she cried, whisking in and out among her chums and relentlessly driving them toward the dining room door. Laughing, Miss Remson strolled after the fleeing, giggling girls. The little manager was about to call a last word to the party as they began to descend the steps when the purr of an approaching automobile brought all eyes to bear upon it. One of the railway station taxicabs was now coming to a stop before the Hall. The instant it stopped the driver sprang from it to open the tonneau door. Next a girl in a silver gray dust coat and close-lined gray hat which suggested Paris emerged from the machine. She cast a slow unhurried glance toward the group on the veranda, then turned toward the driver in leisurely fashion and addressed him. He dived into the tonneau, reappearing with a large leather label-spattered bag. The new arrival handed him his fare with the barest glance at him. He picked up the bag and started with it toward the veranda. She followed him, wearing an expression of such utter boredom it impressed itself upon the knot of girls to whom she was a stranger. One other point also impressed them. That point was her unusual beauty. It seemed to Marjorie that she had never seen a girl so beautiful, and in such an unusual way. Her thick fine hair was like pale spun gold as it showed itself from under her small hat. Her skin was dazzling in its purity. Her eyes reminded Marjorie of the sea on a calm day. Only she could not be sure whether they were blue or green. Her features were not small but were admirably regular. She carried herself with the lovely, indifferent grace of a princess. Into Marjorie’s fanciful mind suddenly popped the old-time fairy-tale beginning: “Once upon a time there was a lovely princess.” “Now whom have we here?” muttered Leila in Marjorie’s ear.