"Yes, I know that's true with you, Cousin Caroline. But with me--what a joy! When you took me over with you that summer, we only did the watering-places. But now"--a note of ecstatic desire came into her voice, and she clasped her hands--"but now, to see Paris!--the Louvre!--the Luxembourg! It's the dream of my life!" Mrs. De Peyster again gave her cousin a suspicious look. "Olivetta, have you been allowing M. Dubois to pay you any more attention?" "No, no,--of course not," cried Olivetta, and a sudden color tinted the too-early autumn of her cheeks. "Do you think, after what you said--" "M. Dubois is a very good artist, but--" "I understand, Cousin Caroline," Olivetta put in hastily. "I think too much of your position to think of such a thing. Since you--since then--I have not spoken to him, and have only bowed to him once." "We will say no more about it," returned Mrs. De Peyster; and she kissed Olivetta with her duchess-like kindness. "By the by, my dear, your comb is on the floor." "So it is. It's always falling out." Olivetta picked it up, put it into place, and with nervous hands tried to press into order loose-flying locks of her rather scanty hair. Mrs. De Peyster arose; her worry about her missing son prompted her to seek the relief of movement. "I think I shall take a turn about the house to see that everything is being properly closed. Would you like to come with me?" Olivetta would; and, talking, they went together down the stairs. As they neared the ground floor, Matilda's voice arose to them, expostulating, protesting. "What can that be about?" wondered Mrs. De Peyster, and following the voice toward its source she stepped into her reception-room. Instantly there sprang up and stood before her a young man with the bland, smiling, excessively polite manner of a gentleman-brigand. And around her crowded five or six other figures. Matilda, pressing through them, glared at these invaders in helpless wrath, then at her mistress in guilty terror. "I--I did my best, ma'am. But they wouldn't go." And before punishment could fall she discreetly fled. "Pardon this seeming intrusion, Mrs. De Peyster," the foremost young man said rapidly, smoothly, appeasingly. "But we could not go, as you requested. The sailing of Mrs. De Peyster, under the attendant circumstances, is a piece of news of first importance; in fact, almost a national event. We simply had to see you. I trust you perceive and appreciate our professional predicament." Mrs. De Peyster was glaring at him with devastating majesty. "This--this is an outrage!" "Perhaps it may seem an outrage to you," said the young man swiftly, politely, and thoroughly undevastated. "But, really, it is only our duty. Our duty to our papers, and to the great reading public. And when newspaper men are doing their duty they must necessarily fail, to their great personal regret, in the observance of some of the nicer courtesies." Mrs. De Peyster was almost inarticulate.