But Alla had no thought of Chick's insincerity. "That is it," she said. "We use our souls for everything, even physical processes. One of our geniuses is inventing a dance for Miss Fairfield. Appreciating her genius for dancing, he is making a masterpiece in which she can dance with her soul----" "Put her whole sole in her dancing," said Chick, with enough emphasis to point his jest. "Yes," went on Alla, unmoved, though Mr. Fairfield nearly choked as he watched her intent face, "just that. Unless one does use one's soul it becomes rusted and useless." Her face was drawn with intensity, her lifted hand shook a long slender forefinger at Chick, and that urbane young man had just about all he could do to preserve his gravity. But he went calmly on. "Do you know," he said, "I sometimes think my soul is a bit rusty." "Very likely," said Sam Blaney, who didn't like to be long out of the conversation. "Suppose you join our coterie and get the rust removed. Nor am I joking, Mr. Channing. Many there be who laugh at our earnestness, but only because of their own ignorance." "I dare say that is so," put in Fred Fairfield, in sincere tones; "that's why I'm specially interested in knowing just what you do to tinker up a rusty soul. Pardon my rude diction, but I am not aesthetic myself. However, I am deeply interested." "I feel sure you are, Mr. Fairfield," and Alla gave him a soulful glance; "and though it is not easy I will try to give you a hint of our methods." "Let me tell him, Alla," insisted Sam, and he waved her to silence with a gesture of his long, white hand. "You see, sir, it is not often we meet such a receptive nature as you kindly show, and I am but too glad to gratify your most justifiable curiosity and Interest." "Me, too," cried Chick. "Pray don't leave me out. I truly want to know what will clean the rust off my soul." Again Patty besought him by urgent glances to beware of offending her guests, but Chick shook his head, indicating there was no danger. Nor was there. Though Mr. Fairfield and Channing both were consumed with merriment at the idea of their rusty souls, the Blaneys were quite in earnest and proceeded to dilate on their favourite subjects. "Once under the influence of our atmosphere and our beliefs," avowed Blaney, "your soul expands and flowers out like a star!" "Oh, how beautiful!" breathed Chick, with such a rapt expression, that Patty had to put up her napkin quickly to hide her smile. "Yes," said Alla, "my brother says wonderful things. His own soul is ineffably sweet." "It must be!" and Chick looked at Blaney with an adoring gaze that nearly sent Nan into convulsions. Patty was scared, for if Chick kept this up the Blaneys must realise his intent and would be mortally offended. "How near Christmas is getting," she interrupted, blithely, determined to change the subject. "Have you all your gifts ready, Alla?"