"And the fun was, Ju," said Mrs. Arbuthnot, girlishly, with bright color in her cheeks, "that when Jim came there to give two lectures, you know, all the older girls were crazy about him--and he was ten years older than I, you know, and I never DREAMED--" "Oh, you go to, Ann! You never DREAMED!" said Miss Ives, lazily. "Honestly, I didn't!" Mrs. Arbuthnot protested. "I remember my brother Billy saying, 'Babs, you don't think Dr. Arbuthnot is coming here to see ME, do you?' and then it all came over me! Why, I was only eighteen." "And engaged to Billy's chum," said the doctor. "Well," said the wife, naively, "he knew all along it wasn't serious." "You must have been a rose," said Miss Ives, "and I would have hated you! Now, when I went to dances," she pursued half seriously, "I sat in one place and smiled fixedly, and watched the other girls dance. Or I talked with great animation to the chaperons. Ann, I've felt sometimes that I would gladly die, to have the boys crowd around me just once, and grab my card and scribble their names all over it. I didn't dress very well, or dance very well--and I never could talk to boys." She began to trace a little watercourse in the sand with an exquisite finger tip. "I was the most unhappy girl on earth, I think! I felt every birthday was a separate insult--twenty, and twenty-two, and twenty-four! We were poor, and life was--oh, not dramatic or big!--but just petty and sordid. I used to rage because the dining-room was the only place for the sewing-machine, and rage because my bedroom was really a back parlor. Well!--I joined a theatrical company--came away. And many a night, tired out and discouraged, I've cried myself to sleep because I'd never have any girlhood again!" She stopped with a half-apologetic laugh. The doctor was watching her with absorbed, bright eyes. Mrs. Arbuthnot, unable to imagine youth without joy and beauty, protested: "Julie--I don't believe you--you're exaggerating! Do you mean you didn't go on the stage until you were twenty-four!" "I was twenty-six. I was leading lady my second season, and starred my third," said the actress, without enthusiasm. "I was starred in 'The Jack of Clubs.' It ran a season in New York and gave me my start. Lud, how tired we all got of it!" "And then I hope you went back home, Ju, and were lionized," said the other woman, vigorously. "Oh, not then! No, I'd been meaning to go--and meaning to go--all those three years. The little sisters used to write me--such forlorn little letters!--and mother, too--but I couldn't manage it. And then--the very night 'Jack' played the three hundredth time, as it happened--I had this long wire from Sally and Beth. Mother was very ill, wanted me--they'd meet a certain train, they were counting the hours--" Miss Ives demolished her watercourse with a single sweep of her palm. There was a short silence.