But the only vacant room in the house was one on the third floor front, and of this Queenie took possession, glad to escape for a time at least from the curious eyes which she felt were turned upon her. In all large hotels where the guests mingle freely together at table d’hote and in a common parlor, there is necessarily a good deal of gossip, and talk, and speculation with regard to strangers, especially if the latter chance to be at all out of the common order. And to this rule the St. James was not an exception. As Mrs. Strong had said, it had its cats, as what hotel has not? Idle, listless cats, who lead an aimless life, with nothing to do but scratch and tear each other, sometimes with claws unsheathed, but oftener with velvet paws and purring notes, and dark insinuations, which are far more dangerous, inasmuch as they cannot be met and combatted openly. Cliques, too, there were, the members of which, after criticising and talking each other up, turned their attention to any new-comers unfortunate enough to differ from the ordinary type of women, and Queenie was one of these. Everybody was interested in her. Everybody turned to look after her as she walked through the hall, or entered or left the dining-room, and many sought the books for information. But “Miss Hetherton, Merrivale, Mass.,” told them nothing definite of the dark-faced little girl in black, who sat apart from them all, with a strange expression in the brilliant eyes, which swept the room so often and so rapidly, and which had in them a far-off look of weariness and pain rather than any particular interest in what was passing around her. Then one of the ladies tried Pierre. But at the first alarm the old man conveniently forgot every word of English he had ever known, and jabbered in his native tongue so rapidly that his interlocutor turned from him in dismay and opened her batteries upon Axie, whom she encountered in the hall. But Axie, too, was non-committal, or mostly so. Miss Hetherton was French and had always lived in Paris until quite recently, when she came to Merrivale, the old home of her father, who died upon the voyage, leaving her alone. Magnolia Park, near Tallahassee, belonged to the Hetherton estates, and thither the young lady had come for a change of air and scene, but finding that the place was a good deal run down and needed some repairs, she had decided to spend a little time at the St. James while they were being made.