The rest of us had forgotten all about Miss Arling’s connection with Peter, and had grown so used to the big photograph of the big, handsome woman that we did not see it any more, when one morning I found Flossie waiting for me as I came downstairs. She was very pale, with dark circles under her eyes. She was holding a newspaper in her clenched hand--the New York newspaper they had always taken on account of its full, gossipy “Happenings in the World of Art” column. Flossie opened it to that column now, and read in a dry voice: “American art lovers are promised a treat in the visit of the famous Eleanor Arling who arrives on the _Mauretania_. Miss Arling plans an extensive trip in her native country from which she has been absent for many years. She will visit New York, Pittsburgh, Chicago, Denver and San Francisco. Her keen artistic memory is shown by her intention of breaking her trip for a few days at ...” Flossie’s voice broke.... “She’s coming _here_!” she gasped. Then collecting herself, she continued reading, “Miss Arling told our interviewer that she once passed some weeks there and remembers with pleasure a composition of cliff, water, and pine trees. She wishes to see it again.” “Cliff, water, and pine trees,” repeated Flossie, her eyes blazing. “Of course _we_ know it is nothing in the way of a _landscape_ she is coming to see here!” I saw that her little fists were clenched. “I won’t stand it!” she cried, “I won’t stand it!” But she looked horribly frightened all the same. “What can you do?” I asked, sympathizing painfully with the poor little thing. “I shall go to her the minute she reaches town.” This threw me into a panic, “What good would _that_ do?” I cried, alarmed at the prospect of scenes and goings-on. “I don’t know! I don’t know! If I see her, I can think of some way to make her go away and not ...” she said wildly. I hoped devoutly that she would settle down from this hysterical state of unreason, but three days after this she darted in, her face pinched, and told me that the time was now, and that she wanted me to be with her.... “I must have _some_body there,” she said piteously. I was thoroughly alarmed, protested, tried desperately to back out, but found myself in Flossie’s car driving at a dangerous rate of speed towards Miss Arling’s hotel.