Now she was in a back seat, Mrs. Parks said to me, when getting her room ready and wondering if she’d better change the rocker and toilet-set or not. When Rena was just Rena, a plain white bowl and pitcher were good enough for her, while Irene had the sprigged set. She had also a Boston rocker and white bed-spread, and Rena had a wooden rocker and pink-and-white spread, pieced and quilted herring-bone pattern by Mrs. Parks’ mother and valuable for its antiquity, but not first cut like the Marseilles, Mrs. Parks said. Now, the sprigged set was in Rena’s room with the Boston rocker and Marseilles spread and Irene had the herring-bone and wooden chair and white pitcher with a chip gone from its nose, and Beatrice Cenci was removed to her place over the mantel in the parlor. If Irene noticed the changes she gave no sign, and took her place gracefully as what Mrs. Parks called “second fiddle.” She arrived at four in the afternoon and immediately after tea which on her account was served at five she announced her intention to call at the McPherson place, if Rena would go with her. This was an ordeal from which Rena, who had not seen Rex, since his lovemaking, shrank; but if Irene went she must go too, and as Tom, who had stopped for supper at Mrs. Parks’, was to accompany them she felt that with them both it would be comparatively easy to meet him. As yet Irene had had but little chance to talk, but out in the field her tongue was loosened and she asked innumerable questions concerning Rex’s illness, with the air of one who had a right to know. It was Tom who answered the most of her questions, telling her first that Colin had covered up the well after he heard of Rex’s adventure and the broken mirror. “How did he know that?” Irene asked. “Did Mr. Travers tell of it?” “Why, no,” Tom answered. “Murder will out, you know, and Sam Walker was asleep behind some bushes and awoke just in time to see you scare Rex out of his wits and make him drop the glass into the well, and nearly fall in himself. You played the trick more successfully on him than I did on Rena.” Irene’s voice was very unsteady as she said: “Mr. Travers was frightened at something and fortunately I was there and caught him in time to keep him from falling. Did the fright bring on his fever? Surely he saw nothing.” “She is at her old tricks, as I knew she would be. I don’t want to quarrel with her.” Tom thought, “but by George, I’ll tell her the whole when I have a chance!” Irene did not ask any more questions. Something warned her that her influence over Reginald was probably gone. Still she would not abandon all hope. There might yet be a chance and nothing could have been more sympathetic than the expression of her face, or sweeter than her voice when she was admitted to his room. It was so late in the day that I had doubts about letting her see him, but when I told him she was there with Rena, he said very eagerly, “Let them come in.”