"Ladies?" he asked, raising his brows. "You appear to be a little social favorite; couldn't you get me in on something? How about dinner?" "I am myself entertaining at dinner; and your name isn't on the list, I'm sorry to say, Buttons. But to-morrow! Everything will be possible to-morrow. I expect Miss Pat and Helen here to-night. It's Miss Pat's birthday, and I want to make it a happy day for her. She's going to settle with Henry as soon as some preliminaries are arranged, so the war's nearly over." "She can't settle with him until something definite is known about Arthur. If he's really dead--" "I've promised to settle that; but I must hurry now. Will you meet me at the Glenarm boat-house at eight? If I'm not there; wait. I shall have something for you to do." "Meanwhile I'm turned out of your house, am I? But I positively decline to go until I'm fed." As I got into a fresh coat he played a lively tune on the electric bell, and I left him giving his orders to the butler. I was reassured by the sound of voices as I passed under the windows of St. Agatha's, and Sister Margaret met me in the hall with a smiling face. "Luncheon waits. We will go out at once. Everything has passed off smoothly, perfectly." I did not dare look at Rosalind until we were seated in the dining-room. Her sweet peas graced the center of the round table, and Sister Margaret had placed them in a tall vase so that Rosalind was well screened from her aunt's direct gaze. The Sister had managed admirably. Rosalind's hair was swept up in exactly Helen's pompadour; and in one of Helen's white gowns, with Helen's own particular shade of scarlet ribbon at her throat and waist, the resemblance was even more complete than I had thought it before. But we were cast at once upon deep waters. "Helen, where did you find that article on Charles Lamb you read the other evening? I have looked for it everywhere." Rosalind took rather more time than was necessary to help herself to the asparagus, and my heart sank; but Sister Margaret promptly saved the day. "It was in the _Round World_. That article we were reading on The Authorship of the Collects is in the same number." "Yes; of course," said Rosalind, turning to me. Art seemed a safe topic; and I steered for the open, and spoke in a large way, out of my ignorance, of Michelangelo's influence, winding up presently with a suggestion that Miss Pat should have her portrait painted. This was a successful stroke, for we all fell into a discussion of contemporaneous portrait painters about whom Sister Margaret fortunately knew something; but a cold chill went down my back a moment later when Miss Pat turned upon Rosalind and asked her a direct question: "Helen, what was the name of the artist who did that miniature of your mother?" Sister Margaret swallowed a glass of water, and I stooped to pick up my napkin. "Van Arsdel, wasn't it?" asked Rosalind instantly.