Then the day came when they must leave the little frame house and after the excitement of getting extremely long railway tickets at the station and checking all Freda’s luggage through to New York, they said good-by to the Thorstads and left them standing together, incongruous even in their farewells to their daughter. They were to stop at St. Pierre over night. Mrs. Flandon had written to urge them to do so and Freda would not have refused, if she had been inclined to, bearing the sense of her obligation to them. She had not told her father of that. It amused her to think that her father and Gregory each felt the other responsible for those Fortunatus strings of railway ticket. But she wanted Gregory to meet the Flandons again that the debt might be more explainable later on. St. Pierre was familiar this time when they entered it in mid-afternoon as she had on that first arrival with her mother. It was pleasant to see Mrs. Flandon again and to taste just for a moment the comfortable luxury of the Flandon house. Freda felt in Mrs. Flandon a warmth of friendliness which made it easy to speak of the money and assure her of Gregory’s ability to pay it a little later. “You’re not to bother,” said Helen, “until you’re quite ready. We were more glad to send it than I can tell you. It’s a hostage to fortune for us.” Then she changed the subject quickly. “I wonder if you’ll mind that I asked a few people for dinner to-night. You married a celebrity and you want to get used to it. So many people were interested in the news item about your marriage and wanted to meet Gregory and you. I warned them not to dress so that’s all right.” “It’s very nice,” said Freda, “I’ll enjoy it and I think--though I never dare to speak for Gregory--that he will too. I remember having a beautiful time at dinner here before. When I was here visiting the Brownleys you asked me--do you remember?” “I asked the Brownleys to-night. They were in town--all but Allie. I asked the elder two and Bob and her young man--Ted Smillie, you know.” She looked at Freda a little quizzically and Freda looked back, wondering how much she knew. “Think they’ll want to meet me?” she asked straight-forwardly. “I do, very much. I think it’s better, Freda, just to put an end to any silly talk. It may not matter to you but you know I liked your father so much and it occurred to me that it might matter to him if any untrue gossip were not killed. And it’s so very easy to kill it.” “You take a great deal of trouble for me,” protested Freda. Helen hesitated. She was on the verge of greater confidence and decided against it. “Let me do as I please then, will you?” she said smilingly and Freda agreed. Helen felt a little dishonest about it. The dinner was another hostage to fortune. It was gathering up the loose ends neatly--it was brushing out of sight bits of unsightly thought--establishing a basis which would enable her later to do other things.