"If I were you, I wouldn't say a word! Not--one--blessed--word! I'd pique curiosity. There! That _is_ treason! Why, I'd give my eye teeth, 'most, for a nice signed statement. But I'll wait--that is, if you really, honest-Injun, prefer." "You're very kind," said Aunt Frank, with a sigh of bewildered relief. "We'd give anything, of course--_anything_!--to avoid--" "Mind," Cadge admonished me as she rose to go. "I'm running big risks, letting you off; the office relied on me. If you do talk to anybody else, or even see anybody, you'll let me know, quick? And if you don't want to give up, look out for a little fat girl with blue eyes and a baby stare; she'll be here sure, crying for pictures; generally gets 'em, first time, too. Snuffles and dabs her eyes and says: 'If I go back without any photograph, I'll lose my j-o-o-o-b! Wa-a-a-h! Wa-a-a-h! until you do anything to get rid of her. Ought to be on the stage; tears in her voice. I wouldn't do stunts like that, if I never--you will look out, won't you?" Aunt is so funny, not to have guessed who wrote the _Star_ article. But she never saw it. Her precautions had all been taken at John's officious suggestion over the telephone. Busybody! An interview is nothing so terrible. The world has a right to know about me; and I don't suppose Aunt had an idea how grievously Cadge was disappointed. No sooner had Cadge left us than Mr. Bellmer, pink and stammering in my presence, and after him the General, called to inquire for me. It was wonderful to see the change in the strong, self-confident girl's manner. She beamed at my appearance, and her every word was caressing and deferential. The night before had had a magical effect. I was no longer "Diane," the ingenue whom she patronized as well as admired. I was a powerful woman, a great lady. "Did our Princess enjoy waking this morning to find herself famous?" she asked, echoing Milly's word for me; and then, to Mrs. Baker's horror, she, too, had a tale to tell about reporters; they had been besetting her for information about her companion of the Opera. "But I never see people of that sort, you know," she said, with an accent that piqued me, though I couldn't help feeling glad that Cadge had gone. She showered me with messages from Mrs. Marmaduke Van Dam and from Peggy and Mrs. Henry. She had a dozen plans for my entertainment, but Mrs. Baker opposed a flurried negative:-- "We'll run no more risks like last night's; Nelly must stay at home--till folks get used to her." "Then I can never go anywhere; never!" I cried in despair, yet laughing. It's impossible sometimes not to laugh at Aunt. But Mrs. Van Dam gave me a look that promised many things. "You won't be left in hiding after such a début; you'll electrify society!" she said; and when she had gone, I wore away the day wondering what she meant, until I could send for the afternoon papers.