She was walking to Mrs. von Behrens's after an unusually harmonious luncheon with old Mrs. Melrose. This was one of Norma's happy times, and she almost danced in the crisp November air that promised snow even now. Leslie had asked her to come informally to tea; Annie had sent a message that she wished to see Norma; and Alice, who, like all invalids, had dark moods of which only her own household was aware, had been her nicest self for a week. Then Christopher was coming home to-night, and Norma had missed him for the three weeks he had been away, duck-shooting in the South, and liked the thought that he was homeward bound. She found Leslie with Annie to-day, in Annie's big front bedroom. Leslie was in a big chair by the bed where Annie, with some chalky preparation pasted in strips on those portions of her face that were most inclined to wrinkle, was lying flat. Her hair, rubbed with oils and packed in tight bands, was entirely invisible, and over her arms, protruding from a gorgeous oriental wrap, loose chamois gloves were drawn. Annie had been to a luncheon, and was to appear at two teas, a dinner, and the theatre, and she was making the most of an interval at home. She looked indescribably hideous, as she stretched a friendly hand toward Norma, and nodded toward a chair. "Look at the child's colour--Heavens! what it is to be young," said Annie. "Sit down, Norma. How's Alice?" "Lovely!" Norma said, pulling off her gloves. "She had a wire from Chris, and he gets back to-night. I had luncheon with your mother, and I am to go to stay with her for two or three nights, anyway. But Aunt Alice said that she would like to have me back again next week for her two teas." "How old are you, Norma?" Annie asked, suddenly. Any sign of interest on her part always thrilled the girl, who answered, flushing: "Nineteen; twenty in January, Aunt Annie." "I'm thinking, if you'd like it, of giving you a little tea here next month," Annie said, lazily. "You know quite enough of the youngsters now to have a thoroughly nice time, and afterward we'll have a dinner here, and they can dance!" "Oh, Aunt Annie--if I'd like it!" Norma exclaimed, rosy with pleasure. "You would?" Annie asked, looking at a hand from which she had drawn the glove, and smiling slightly. "It means that you don't go anywhere in the meantime. You're not out until then, you know!" "Oh, but I won't be going anywhere, anyway," Norma conceded, contentedly. "You'll have a flood of invitations fast enough after the tea," Annie assured her, pleased at her excitement, "and until then, you can simply say that you are not going out yet." "Chris said he might take me to the opera on the first night; I've never been," Norma said, timidly. "But I can explain to him!" "Oh, that won't count!" Annie assured her, carelessly. "We'll all be there, of course! Have you worn the corn-coloured gown yet?" "Oh, no, Aunt Annie!"