Alice seldom kissed anybody but she radiated kindly welcome. "Sit down, little Annie," she said, "I am glad you have come. My aunt and cousin have gone to New York and I have been alone all day. We would have tea and cake but _I_ know the hour of your Medes and Persians' supper approaches instead of my later dinner." "Yes," said Annie, sitting down, "and if I were to take tea and cake now, Alice, I could eat nothing and grandmother and my aunts are very particular about my clearing my plate." Alice laughed, but she looked rather solicitously at the girl. "I know," she said, then she hesitated. She pitied little Annie Eustace and considered her rather a victim of loving but mistaken tyranny. "I wish," she said, "that you would stay and dine with me to-night." Annie fairly gasped. "They expect me at home," she replied. "I know, and I suppose if I were to send over and tell them you would dine with me, it would not answer." Annie looked frightened. "I fear not, Alice. You see they would have had no time to think it over and decide." "Yes, I suppose so." "I have time to make you a little call and stop at the post-office for the last mail and get home just in time for supper." "Oh, well, you must come and dine with me a week from to-day, and I will have a little dinner-party," said Alice. "I will invite some nice people. We will have Mr. von Rosen for one." Annie suddenly flushed crimson. It occurred to her that Mr. von Rosen might walk home with her as he had done from Margaret's, and a longing and terror at once possessed her. Alice wondered at the blush. "I was so sorry for poor Margaret last night," Annie said with an abrupt change of subject. "Yes," said Alice. "That poor Western girl, talented as she is, must have been oddly brought up to be so very rude to her hostess," said Annie. "I dare say Western girls are brought up differently," said Alice. Annie was so intent with what she had to tell Alice that she did not realise the extreme evasiveness of the other's manner. "Alice," she said. "Well, little Annie Eustace?" Annie began, blushed, then hesitated. "I am going to tell you something. I have told Margaret. I have just told her this afternoon. I thought it might please her and comfort her after that terrible scene at her dinner last night, but nobody else knows except the publishers." "What is it?" asked Alice, regarding Annie with a little smile. "Nothing, only I wrote _The Poor Lady_," said Annie. "My dear Annie, I knew it all the time," said Alice. Annie stared at her. "How?"