New York; and she liked that; she should have hated him if he had. "Have you got that little Manet, yet?" Mr. Plaisdell broke in upon them. "I was telling Miss Maybough about it." "Yes," said Ludlow. "It's at my place. Why won't Miss Maybough and Miss Saunders come and see it? You'll come, won't you, Miss Maybough?" "If mamma will let me," said Charmian, meekly. "Of course! Suppose we go ask her?" The friends of Mrs. Maybough had now reduced themselves to Wetmore, who sat beside her, looking over at the little tea-table group. Ludlow led the rest toward her. "What an imprudence," he called out, "when I'd just been booming you! Now you come up in person to spoil everything." Ludlow presented his petition, and Mrs. Maybough received it with her provisional anxiety till he named the day for the visit. She said she had an engagement for Saturday afternoon, and Ludlow ventured, "Then perhaps you'd let the young ladies come with a friend of mine: Mrs. Westley. She'll be glad to call for them, I'm sure." "Mrs. General Westley?" "Yes." "We met them in Rome," said Mrs. Maybough. "I shall be very happy, indeed, for my daughter. But you know Miss Saunders--is not staying with us?" "Miss Saunders will be very happy for herself," said Charmian. The men took their leave, and Charmian seized the first moment to breathe in Cornelia's ear: "Oh, what luck! I didn't suppose he _would_ do it, when I got Mr. Plaisdell to hint about that Manet. And it's all for you. Now come into my room and tell me everything about it. You have got to stay for dinner." "No, no; I can't," Cornelia gasped. "And I'm not going to his studio. He asked me because he had to." "I should think he did _have_ to. He talked to you as if there was no one else here. How _did_ you meet him before? _When_ did you?" She could not wait for Cornelia to say, but broke out with fresh astonishment. "Why, Walter Ludlow! Do you know who Walter _Ludlow_ is? He's one of the greatest painters in New York. He's the greatest!" "Who is Mr. Wetmore?" Cornelia asked evasively. "Don't name him in the same century! He's grand, too! Does those little Meissonier things. He's going to paint mamma. She's one of his types. He must have brought Mr. Ludlow to see me. But he didn't. He saw nobody but you! Oh Cornelia!" She caught Cornelia in her arms. "Don't be a goose!" said Cornelia, struggling to get away. "Will you tell me all about it, then?" "Yes. But it isn't anything." At the end of the story Charmian sighed, "How romantic! Of course, he's simply in a frenzy till he sees you again. I don't believe he can live through the week." "He'll have to live through several," said Cornelia; "You can excuse me when you go. He's very conceited, and he talks to you as if he were a thousand years old. I think Mr. Plaisdell is a great deal nicer. He doesn't treat you as if you were--I don't know what!" XX.