"There, mademoiselle, on your dresser. But if I might----" "You mayn't do anything except to get out and stay out! Do you hear? Shall I never be obeyed?" "Yes, mademoiselle; good-night." The soft tone was fully belied by the evil glare of the French girl's eyes, but that was not seen by Miss Lucy Carrington. III THE TRAGEDY The house faced the east, and, built on an English model, was far wider than deep. A broad hall ran through the centre from front to back, and on either side there were successive rooms whose windows looked out on equally beautiful scenes, both front and back. On the right of the hall, as one entered, was the long living room, and beyond it, the library and music room. The other side of the hall was a reception room, opening into the sun parlor, and on to the conservatory, and back of these, the dining room and smaller breakfast room. Breakfast was served at nine, and the members of the family were usually all present. Miss Carrington, herself, made a point of being on time partly from habit, and also because it gave her opportunity to chide those who were late. When she was not in her place, on the morning after the stormy bridge game, Pauline expressed surprise, and Haviland echoed her words. But Anita said scornfully, "She went to bed in an awful tantrum and probably didn't sleep well." Miss Frayne was looking her prettiest, and her roseleaf face with its fluffy golden halo, was like a Greuze picture. She wore a frivolous little house gown of blue crêpe de chine that just matched her forget-me-not eyes. Not especially appropriate garb for a secretary, but Miss Carrington preferred her household to be well-dressed, and really commanded pretty tints and fabrics for the two girls. Pauline was in white serge, of rather severe cut, but which suited her as no frills and flounces could. Her black hair was smoothly parted and coiled low over her ears, and her clear ivory-tinted skin was flushed faintly pink from the glow of the big, crackling wood fire. "It's most unusual," went on Pauline, after a few moments more had passed, and the Lady Lucy had not appeared. "I'm going up to see if she is ill,--or----" "Or merely in a tantrum extraordinary!" said Anita, her blue eyes full of laughing disrespect for her employer. "'Nita," said Haviland, as Pauline disappeared, "hold your breakfast napkin up in front of your face, quick!" "Why?" said the girl, wonderingly, as she did his bidding. "Because, if you hadn't, I should have flown at you and kissed you! And I mustn't now, for Haskins is approaching with muffins." Down came the shielding napkin and only the arrival of the muffin-laden Haskins saved the lovely laughing face from Haviland's impetuous caress. The old butler fussed about, and several minutes passed, when Pauline called from above stairs, "Gray! Come here, at once!"