“My sweet children,” Lissa began in her cloying voice, “to think I find you both here ... and this is Thurley? What a dear! I know all about you, because Mr. Hobart speaks of no one else with the same enthusiasm. Of course I never hope to be called in as a consulting teacher—dear no,” here she gave a snarly little laugh, “I’m considered a real villainness by certain persons. But I shall be fairy godmother anyway—there always is an unasked fairy at the christening, you remember! This is Mark Wirth—” a sweep of her white, jewelled hand intimated the handsome chap with burnished gold hair and eyes as blue as Thurley’s. Two things about Mark saved him from being merely an Adonis—his long forehead, the forehead of a man who often complains of being persecuted because of his tenacity to prove his point, and the astute expression of his eyes. “Sit down, every one. I am just back from tour myself—well, what are your hopes and fears?” Ernestine let Lissa take the center of the stage. “Mark isn’t going on tour, I can’t spare him,” here another snarly laugh. Thurley fancied Mark Wirth flushed with annoyance. “Oh, Mark, when you have such bully chances!” Ernestine protested. “I can stay in town as well—do let’s talk of some one else,” he said. “I want Mark to stop Grecian dancing, there is no definite future in it now débutantes have taken it up”—her artificially shaped eyebrows lifting as a danger signal—“and make a specialty of ballroom dancing—” Ernestine held up her hand. “God forbid,” she said reverently. “I saw Mark dance in the Harvard Stadium—please let him continue to use his brains as well as his feet.” “There’s room for a difference of opinion. For myself, my classes promise to be large this season—and I’ve wonderful frocks. I’ve reopened the Hotel Particular and tried to get Collin or Caleb on the ’phone but their men say they are not about. I only saw Bliss by accident,” she gave a side glance at Thurley, “it was then I learned about you!” “Is the Hotel Particular as smart as ever?” Ernestine hastened to ask. “I’ve had no end of things done to it. Come and see. Which you never do. Isn’t it strange, Miss Precore, I pay five calls to this person’s begrudged one?” and Lissa smiled in her most disagreeable fashion. Ernestine tried to smooth over the accusation by praising Lissa’s frock. “Mark played rouge-et-noir at Monte Carlo and I won a winter’s wardrobe,” Lissa boasted.