Fancy, pulling her jacket behind, wriggling, and smoothing down her skirt over her hips, walked to the window and cast a glance out. Then she slammed the drawers of her desk, put a hair-pin between the leaves of her novel, straightened her pen-holders on the stand, stoppered a red-ink bottle, and marched out without looking to the left or to the right. Madam Spoll glared at her in silence till she had gone; and then, with an agility extraordinary in so stout a woman, she sprang to the closet, opened the door and picked up an envelope lying on the floor. It had been opened. She took the letter out, gave it a hurried glance and then returned to her seat, stuffing the paper up under her basque. The letter was short enough for her practised eye to master the contents almost at a glance. It ran: My dear Mr. Granthope:—I hope you didn’t take offense at my frankness the other day—if I was too candid don’t misinterpret it and my interest in you. Sometime I may explain it more intelligently, but for the present believe me to be, Your friend, CLYTIE PAYSON. Granthope came out after she had concealed the note. He was fully dressed and almost unrecognizable in his costume. He walked gracefully, with the light-footed stride of a mandarin, and saluted her with mock gravity. Madam Spoll stared at him with her mouth open. For a moment she did not appear to know him. Then she chuckled. "For the land’s sakes, what are you up to now, Frank? Doing the Chinese doctor’s stunt and selling powdered sea-horses?" He laughed at her surprise. "No, I’m doing society," he explained. "Do ’em good, then! Lord, you are a-butting in this time, ain’t you! I wouldn’t know you from a Sam Yup highbinder on a Chiny New Year in that rig! What is it, a fancy-dress ball at the Mechanics’ Pavilion?" "Worse than that," he laughed; "this is a private supper-party in costume and I am a guest." "Lord, you are getting on, for fair! You ain’t been conning them swell girls for nothing, have you? And, to be frank with you, I always thought you was after something very different. I was kind of afraid they’d spoil you, too. It’s a good graft, Frank, and if I can do anything to give you a lift, just say the word." "Thanks," he said dryly, taking a seat in front of her and pulling his long sleeves up to his wrist. She kept her eyes upon him, as if fascinated by the gorgeousness of his costume, seemingly a little in fear of his elegant manners as well. Then she broke out, pettishly: "Say, Fancy’s getting pretty fresh, seems to me. She’s a very different girl from what she was when she used to play spook for us. She was glad enough once to be polite—butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth them days!" "Oh, you mustn’t mind Fancy; she’s all right when you get used to her." "She’s pretty, if she is sassy," the medium acknowledged. "I can hardly blame you, Frank. I s’pose you find a good use for her. She seems to be pretty fond of you."