"If that is the alternative," Rachel answered, returning the smile with an affectionate look of a sort which neither Louis Lockwood nor Stevens Cathcart nor Dr. Roger Barnes had ever seen on her face--though they had dreamed of it--"of course I shall stay. But I'll tell you frankly I would rather not." "Why not, Rachel?" "I think you know why not, Mrs. Robeson," Rachel answered. "Yes, I know why not," admitted Juliet. "Girls are queer things, Ray. They defeat their own ends all the time--lots of them. Suzanne and Marie are dear girls, with ever so many nice things about them, but they don't--they don't know enough not to pursue, chase, run down, the object of their desires. And, of course, the object, being run down panting, into a corner, dodges, evades, gets out and runs away. Rachel, dear, what are you going to wear to-night?" "My best frock," said Rachel, smiling. "Which is----" "White." "Cut out at the neck?" "A little." "Short in the sleeves?" "To the elbows. It was my sophomore evening dress." "It will be all right, I know. Rachel, wear a white rose in those low black braids of yours--will you?" "No, I think I won't," refused Rachel. "Why not?" Rachel did not answer. Into her cool cheek crept a tinge of rebellious, telltale colour. Juliet studied her a minute in silence, then came up to her and laying both hands on her shoulders looked up into her eyes. "You try to 'play fair,' don't you, dear?" she said heartily, "whatever the rest may do. And whatever they may do, Rachel Redding, don't you care. It's not your fault that they are as jealous of you as girls can be and keep sweet outside. I'd be jealous of you myself if----" She paused, laughing. "When you grow jealous," said Rachel, "it will be because you have grown blind. If anybody ever wore his heart on his sleeve--no, not there--but beating sturdily in the right place for one woman in the world it's----" "Right you are," said Anthony Robeson, coming up behind them, "and I hope you may convince her of it. She has no confidence in her own powers." Rachel stood looking at them a moment, her dark eyes very bright. "To see you two," she said slowly at length, "is to believe it all." The evening promised to be a gay one. The men of the party had sent to town for many lanterns, flags and decorations of the sort, and had made the porch and lawn the setting for a brilliant scene. A dozen young people had been asked out, and came enthusiastically. "We'll wind up with a flourish," said Anthony in his wife's ear as they descended the stairs together, "and then we'll send them all off to-morrow where they'll cease from troubling. I think it was the best plan in the world, but I'll be glad to prowl about my beloved home without observing Cathcart scowling at Lockwood, Roger Barnes evading Suzanne, or even my good boy Wayne with that eternal wonder on his face as to why his flat does not look like our Eden."