He bade her take her time and sought a table covered with magazines in three languages which gave to her library a rather club-like air. Mrs. Blair believed in self-culture and practised it _à la carte_, not overlooking the hors d’œuvres and desserts. He lighted a cigarette and turned over the periodicals until he found one that interested him. The murmur of voices reached him from the room across the hall; and he argued that the caller was no one he knew, or he should have been asked to come in and speak to her, such being Mrs. Blair’s way. In a few minutes she carried the conversation to what appeared from her tone to be a satisfactory conclusion. It had grown dark and a servant brightened the hall and adjoining rooms with the mild electric glow that was Mrs. Blair’s ideal of house lighting. Wayne, lifting his eyes at the soft flooding of his page, saw that his sister’s caller was the girl he had met in the art gallery. Her long coat made her appear taller as she stood against the background of the reception room portières. She was laughing happily at some remark of Mrs. Blair’s. She murmured something that did not reach him, but Mrs. Blair caught her hands exclaiming: “Don’t trouble about it; it will soon begin to come easier. You are going to do something really worth while; remember, I have faith in you and you’re bound to arrive. No one ever disappoints me!” “I certainly hope I shan’t be a disappointment to you, Mrs. Blair. I can never thank you enough for what you are doing for me.” As the outer door closed, Mrs. Blair appeared before Wayne. “Well, what are they saying? Is the male population taking it calmly? Is there rebellion anywhere?” Wayne tossed his magazine aside as his sister bent over and kissed him. She curled up in a big chair, while he brought his mind to bear upon her question. “My dear Fanny, why do you ask anything so preposterous? Do you suppose anybody is going to tell our father that he ought to consider well the seriousness of a second marriage, his duty to his children, his duty to their mother and all that kind of rot? Not on your life, my dearest sister! Nor is our father’s pastor going to ask him for the credentials of the lady he proposes to honour. Everybody downtown is delighted. He got a jolly from every man he saw at the Club to-day where, by the way, I was taken to show our delight in the prospect of seeing a new face at the ancestral dinner table. So much for us males; how about the women? Are there any signs of revolt? I met Dick’s mother a while ago, and she had her knife sharpened.” “Many people are still away, but my telephone has rung all day and the town’s buzzing.” “It’s a good thing for the town to have something that it can concentrate on for a few days. Dick Wingfield says the trouble with us here is our lack of social unification. Our approaching stepmother’s advent may have the effect of concentrating social influences.”