“Very busy just now; thee sees the season is in full swing, and she has little opportunity to come in, but I talk with her every day on the telephone.” “Have you seen Janet Fordyce recently,” with elaborate carelessness, helping himself to a pretzel. “She was here but yesterday, and inquired particularly----” Madame Yvonett stopped speaking as Minerva pulled back the hall portière and Representative J. Calhoun-Cooper walked into the room. “I fear you do not recall me, Madame Yvonett,” he said, as the Quakeress rose. “I am John Cooper, and I had the pleasure of calling upon you and your husband with my father years ago in Paris.” “Thee does my memory an injustice, Friend Cooper,” exclaimed Madame Yvonett cordially. “I have a very agreeable recollection of thy father and thyself. But I admit thee has changed somewhat in appearance since those days. Does thee know my cousin, Thomas Nichols?” “Oh, yes, the Captain and I are old acquaintances,” shaking hands with Tom as he spoke. “What has become of you lately? My wife and Pauline tell me you have not been near them.” “My duties at Myer have increased recently; courts-martial, and all that,” answered Tom, slightly embarrassed by the direct question. He had heard nothing further of his lost coin, and more than ever convinced that Joe had stolen it, he had kept away from the Calhoun-Coopers, disliking to accept their hospitality under the circumstances. “I hope your wife and daughter are both well,” he added hastily. “Very well, thanks.” Calhoun-Cooper sat down near Madame Yvonett, and declining the cup of tea offered him, began speaking of Paris, and the Quakeress, enchanted at the allusion to the city and life she had loved so well, recounted amusing experiences of her sojourn in the French capital. Tom took but little part in the conversation, and fidgeted uneasily. He was determined to find out from Madame Yvonett all that she could tell him about Janet, and waited with increasing impatience for Calhoun-Cooper to take his departure. But he found out-sitting the Representative a harder tax on his nervous system than he had bargained for. “Thee brings back happy memories,” said Madame Yvonett, with a half-sigh. “Must thee go?” as Calhoun-Cooper stood up, “I have enjoyed thy visit, friend; and if thee has an idle hour thee must come again.” “I will,” promised Calhoun-Cooper, shaking hands warmly; then turning to the expectant Tom, he asked; “Walk uptown with me, Nichols, I am anxious to have a word with you.” Tom’s face fell, and he was about to explain that he was obliged to return almost immediately to Fort Myer when Madame Yvonett answered for him. “Go with Friend Cooper, Thomas,” she said, “and return and have supper with me.” “Thanks, Cousin Yvonett, I will. I only hesitated, sir,” addressing Calhoun-Cooper, “because I am not walking; but I’ll be very happy to take you home in my car.”