Edna caught her lip between her teeth, and stood still, regarding her blushing guest. A curious excitement took possession of Dunham. Had Sylvia left the bottle purposely for him to find it? "It has gone down fast since yesterday," he went on. "Remember, I saw it yesterday. Any one who comes in on this will have to be prompt and firm." He looked accusingly at the girl, who was the picture of embarrassment, as she stood there, laughing with a conscious air. "Very well," she exclaimed suddenly. "You shan't tease me any longer about that. Here!" She seized a cup from the coffee table, and, emptying into it the remaining contents of the bottle, she handed it to Dunham. He looked at her strangely. "What is this? An elixir?" "You say so," she replied saucily. "Will it make me fluent, and sparkling, and gay?" "You say so." "Then I should let Edna have a share." He started to hand the cup to his hostess. "No, no," laughed Sylvia, putting out a protesting hand. "She doesn't need it. It's not fit for Edna. Take it yourself, and--the consequences." Dunham looked over the rim of the cup at the merry, defiant face, and drank. He then replaced the cup on the table, with sudden gravity and a look of tardy apprehension in the direction of Edna. "It's not sweet," he said. "No," returned Sylvia, "except in its results." Their young hostess stood there, rigid, her hand leaning on the back of a chair. John could not meet the speaker's eyes. "I have a new story upstairs," he said abruptly. "I'm going to get it and see if I can't induce one of you to read aloud." He disappeared, and Sylvia regarded the empty bottle with reminiscent eyes. "What did you expect to do with that stuff, Sylvia?" asked Edna. "Something that will make a transformation in my life," replied the other slowly. "I want to tell you about it when we have more time. I know you have to go back now to your workmen,--but I'm very hopeful, Edna, and, unless I deceive myself greatly, I shall be happy; and you've been so wonderfully generous to a stranger, you'll be happy for me, I'm sure." "We haven't time to talk now, as you say," returned Edna, with a measured coldness that caused her friend to look up, the light vanishing from her face. "Your actions have amazed me beyond words. Would you be willing that Thinkright should know the dreams and plans you have indulged in in this place?" Sylvia stood dumb, transfixed, convicted of guilt. "It does not come gracefully from your hostess to lecture you, I know; but against my will I have learned what I know, and--the disappointment has been bitter, Sylvia. Don't be vexed with me for speaking plainly. I can help you, I believe, when we get an opportunity for a quiet talk. Yes, I'm coming, Jenny," for the girl was at the door, bringing a question from the carpenter. "Excuse me, Sylvia. We'll talk later."