"When I was a child, yes," she retorted scornfully. "But I realize, now, how short life is——" "Fiddle," repeated Jim. "That fool college is spoiling you for fair!" "Dad! He’s a brute! You understand me, darling, don’t you? Don’t let him plague me." His arm around her slender shoulder tightened; all three were laughing. "You don’t _have_ to dance, Steve, if you don’t want to," he said. "Do you consider it frivolous to dine occasionally? Meacham has just announced the possibility of food." She nestled close to him as they went out to dinner, all three very gay and loquacious, and the two men keenly conscious of the girl’s rapid development, of the serious change in her, the scarcely suppressed exuberance, the sparkling and splendid bodily vitality. As they entered the dining room: "Oh, Meacham, I’m glad to see you," she cried impulsively, taking the little withered man’s hands into both of hers. There was no reply, only in the burnt-out eyes a sudden mist—the first since his mistress had passed away. "Dad, do you mind if I run down a moment to see Lizzie and Janet and Amanda? Dear, I’ll be right back——" She was gone, light-footed, eager, down the service stairs—a child again in the twinkling of an eye. The two men, vaguely smiling, remained standing. When she returned, Meacham seated her. She picked up the blossom beside her plate, saw the other at the unoccupied place opposite, and her eyes suddenly filled. There was a moment’s silence, then she kissed the petals and placed the flower in her hair. "My idea," she began, cheerfully, "is to waste no time in life! So I think I’d like to go to the theatre all the time——" The men’s laughter checked her and she joined in. "You _do_ understand, both of you!" she insisted. "You’re tormenting me and you know it! _I_ don’t go to the theatre to amuse myself. I go to inform myself—to learn, study, improve myself in the art of self-expression—Jim, you are a beast to grin at me!" "Steve, for Heaven’s sake, be a human girl for a few moments and have a good time!" "_That’s_ my way of having a good time. I wish to go to studios and see painters and sculptors at work! I wish to go to plays and concerts——" "How about seeing a real author at work, Steve?" "You?" she divined with a dainty sniff. "Certainly. Come up any morning and watch genius work a lead-pencil. That ought to educate you and leave an evening or two for dancing——" "Jim, I positively do not care for parties. I don’t even desire to waste one minute of my life. Ordinary people bore me, I tell you——" "Do I?" "Sometimes," she retorted, with delighted malice. And turning swiftly to Cleland Senior: "As for you, darling, I could spend every minute of my whole existence with you and not be bored for one second!" The claret in John Cleland’s glass—claret forbidden under Dr. Wilmer’s régime—glowed like a ruby. But he could not permit Stephanie to return without that old-fashioned formality.