How was he, himself, to get an opportunity for a private conversation with Mrs. Rutherford, the necessity for which was uppermost in his thoughts? And who was she, anyway? That she was a personage there could be no doubt. Peter racked his brains to remember if he had ever heard of her, to no purpose. She was of a previous generation, but a personality like that---- Unconsciously, Mrs. Rutherford proceeded to enlighten him. He was so preoccupied that he only caught his own name in the middle of a sentence: "And Mr. Clancy, judging by his name and appearance," she was saying, "ought to enjoy the story as much as I did. We're both Irish, aren't we, Mr. Clancy? As you may possibly know, my name was Rohan once upon a time, and----" Rohan. Kate Rohan! Something clicked in Peter's brain. Who, even of his comparative youth, had not heard of the old Athenæum Company, and of Kate Rohan, its planet among stars? So! That accounted for--much--the gracious presence, the wonderful voice--and many, many things besides, Peter thought. He missed, almost completely, the amusing Irish story, told with a delicate, subtle brogue and a perfect inflection, but he heard just enough to join spontaneously in the laugh which irresistibly followed. At the end of the story Mrs. Rutherford rose majestically, and like a great ship getting under way, started toward the door. "I must be going, Helena," she said, holding out her still beautiful hand. "I'm coming to see you and Don very soon again. Take care of yourself, Don, and," with a little quick shake of the head as she put her hand in his, "don't worry about things, my dear. There's nothing really worth wasting a lot of expensive worry upon." "I'll see you to your car, Aunt Kate," said Morris, placing his hand under her elbow. She turned on him at that, and drew herself up with a little laugh. "I'd have you know, Donald, that I walked down here and intend to walk back," she said, proudly. "But, Aunt Kate!" "Yes, my dear. The doctor says that if I don't take some gentle exercise I'll spoil my figure" (she pronounced it "figgah"), "to say nothing of having another heart attack. And he calls walking up the mountain 'gentle exercise'! To be sure, I take it slowly, but whu-u-u----!" She drew a long breath and let it go in a tragic sigh, but her eyes were full of an inextinguishable humour. "Are you going to be long here, Mr. Clancy?" she asked, turning to say "good-bye" to Peter, who stood close beside her. "I don't quite know," replied Peter, quietly. "It will depend a good deal on circumstances. I ought to go back to town this afternoon, but I haven't been around the--the Park much yet, and I promised myself I'd see something of it--only Don"--(he referred thus familiarly to his host without the flicker of an eyelash)--"you see, Don doesn't feel quite up to going about with me, and----"