"The Secretary is dining a rather important commission," the Doctor said; "it was in the paper. They are to have a war feast--three courses, no wine, and limited meats and sweets." They stopped for a moment as the guests descended from their cars and swept across the sidewalk. The lantern which swung low from the arched entrance showed a spot of rosy color--the velvet wrap of a girl whose knot of dark curls shone above the ermine collar. A Spanish comb, encrusted with diamonds, was stuck at right angles to the knot. Beside the young woman in the rosy wrap walked a young man in a fur coat who topped her by a head. He had gray eyes and a small upturned mustache--Jean uttered an exclamation. "What's the matter?" her father asked. "Oh, nothing--" she watched the two ascend the stairs. "I thought for a moment that I knew him." The great door opened and closed, the rosy wrap and the fur coat were swallowed up. "Of course it couldn't be," Jean decided as she and her father continued on their wonderful way. "Couldn't be what, my dear?" "The same man, Daddy," Jean said, and changed the subject. CHAPTER II CINDERELLA The next time that Jean saw Him was at the theater. She and her father went to worship at the shrine of Maude Adams, and He was there. It was Jean's yearly treat. There were, of course, other plays. But since her very-small-girlhood, there had been always that red-letter night when "The Little Minister" or "Hop-o'-my-Thumb" or "Peter Pan" had transported her straight from the real world to that whimsical, tender, delightful realm where Barrie reigns. Peter Pan had been the climax! _Do you believe in fairies?_ Of course she did. And so did Miss Emily. And so did her father, except in certain backsliding moments. But Hilda didn't. Tonight it was "A Kiss for Cinderella"--! The very name had been enough to set Jean's cheeks burning and her eyes shining. "Do you remember, Daddy, that I was six when I first saw her, and she's as young as ever?" "Younger." It was at such moments that the Doctor was at his best. The youth in him matched the youth in his daughter. They were boy and girl together. And now the girl on the stage, whose undying youth made her the interpreter of dreams for those who would never grow up, wove her magic spells of tears and laughter. It was not until the first satisfying act was over that Jean drew a long breath and looked about her.