COLONEL DENBIGH and Virginia had arrived at the corner of the street after a lengthy discussion. “I suppose I ought to call,” the colonel had said thoughtfully, pulling his mustache. “Of course!” said Virginia. “I’ve called already, but they were all out.” “Couldn’t you manage it that way for me, Jinny?” She laughed, blushing furiously. “I really wanted to see her, grandpa. They say she’s astonishingly pretty.” “Humph! I don’t gossip,” the Colonel grinned; “but Sallie Payson said to me, ‘The bride paints her face!’” Virginia looked at him absently, her eyes thoughtful. “I wonder! I met Emily yesterday. You know what a blond child she is? She has short, almost white eyelashes naturally.” Her grandfather nodded. “Yes, pig lashes--I remember. What about ’em?” Virginia laughed weakly. “She’s painted them. It gives her the most singular look. I can’t think her mother knows!” “She’s at the monkey age. She’s copying Mrs. William, of course.” He stood a moment, thinking, his thumbs in his waistcoat, and his fine white head bent. “It’s too bad! I--I suppose I’ve got to call, Jinny?” She hesitated, and he turned his head slowly, looking at her with a fine reluctance. If she was distressed, he did not want to see it. But he was reassured by her face. It was calm; there was only a little higher color in her cheeks, but her eyes sparkled. After a moment she answered him. “I don’t see why you have to go. William’s such a young man, and I’ve called and left your card. Perhaps you needn’t--not at once, grandpa.” “I don’t want them to think----” he stopped with his mouth open, he had come very near to speaking out--“I don’t want to hang back,” he concluded lamely; “but, confound it, Jinny, I don’t want to go alone!” She laughed a little nervously. “You needn’t. I’ve got to ask her to sing at the concert on Friday. Emily told me she had a lovely voice, and it’s got around that she’s a sensation--a beauty, you know. Mrs. Payson and Mrs. Barbour made me promise to ask her to sing. It’s for the Carters’ church, anyway, so of course it’s all right.” “You mean that concert to pay the church debt off?” The colonel looked thoughtful a moment; then suddenly he guffawed. “Going to ask her to sing in a Sunday-school hall--before all those strait-laced people--a girl from Paris? I reckon I’ll go, Jinny!” “I hope you will, and pay five dollars for a front seat. It’s really going to be very good, grandpa. Caraffi--the pianist, you know--is going to play. He’s expected Friday morning. His manager, a man called Corwin, came over to arrange for it yesterday. I’m very glad that I don’t have to deal with him again!” she added with a shudder. The colonel gave her a quick look. “Why?” She laughed. “Oh, for no reason--except that he’s terrible! A--a person!” “What sort of a person?” “Showy. He wears a huge diamond ring and very sporty clothes. He’s got a perfectly beautiful mustache and sparkling eyes, and--well, he’s just terrible!”