She jumped up and ran to the mirror. No;—tousled and flushed from warm and happy sleep, still drowsy, too, she was beautiful in the early sunshine. She knew it, and it was true. Last night had been her night, but it was not to be her only night;—and so, half laughing in her delight, she nodded charmingly to this charming mirror and began to think about what clothes to wear for the first day of her triumphant visit. She had no serious doubt now that it would remain triumphant, and so long as she kept upon her that glamour Cornelia had described as the look of “knowing something mysterious and lovely” about herself, Elsie was right not to doubt. She kept the look, and the longer she kept it, the easier it was to keep. Her visit was all glorious. XXV GLAMOUR CAN BE KEPT YOUNG Mr. Paul Reamer had been away, too, that winter. With no profession or business to localize his attention, and a heritage sufficient to afford him comfortable wandering, he had “tried California for a change,” as he said; and on his return he went at once to tell Miss Ford about Hollywood. She was not at home; but he waited;—she came in presently, and made a satisfactory noise over him. “To think of my not being here when you came!” she exclaimed when she had reached a point of more subdued demonstrations. “I’d just run over to Elsie’s for half an hour——” “Where?” “To Elsie’s. I spend about half my time there, I expect, and——” “You do?” He looked puzzled and a little amused. “What for?” “Why, everybody does,” Mamie returned, surprised. “That is, when she’s home. She’s away a good deal of the time, you know.” “You mean Elsie Hemingway?” “Why, naturally. What other Elsie is there?” “I don’t know.” He looked more puzzled and more amused. “You say, ‘everybody’ spends about half the time there?” He laughed. “That sounds funny! What on earth’s made her house such a busy place all of a sudden?” “Oh, it isn’t sudden,” Mamie said, and she added, reflectively, “You know Elsie always was about the best-_looking_ girl in town.” “Oh, possibly. It never seemed to get anywhere though,” he returned. “She’s good-looking all right, I suppose, but not the way anybody would ever notice.” “What?” Mamie cried. “Why, you don’t know what you’re talking about!” “I don’t?” He laughed incredulously. “Look here. What _is_ all this about little Elsie Hemingway? When I left town——” Miss Ford interrupted: “Have you seen old Fred yet?” “No. I haven’t seen anybody.” “Well, you’d better see old Fred and ask him ‘What _is_ all this about little Elsie Hemingway?’ He’ll probably fall in your arms and burst right out crying!” “What for?” “Why, for the same reason some of the others would do the same thing!” Paul shook his head. “I don’t think it’s friendly to try to fill me up with fairy stories, Mamie—not just the first minute after I’ve come home anyhow. When I went away——”