She felt that if he continued to plague her she surely would disgrace herself by saying something which would offend the Gates sisters. How could they like such a man? He was cheap and coarse and obviously insincere. “Poor things,” she told herself. “They haven’t had much attention from men and it flatters them.” The tension was somewhat relieved when Iris asked Kitty if she could sing or play the piano. “I’m not in the least musical,” Kitty returned, “but Doris sings beautifully.” Upon being urged to entertain the group, Doris obediently went to the piano. After looking over the music she selected a familiar piece, struck a few chords, and began to sing. A hush fell over the group, and even Ronald Trent, who was talking to Iris, became quiet. “Lovely,” Azalea murmured when she had finished. “You have a wonderful voice.” “Pretty keen,” Ronald Trent agreed, “but can’t you sing something livelier? I don’t like them church hymns.” “You call those songs church hymns?” Doris asked with an amused smile. “Really, if you want popular music, I can’t oblige you. My teacher permits me to sing only classical.” After she had left the piano, Ronald Trent launched into a lengthy tale concerning his recent exploits in South America. In many particulars the story did not hang together, and Doris and Kitty were bored. Iris and Azalea were flattering listeners and, whenever he showed signs of pausing, urged him on with interested questions. As Doris listened, doubts began to form in her mind. It seemed incomprehensible that this boasting, crude stranger could really be her cousin. There must be a mistake, she told herself. Ronald Trent was _not_ a relative; of that she felt certain. “Well, girlies, isn’t it about time you trundled off to your little beds?” he asked, looking insinuatingly at Doris and Kitty. “I imagine you girls are tired,” Azalea murmured. “If you like, I can have Cora show you to your room.” “Oh, we’re not sleepy yet,” Kitty said mischievously. Ronald Trent fairly glared at her. “Run along now,” he said lightly, but with a look which warned the girls he expected to be obeyed. “I have some business to talk over with Iris and Azalea.” Iris rang for Cora, and the girls reluctantly followed her upstairs through a long hall and down a number of steps into a wing which branched off to the right. Cora showed them their room and left them alone. “Looks as if we’re to be off in this wing all by ourselves,” Kitty said uneasily. “This place is too spooky to suit me.” The room was large and austere with long mirrors and an old-fashioned four-poster bed and dresser. Several rag rugs were scattered over the bare floor. Double windows looked down over the side veranda and the branches of a sprawling maple tree brushed against the panes. As a precautionary measure Kitty looked under the bed and peeped into the closet.