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Elinor slipped Judith's nervous hand into her muff within her own. "What I say, Mr. Alymer! You--admire Miss Dallas?".

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"I'll put on my new bonnet," she promised, and trotted off to her room, smoothing the tails of her basque with eager fingers. Patricia retreated to the tree, and Doris stood with one hand clutching the cloak and the light strong on her face. She looked more beautiful than ever to Patricia's friendly eyes, and there was a calm strength in her manner that awed while it comforted her. All consciousness of herself was gone, and, Patricia felt, gone forever, and in its place a quiet courage that spoke of conquered pride and vanity and selfishness. Doris Leighton had found herself. "That's so," admitted Patricia readily. "You always hit the nail on the head, old lady. Now I must run. See you later," and closing the door behind her, she ran down the steps and hurried off through the tingling morning air, with her parcel tight under her arm and a kindling light on her mobile face. Elinor sat down in surprise. "Oh, but I can't," she protested. "I can't sing at all. Miss Pat——".