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"Maurice! Maurice! Where is he?" she cried, leaving the major and rushing toward the empty bed. "You said he was here--my poor dead love; but I can't see him. Where is he? Where is he?",

It was hard work later on, when they had to face the inquiries of the wrathful Judith, to convince her that the whole thing was not a plot against Elinor by some envious rival.,

That it was a crime he was certain, for there was no reasonable idea to suppose that Maurice had committed suicide. He had left for Deanminster hardly three hours before, full of health and spirits; and now he was dead. A dead body, a lonely road--all the evidence of an atrocious assassination having been committed, and not one trace of the assassin. Undoubtedly the twice-uttered cry had come from Maurice, and as Jen had raced out of the house after the first time he heard it, he must have reached his boy almost immediately after he died; before, so to speak, the body had time to grow cold. Yet the strange part of the affair was that the body was cold, and that there did not seem to be any wound whereby the murder could have been achieved.,

"Do you know," interrupted Patricia, suddenly alert again, "I don't believe I'll ever amount to a row of pins as an artist? I always forget the work and think only of the people and the fun. I wonder if I can't brace up and do something worth while. I'll start in tomorrow—see if I don't."

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"You all know," Bruce went on, "that I have been trying an experiment of my favorite theory of art education, but very few of you know how it has progressed. And it is to show you the result that I have lured you here today—to crow over some of you, in fact. The canvas I am going to show you was designed, executed as far as it has gone, entirely by Miss Elinor Kendall, a student of hardly more than nine months' study. The subject is the 'Nativity' and it is designed for a chancel in a small church.",

"Suits me to a gnat's heel," declared Patricia eagerly. "Food is a secondary article, anyway, when it comes to character study. I'm not so keen on cookery since I sighted this tasteful apartment.",

"And after eight years he wants to come back and find you squeezed into a twenty-inch waist, blue muslin rag you wore at parting? No wonder Alfred didn't succeed as a bank clerk, but had to make his hit in the colonies. He's such a big gun that it is a pity he had to return to his native heath and find even such a slight disappointment as a one-yard waist measure around his—his—",

Patricia gasped, and in the moment's silence that fell she gave the promising authoress a little shake.