First I called the Club and got Carter Brooks on the telephone.

"Carter," I said, "I--I am writing a letter. Where is--where does H.

stay?"

"Who?"

"H.--Mr. Grosvenor."

"Why, bless your ardent little Heart! Writing, are you? It's sublime,

Bab!"

"Where does he live?"

"And is it all alone you are, on Xmas Night!" he burbled. (This is a

word from Alice in WonderLand, and although not in the dictionery, is

quite expressive.) "Yes," I replied, bitterly. "I am old enough to be married off without

my consent, but I am not old enough for a real Ball. It makes me sick."

"I can smuggle him here, if you want to talk to him."

"Smuggle!" I said, with scorn. "There is no need to smuggle him. The

Familey is crazy about him. They are flinging me at him."

"Well, that's nice," he said. "Who'd have thought it! Shall I bring him

to the 'phone?"

"I don't want to talk to him. I hate him."

"Look here," he observed, "if you keep that up, he'll begin to beleive

you. Don't take these little quarrels too hard, Barbara. He's so happy

to-night in the thought that you----"

"Does he live in a Cabinet, or where?"

"In a what? I don't get that word."

"Don't bother. Where shall I send his letter?"

Well, it seemed he had an apartment at the Arcade, and I rang off. It

was after eleven by that time, and by the time I had got into my school

mackintosh and found a heavy veil of mother's and put it on, it was

almost half past.

The house was quiet, and as Patrick had gone, there was no one around in

the lower Hall. I slipped out and closed the door behind me, and

looked for a taxicab, but the veil was so heavy that I hailed our own

limousine, and Smith had drawn up at the curb before I knew him.

"Where to, lady?" he said. "This is a private car, but I'll take you

anywhere in the city for a dollar."

A flush of just indignation rose to my cheek, at the knowledge that

Smith was using our car for a taxicab! And just as I was about to speak

to him severely, and threaten to tell father, I remembered, and walked

away.

"Make it seventy-five cents," he called after me. But I went on. It was

terrable to think that Smith could go on renting our car to all sorts of

people, covered with germs and everything, and that I could never report

it to the Familey.




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