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palaces; but roses were in bloom beside its gates, and down the drive came racing a treasure

without price, a tiny creature in a little blue dress, with dark brown hair streaming and dark

brown eyes shining—she had been told two days ago that mother and father were on the way, and

had been prattling about them and asking questions ever since. She was more than halfway

through her fourth year, and it is astounding how fast they grow; you come back after three or

four months and a new being confronts you; you cannot restrain your cries of delight, and a

watchful expert has to check your ardors, lest you promote the evil quality of self-

consciousness. Irma Barnes, who had been brought up in a play-world herself, had a hard time

realizing that a child is more than a plaything for two delighted parents. Irma Barnes, who had

always had her own way, had to learn to submit to discipline in the name of that very dogmatic

new science of "child study."

Yes, indeed; for even a twenty-three-million-dollar baby has to learn to use her hands, and

how shall she learn if someone does everything for her and never lets her make any effort?

How will she learn discipline if she always has her own way, and if she gets the idea that she is

the center of attention, more important than any of those with whom she has to deal? The

severe Miss Severne persisted in the notion that her professional authority must be respected; and

likewise the conscientious Miss Addington, no longer needed as Marceline's governess, but

staying on as half-pensioner, half-friend of the family until she would take charge of Frances.

Those two Church-of-England ladies had been conspiring together, and enlisted Lanny's help

against a doting mother, two rival grandmothers, and a Provencal cook and major domo—to

say nothing of Santa Claus.

II

A merry Christmas, yet not too much so, for over the household hangs the shadow of sorrow;

nobody can forget those two bereaved Jewish women and the grief that is in their hearts.

Rahel and Mama try their best to restrain themselves, and not to inflict their suffering upon

their friends; but everybody knows what they are thinking about. Really, it would be less sad if

Freddi were dead and buried, for then at least they would be sure he wasn't suffering. But this

way the worst is possible, and it haunts them; they stay by themselves in the Lodge, their lost

one always in the back of their minds and most of the time in the front. They are touchingly

grateful for everything that has been done for them, but there is one thing more they have to

ask; their looks ask it even when their lips are silent. Oh, Lanny, oh, Irma, emit you think of

something to do for poor Freddi?

Hansi and Bess are in the Middle West, giving concerts several times every week. They have

cabled money after the first concert, so Mama and Rahel no longer have to use Irma's money

to buy their food. They have offered to rent a little place for themselves, but Beauty has said

No, why should they—it would be very unkind. Irma says the same; but in her heart she cannot

stifle the thought that she would like it better if they did. She feels a thunder-cloud hanging over

the place, and wants so much to get Lanny from under it. She is worried about what is going on

in his mind, and doesn't see why she should give up all social life because of a tragedy they are

powerless to avert. Irma wants to give parties, real parties, of the sort which make a social

impression; she will put up the money and Beauty and Feathers will do the work—both of

them happy to do so, because they believe in parties, because parties are what set you apart

from the common herd which cannot give them, at least not with elegance and chic.

Then, too, there is the question of two little tots. They are together nearly all the time, and

this cannot be prevented; they clamor for it, take it for granted, and the science of child study

is on their side. Impossible to bring up any child properly alone, because the child is a

gregarious creature; so the textbooks agree. If little Johannes were not available it would be

necessary to go out and get some fisherboy, Provencal, or Ligurian or what not. There isn't the

slightest fault that Irma can find with the tiny Robin; he is a dream of brunette loveliness, he

is gentle and sweet like his father, but he is a Jew, and Irma cannot be reconciled to the idea

that her darling Frances should be more interested in him than in any other human being, not

excepting herself. Of course, they are such tiny things, it seems absurd to worry; but the books

and the experts agree that this is the age when indelible impressions are made, and is it wise to

let an Aryan girl-child get fixed in her mind that the Semitic type is the most romantic, the most

fascinating in the world? Irma imagines some blind and tragic compulsion developing out of that,

later on in life.

Also, it means that the spirit of Freddi Robin possesses the whole of Bienvenu. The frail little