"I suppose only an Oriental artist could conceive such a combination," said Constance, ringing the bell for Yvonne and then curling into a little heap on the couch. "Dad brought it to me from Paris and I keep it for very special occasions. I couldn't make out what color it was but I loved it the minute I opened the box and I knew you girls would. I've thought very seriously of having it made into an evening coat, for it is too lovely to be used only in my room. But about its color. One day this Christmas vacation I was feeling a bit poorly, so I had tea up here and let Dad and Max come. I slipped on this robe to receive them in state and the minute Max saw it, he told me what it was like. The thing is in plain sight."
The girls glanced about the room. Edith's eyes lingered for a second on a brass bowl full of blue hyacinths, but passed on.
"I have it!" exclaimed Frances, noticing a slight inclination of Connie's fair head toward the open casement. "It's the color of the ocean!"
"Right!" said Constance. "The moment Max said so, I knew it. He did it very prettily, too, with some remark about the 'lady from the sea.' The silk really does change and shade as the water under storm and sun."
There came a tap and Yvonne, bearing a most tempting tray, entered with a smiling "Bon jour, mes demoiselles." Fruit, a fat little chocolate pot sending forth a delicious odor, and flanked by delicate china and shining silver, whipped cream, marshmallows, French rolls, sweet unsalted butter and raspberry jam, made the girls feel hungry at the mere sight. Dainty green and white snowdrops, tucked here and there by Yvonne's artistic fingers added the final touch.
"I think this is the greatest fun," said Frances. "Do you always have your breakfast this way?"
"Bless you, no," replied Constance. "This is an occasional Sunday morning indulgence. Every other day of the week, I am up, dressed and in my right mind to breakfast with my Dad. He'd think the world was coming down about his ears if his Connie wasn't there to pour his coffee. I warned him that we were going to have a debauch this morning and he won't care anyway, because he has Max. What did you mean, Edith, about a cat? Did you dream of Grayfur?"
"Why, no, it wasn't Grayfur," said Edith, dropping a marshmallow into her chocolate and watching it dissolve. "I thought Mr. Max succeeded in carrying out his joke. He must have come back much later and put another pussy in from behind the portrait. I woke some time in the night, oh, hours after, because the moonlight was 'way across the room, and sitting in it, washing its face, was the prettiest little half-grown kitten. It was a perfect beauty, white with a plumy tail. I spoke to it very softly so as not to wake either of you, and it looked at me and purred but would not come. I watched it chase its tail for a little and then it jumped in a big chair and curled itself up to sleep. I suppose it must have gone out when the door was opened this morning. May we see it again, Miss Connie? It was much prettier than Grayfur. But do tell us now about the ghost. We are in such a hurry to hear."
"You know practically all there is to know," said Constance whimsically.
Both girls stared at her. "What do you mean!" asked Edith. "Is it a joke? Isn't there any ghost?"