"It was just an oversight," she said to herself. "A mere chance."
A mere chance, and yet chance sometimes means fate.
Helen met them with so many questions about Gladys, the boys, and Aunt Helen, that Jean had no opportunity to unfold her plan for dinner until Miss Stuart had gone to her room, and she had followed her sister into the nursery. Helen was tired and travel-worn, but she was delighted by Jean's thoughtfulness for Lillian's pleasure, and listened interestedly while her sister anxiously submitted the menu for her approval.
"Everything is perfect, dear," she said, putting Gladys down from her lap and making her way out into the hall, "but before I go to dress I must tell Lillian that we are to have guests to dinner," and she turned away without noting the shadow that crossed Jean's face at the mention of Miss Stuart's name.
Miss Stuart stood before her dressing-table arranging the silver toilet articles which she had just taken from her trunk. She had thoroughly enjoyed her stay at Newport, and was feeling in a good humor with all the world. She turned a bright glance of inquiry as the door opened to admit Helen, and betrayed a ready interest in her friend's announcement.
"Two officers from the Coast Survey schooner that is anchored here, Mr. Dudley and Mr. Farr; Valentine Farr."
The little vinaigrette Miss Stuart held in her hand dropped on the dressing-table. Her face contracted sharply, and she made a quick instinctive movement away from the light.
"Valentine Farr," she repeated slowly, keeping her voice well under control. "It must be the same of course."
"Do you know him?" Helen asked the question absent-mindedly, for she was looking about her critically, to assure herself that everything in the room was as it should be.