"Oh, yes. He's a bird on the box, too."
"What!"
"On the piano, Steve. He's the real thing. He sings charmingly. He draws better than Harry Beltran. He's done things in clay and wax—really wonderful things. You saw him in theatricals."
"Did I? Which was he?"
"Why, the Duke of Brooklyn, of course. He was practically the whole show!"
"I didn't know it," she murmured. "I did not recognize him. How clever he really is!"
"You hadn't met him then," remarked Jim.
"But I had seen him, once," she answered in a low, dreamy voice.
Jim Cleland glanced around at her. Again it struck him that Stephanie was growing up very rapidly into an amazingly ornamental girl—a sister to be proud of.
"Did you have a good time, Steve?" he asked.