Lois went home in a maze. This, then, explained why Mr. Keith had suddenly stopped coming to the house. When he had met her he had appeared as glad as ever to see her, but he had also appeared constrained. He had begun to talk of going away. He was almost the only man in New York that she could call her friend. To think of New York without him made her lonely. He was in love with Mrs. Lancaster, she knew--of that she was sure, notwithstanding Mrs. Nailor's statement. Could Mrs. Lancaster have treated him badly? She had not even cared for her husband, so people said; would she be cruel to Keith?
The more she pondered over it the more unhappy Lois became. Finally it appeared to her that her duty was plain. If Mrs. Lancaster had rejected Keith for Wickersham, she might set her right. She could, at least, set her right as to the story about him and Mrs. Wentworth.
That afternoon she called on Mrs. Lancaster. It was in the Spring, and she put on a dainty gown she had just made.
She was received with the sincere cordiality that Alice Lancaster always showed her. She was taken up to her boudoir, a nest of blue satin and sunshine. And there, of all occupations in the world, Mrs. Lancaster, clad in a soft lavender tea-gown, was engaged in mending old clothes. "For my orphans," she said, with a laugh and a blush that made her look charming.
A photograph of Keith stood on the table in a silver frame. When, however, Lois would have brought up the subject of Mr. Keith, his name stuck in her throat.
"I have what the children call 'a swap' for you," said the girl, smiling.
Mrs. Lancaster smiled acquiescingly as she bit off a thread.
"I heard some one say the other day that you were one of those who 'do good by stealth, and blush to find it fame.'"
"Oh, how nice! I am not, at all, you know. Still, it is pleasant to deceive people that way. Who said it?"
"Mr. Keith." Lois could not help blushing a little; but she had broken the ice.