"Bully for you, John Marshall Glenarm!" I rose

and bowed low to his photograph.

On top of my mail next morning lay a small envelope,

unstamped, and addressed to me in a free running hand.

"Ferguson left it," explained Bates.

I opened and read: If convenient will Mr. Glenarm kindly look in at St.

Agatha's some day this week at four o'clock. Sister Theresa

wishes to see him.

I whistled softly. My feelings toward Sister Theresa

had been those of utter repugnance and antagonism. I

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had been avoiding her studiously and was not a little

surprised that she should seek an interview with me.

Quite possibly she wished to inquire how soon I expected

to abandon Glenarm House; or perhaps she wished to

admonish me as to the perils of my soul. In any event

I liked the quality of her note, and I was curious to

know why she sent for me; moreover, Marian Devereux

was her niece and that was wholly in the Sister's favor.

At four o'clock I passed into St. Agatha territory

and rang the bell at the door of the building where I

had left Olivia the evening I found her in the chapel.

A Sister admitted me, led the way to a small reception-room

where, I imagined, the visiting parent was received,

and left me. I felt a good deal like a school-boy

who has been summoned before a severe master for

discipline. I was idly beating my hat with my gloves

when a quick step sounded in the hall and instantly a

brown-clad figure appeared in the doorway.

"Mr. Glenarm?"

It was a deep, rich voice, a voice of assurance, a

voice, may I say? of the world,-a voice, too, may I

add? of a woman who is likely to say what she means

without ado. The white band at her forehead brought

into relief two wonderful gray eyes that were alight

with kindliness. She surveyed me a moment, then her

lips parted in a smile.

"This room is rather forbidding; if you will come

with me-"

She turned with an air of authority that was a part

of her undeniable distinction, and I was seated a moment

later in a pretty sitting-room, whose windows

gave a view of the dark wood and frozen lake beyond.

"I'm afraid, Mr. Glenarm, that you are not disposed

to be neighborly, and you must pardon me if I seem to

be pursuing you."

Her smile, her voice, her manner were charming. I

had pictured her a sour old woman, who had hidden

away from a world that had offered her no pleasure.

"The apologies must all be on my side, Sister Theresa.

I have been greatly occupied since coming here,-

distressed and perplexed even."

"Our young ladies treasure the illusion that there

are ghosts at your house" she said, with a smile that

disposed of the matter.




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