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Neither Thomas nor Jane answered. But again he eyed the nurse, this time flashing a silent warning. After which she began to exclaim excitedly over the rabbit, while he wound up the merry-go-round. Then the ruby seats and the Arabs careened in a circle, the music played, the rabbit chewed and wriggled and rolled his luminous eyes.

An interruption came in the shape of a ring at the telephone, which stood on the small table at the head of Gwendolyn’s bed. Jane answered the summons, and received the message,—a brief one. It worked, however, a noticeable change. For when Jane turned round her face was sullen.

Gwendolyn remarked the scowls. Also the fact that the moment Jane made Thomas her confidant—in an undertone—he showed plain signs of being annoyed. Gwendolyn saw the merry-go-round—cabbage and all—disappear into the large, round box without a trace of regret. So much ill-feeling on the part of nurse and man-servant undoubtedly meant that something of a decidedly pleasant nature was about to happen to herself.

It was a usual—almost a daily—occurrence for her to visit the region of the grown-ups at the dinner-hour. On such occasions she saw one, though more often both, of her parents—as well as a varying number of guests. And the privilege was one held dear.

She coveted a dearer. And her eyes roved to the larger of her two tables, where stood the tall lamp. There she ate all her meals, in the condescending company of Miss Royle. What if the telephone message meant that henceforth she was to eat downstairs?

Standing on one foot she waited developments, and concealed her eagerness by snapping her underlip against her teeth with one busy forefinger.

Her spirits fell when Thomas appeared with the supper-tray. And she ate with no appetite—for all that she was eating alone—alone, that is, except for Thomas, who preserved a complete and stony silence. Miss Royle had not returned. Jane had disappeared toward her room, grumbling about never having a single evening to call her own.

But at seven cheer returned with the realization that Jane was not getting ready the white-and-gold bed. Still in a very bad humor, and touched up smartly by a fresh cap and a dainty apron, the nurse put Gwendolyn into a rosebud-bordered mull frock and tied a white-satin bow atop her yellow hair.

“Where am I going, Jane?” asked Gwendolyn. (She felt certain that this was one of the nights when she was invited downstairs: She hoped—with a throb in her throat that was like the beat of a heart—that the supper just past was only afternoon tea, and that there was waiting for her at the grown-up table—in view of her newly acquired year and dignity—an empty chair.)

“You’ll see soon enough,” answered Jane, shortly.

Next, a new thought! Her father and mother had not seen her for two whole days—not since she was six. “Wonder if I show I’m not taller,” she mused under her breath.

At precisely fifteen minutes to eight Jane took her by the hand. And she went down and down in the bronze cage, past the floor where were the guest chambers, past the library floor, which was where her mother and father lived, to the second floor of the great house. Here was the music-room, spacious and splendid, and the dining-room. The doors of this latter room were double. Before them the two halted.

Not only the pause at this entrance betrayed whereto they were bound, but also Jane’s manner. For the nurse was holding herself erect and proper—shoulders back, chin in, heels together. Gwendolyn had often noted that upon both Jane and Thomas her parents had a curious stiffening effect.

The thought of that empty chair now forced itself uppermost. The gray eyes darkened with sudden anxiety.

“Now, Gwendolyn” whispered Jane, leaning down, “put your best foot forward.” Her face had lost some of its accustomed color.

“But, Jane,” whispered Gwendolyn back, “which is my best foot?”

Jane gave the small hand she was holding an impatient shake. “Hush your rubbishy questions,” she commanded “We’re goin’ in!” She tapped one of the doors gently.

Gwendolyn glanced down at her daintily slippered feet. With so little time for reflecting, she could not decide which one she should put forward. Both looked equally well.