lounge not far from a pair of French windows, which opened on the veranda at the side of the house.
"I hope you won't feel dull, Olive! As soon as Parliament closes, if you and Frieda like, we will have some people come to stay with us. I don't like the responsibility of visitors if Frank is not here. I have never learned to take guests so simply and easily as an English hostess does. It is one of the ways in which I am a social failure."
"Nonsense," Olive announced, without paying much attention to what Jack had said. She had picked up a magazine and was reading.
An hour passed and Olive believed that Jack had almost fallen asleep. Now and then she would close her eyes, although the greater part of the time she seemed in a reverie.
As a matter of fact Jack was really thinking of the old ranch and the people at home, whom Olive's coming had brought to mind more vividly than usual.
"I'm glad Jean and Ralph are at the ranch this year with Ruth and Jim," she said finally. "What a pleasure it must be to Jean that Ralph is such a successful engineer – one of the biggest in the United States, Jim writes. But Jim always liked Ralph better than any of the husbands. He never could altogether forgive Frank for being an Englishman."
"Oh Ralph has not been at the ranch much," Olive added, looking up from her book. "He has been working out on the coast and at Panama, but I think Jean is glad to have a rest because she has traveled with him so much."
In the ensuing silence Jack must actually have dozed, and certainly Olive found a more absorbing article in her magazine. But Jack must also have dreamed, for she woke thinking she heard a voice calling her from outdoors, "Jack! Jack!"
This was, of course, out of the question except in a dream. Kent House was a mile from any place other than its own Lodge. Besides no one whom she could possibly imagine would call out "Jack!" in such a fashion and at such an hour of the night.
Nevertheless Olive looked surprised, so she too must have heard some kind of a noise.
The second time the sound was heard, Jack started up.
"Please ring the bell for the servants, Olive. I am sure I hear a voice calling me. It sounds absurd and yet I must find out who it is. Even if the servants insist this house is haunted, no one has ever yet suggested that the lawn is also haunted."
Then, in characteristic fashion, and without putting a wrap over her white dress or waiting for any one to accompany her, Jack ran through the library and out into the broad hall. There was no one near, so she pulled open the heavy front door.
Leading up to Kent House was a winding avenue of trees. At some little distance down the avenue, Lady Kent thought she could see a dark object apparently standing still in the center of the road. Without pausing even long enough for Olive to join her, she ran through the darkness toward it.
"Jack! Jack! be careful!" she heard the voice call, and this time she recognized whose voice it was.
CHAPTER III
THE VOICE
"BUT, Frieda, how could you possibly have arranged to arrive in the middle of the night like this?"
Jack had reached the waiting taxicab, which stood transfixed in the middle of the road and had pulled open the door of the vehicle, only to find her sister sitting inside, almost completely enveloped in steamer blankets and bags and boxes.
"The cab broke down," Frieda remarked plaintively, evidently attempting to explain last conditions first. It seemed not to have occurred to her that even in the event of this difficulty, she could have gotten out and walked up to the house. But it was eminently characteristic of Frieda simply to sit still and call for her sister, as she always had done in any emergency when they were both girls.
The next moment Lady Kent, with the assistance of the driver, had helped her visitor to alight. If Olive and the butler had not arrived just then, she might again have forgotten her dignity and begun dragging out Frieda's bags. But instead, she and Olive, escorted Frieda up the avenue, leaving the two men to bring her possessions.
"I was lonely after Olive left me in New York," Frieda explained. "So when I read in the paper one morning that a particularly comfortable steamer was sailing, I decided not to wait an entire week, if I could get a nice stateroom. I thought Olive would not need but a few days to tell you. You have told, haven't you, Olive?" Frieda demanded, with a slight change of tone.
When Olive answered "yes," briefly, she went on:
"Please don't ask me any questions tonight, Jack. I'm most dead. No; I didn't have a rough crossing, but I have never arrived anywhere alone before in my whole life. I knew I could call up Frank at his club in London, but I did not wish to see him first. Still, I don't care what he thinks, since I have lost all faith in men. But I don't see why some one did not meet me at the station here. I telegraphed from Liverpool that I was on the way."
Jack shook her head.
"Curious dear, but we never received your telegram."
"Oh, well;" Frieda added more indulgently, "I didn't exactly telegraph myself, but I gave the money to a boy and told him what to say. Perhaps he made a mistake, or kept the money, or something," she ended nonchalantly. For they were now entering the great hall at Kent House and Frieda realized that she did not care very much for small things, so grateful was she to be again with her sister.
Impulsively she turned and embraced her.
Perhaps it was because Frieda was tired, but Jack could see that she was not so unaffected by what she had been passing through as Olive had imagined.
It is true Frieda looked as much like an exquisite wax doll as ever. Her eyes were as large and delicately blue, and her hair was a mass of soft yellow curls; yet there was a subtle change in her expression.
Olive had led the way into the library.
"We won't talk about anything until you like, Frieda," Jack whispered.
"Will you go up to your rooms now or have something to eat first down here with Olive and me?" she asked.
Frieda permitted Olive and Jack to remove her coat and hat. A few moments later, however, she announced that she preferred going upstairs to bed. So Jack finally bade her goodnight, after arranging that she was to ring her bell for breakfast, when she wished it the next morning.
When Frieda rang for breakfast it was nearly eleven o'clock and Jack went into her room with the maid who carried the tray.
Frieda ate her morning repast languidly, while her sister sat beside her talking of trivial things.
"Where is Olive?" Frieda inquired finally. And when informed that Olive was in the nursery with the children, protested: "I suppose you know I am jealous of your baby's being named for Olive. Of course I know you and she are very dear friends; but, after all, I am your sister."
"I felt that way about it too, Frieda, but Frank seemed not to wish a German name," Jack answered, "and Vive has her own name now anyhow. Maybe the next time."
Frieda frowned. "Don't talk of next time, Jack. I can't imagine your having a family. I hate being married." And without any other warning two large tears rolled down Frieda's cheeks.
"I'd rather tell you what has happened between Henry and me this minute and get through with it. And I'd prefer to tell you without Olive's hearing. I don't mean to be impolite, but Olive is almost an old maid and
