you that I'll never flirt with Ernest Chapin again; but until Justin does come back, I must have somebody to talk to."
"You're a little rogue," said her mother, kissing her fondly, "and as I'm here to look after you, I'm not much afraid that you'll do anything very dreadful. But I forbid you ever to be alone with Mr. Chapin for a moment, and I shall see to it myself that my commands are obeyed. Now you must get dressed for dinner, dearie. What shall you wear?"
"I don't know," returned Dorothy thoughtfully. "I don't feel like wearing bright colors, for it seems, somehow, as if Justin were dead."
"Don't talk like that," said Mrs. Duncan peremptorily. "Put on your rose and silver. If we feel down-hearted, that's all the more reason we should look as cheerful as possible. And probably Justin will come home to dinner, any way, and he likes you in that dress."
"He likes me in anything; but he doesn't love me in anything. At least, not what I call love."
As these words were half-muttered, Mrs. Duncan did not entirely catch them, and she went away to her own room, leaving Dorothy to decide on her costume for herself.
Chapter XI.
Flirtation
Glancing from her window, Dorothy saw Mabel and Leila strolling across the lawn deeply engrossed in conversation.
"Perhaps they've heard something!" she said to herself. "I'll get dressed early and go down."
Had she heard what the two were saying, she might not have cared to go down so soon, for they were talking of her.
"She's a dear," said Leila, "and I hate to realize what a little flirt she is."
"She's so pretty, she can't help it," said Mabel. "But she ought to have a little regard for the proprieties."
"Why, what has she done very dreadful?"
"Oh, it isn't so very dreadful, but it doesn't look well."
"What is it? Tell me."
"Well, don't you breathe it, but last night, awfully late, I saw her creeping slyly downstairs."
"Why, she was in my room until we went to bed," and Leila looked uninterested.
"Oh, I mean later than that. It was almost two o'clock."
"What!"
"Yes, it was. There was a window shade flapping in the hall, and it kept me awake, and I got up to fix it, and I saw Dorothy in one of those lovely negligees of hers, moving along the wall toward the stairs."
"Did you see her go down?"
"Yes; she had her hair in two long braids and a rosebuddy little cap on."
"What was she going down for?"
"I don't know, I'm sure. To flirt with somebody, I suppose. I didn't tell Fred, he hates anything like eavesdropping, and I wasn't;—I just saw her by the merest chance."
"I wonder who was down there," said Leila thoughtfully.
"Probably that Mr. Chapin. He's wild over Dorothy."
"Who isn't? She has more charm than any girl I ever saw."
"Who says she hasn't? I know how pretty and attractive she is. But that doesn't excuse friskiness like that. She oughtn't to do it."
"Perhaps she went down for water, or to get a book, or something."
"Perhaps she didn't! You know the appointments of this house better than that! And she wasn't in a kimono. It was one of those white, lacy Parisian boudoir robes of hers, with a bunch of that scarlet sage she's always wearing, stuck in her belt. Oh, she was on an escapade all right!"
"A harmless one, I'm sure. Maybe she was going to see Justin."
"More likely Chapin. I tell you she's in love with him."
"I don't think so."
"Then you can't read signs. You watch them to-night. Well, it's dressing time. I suppose those Philadelphia men will come soon. And I do hope Justin will show up. I haven't the least fear about him, have you?"
"I don't know whether I have or I haven't," and Leila looked anxious. "It's awfully queer,—and yet I can't think there's anything wrong. Goodness, there's Dorothy, all dressed. Doesn't she look lovely!"
And Dorothy did. The exquisite gown of rose satin and silver tulle draped her dainty figure in a soft silhouette, and her rounded babyish arms and neck needed no jewel or ornament to accent their loveliness.
She paused for a bit of gay banter with the two, and then, as they went on, she turned toward the South Terrace, half hoping she'd find Ernest Chapin there. For wilful Dorothy had not the slightest intention of obeying her mother's injunctions regarding that young man.
Chapin, was not there, but Campbell Crosby was. He stood leaning against the terrace rail, with folded arms, looking out across the ravine. Dorothy went softly up to him, and stood by his side. As he turned and saw her, his face lighted up with a glad smile of greeting, and, taking both her hands in his, he said in a low tone, "Oh, I'm so glad to be back—with you."
It was no new thing to Dorothy Duncan to learn that a man was glad to come back to her, and she had long known that Campbell Crosby was desperately in love with her. But the little coquette had truly given her whole heart to Ernest Chapin, and since she had realized this she had no room in that really true and loyal little heart for even the shadow of any other man. But she could not change her innate spirit of coquetry, and so she flashed a meaning glance from her dark eyes to Crosby's, as she murmured, "Am I the real reason you're glad to be back?"
"Yes," said Crosby, coming a step nearer, and forcibly repressing a mad desire to take her in his arms; "and you know it, Dorothy!"
While not denying it, Dorothy assumed an expression of great gravity, and said pleadingly, "Don't look at me like that. Remember the real reason you are here—to help us find Justin. Oh, Mr. Crosby, where do you think he can be?"
"I don't care where he is," said Crosby, flinging discretion to the winds, "so long as he isn't here to forbid my looking at you."
Now, when Ernest Chapin said this sort of thing, Dorothy's heart was glad, however much she might pretend to be offended. But aside from the passing interest she felt in every man, she had no particular favor to show to Campbell Crosby. And so she frowned as she answered, "Please don't talk like that, Mr. Crosby. Do you know, I can't help thinking something has happened to Justin."
"Nonsense! He'll turn up at dinner-time, hungry as a hunter, and with a perfectly good explanation of where he's been and what he's been up to."
"Oh, do you think so!" cried Dorothy, and a great wave of relief passed over her. Somehow the assertion of this big lawyer man carried a sense of security and safety.
"It's an ill wind that blows nobody good," went on Crosby. "Gale and I have a most important
