"Then I will be more explicit. I am to receive a few friends at my home
on the evening of the nineteenth; will you be my guest?" Beth was
puzzled how to answer. The thought crossed her mind that perhaps Uncle
John would like her to be courteous to his friend's daughter, and that
argument decided her. She accepted the invitation.

"I want you to receive with me," continued Diana, rising. "In that way I
shall be able to introduce you to my friends."

Beth wondered at this condescension, but consented to receive. She was
annoyed to think how completely she had surrendered to the will of Miss
Von Taer, for whom she had conceived the same aversion she had for a
snake. She estimated Diana, society belle though she was, to be sly,
calculating and deceitful. Worse than all, she was decidedly clever, and
therefore dangerous. Nothing good could come of an acquaintance with
her, Beth was sure; yet she had pledged herself to meet her and her
friends the nineteenth, lit a formal society function. How much Beth De
Graf misjudged Diana Von Taer the future will determine. The interview
had tired Diana. As she reentered her carriage she was undecided whether
to go home or hunt up the third niece. But Willing Square was not five
minutes' drive from here, so she ordered the coachman to proceed there.

"I am positively out of my element in this affair," she told herself,
"for it is more difficult to cultivate these inexperienced girls than I
had thought. They are not exactly impossible, as I at first feared, but
they are so wholly unconventional as to be somewhat embarrassing as
_protégées_. Analyzing the two I have met--the majority--one strikes me
as being transparently affected and the other a stubborn, attractive
fool. They are equally untrained in diplomacy and unable to cover their