her room as plainly as though looking through the door--saw her assume
the garb of a Sister--saw her try on that horrible face-mask before a
mirror, and realized that the clever actress, Pauline Potter, was about
to again undertake some quixotic crusade in the furtherance of her plans.

"Later on, Aunt Gwen came and said we had better go outside to hear
the music and see the crowd, so I came, but all the while I had been
puzzling my brain wondering what she hoped to accomplish with that
clever disguise, nor did the truth break in upon my mind until we
discovered her talking to Doctor Chicago. Then I comprehended all."

"And I am again indebted to your clever woman's wit," he says, warmly.

"Who can tell from what dreadful fate I saved you," she laughs; "for
this same Pauline seems determined that you shall not remain a merry
bachelor all your days."

"So far as that is concerned, I quite agree with Pauline. Where we
differ is upon the subject that shall be the cause of my becoming a
Benedict. She chooses one person, and I chance to prefer another. That
is all, but it is quite enough, as you have seen, Lady Ruth, to create
a tempest in a tea-pot."

"Here we are at the hotel," she hastens to say, as if fearing lest he
push the subject then and there to a more legitimate conclusion, for she
has learned that these Chicago young men generally get there when they
start; "and I am not sorry for one. Look around you, doctor!"

This he does for the first time, and is startled to discover that
they have been accompanied across the square by at least half a dozen