"My study," Lilas laughed, shortly. "That's where I improve my
mind--not. The books are deadly. Now come; Hitchy Koo must have
dinner ready. His name isn't Hitchy Koo, but it sounds like it,
and he's 'the cutest little thing; got the cutest little swing.'"
She moved down the hall humming the chorus of the senseless
popular song from which she had quoted.

Everywhere was the same evidence of good taste in decoration and
luxury of equipment, but a suspicion had entered Lorelei's mind,
and she avoided comment. Hitchy Koo was cook, butler, and house-
boy, and in view of Miss Lynn's disorderly habits it was evident
that he had all he could do to keep the place presentable. His
mistress possessed that faculty of disarrangement so common in
stage-women; wherever she went she left confusion behind; she was
careless to the point of destruction, and charred marks upon the
handsome sideboard and table showed where glowing cigarette stumps
had suffered a negligent demise. The spaniel was allowed to worry
bits of food that left marks on the rug; his owner ate without
appetite and in a hypercritical mood that took no account of the
wasteful attempts to please her. Quite regardless of the patient
little Jap, she alternately found fault with him and discussed
with her guest matters of so frank a nature that Lorelei was often
painfully embarrassed.

"So, you like my home, do you?" she queried, after a time.

"I've never seen one so beautiful."

Lilas nodded. "Hitchy sleeps out, and that leaves me the whole