open door a figure tall, fine and unheralded. It was that of Harriet Sanderson.
"Anybody at home?" she inquired gayly.
The unexpected visitor was looking very handsome and distinguished in a well-cut black coat and skirt, and a large hat too plain for fashion, but very far from démodé. She came into the room with that almost proprietary air she was never without in her intercourse with her own people. But it was about to suffer an eclipse.
Harriet just had time to greet her brother-in-law with a happy mingling of the bon camarade and the woman of the world, her fixed attitude towards such an Original, whom somehow she could not help liking and respecting, when her eyes met suddenly those of the fair canvasser.
For a moment an intense surprise forbade either to speak. But the people's champion was the first to overcome the shock.
"Mrs. Sanderson!" she exclaimed.
The change in Harriet was immediate and dramatic.
"Lady Muriel!" A slight flush of a fine face accompanied the tone of awe.
The visitor rose. And in the act of so doing an accession of great ladyhood, almost entirely absent a few minutes ago, seemed automatically to enter her manner.
"What a small world it is!" she laughed. "Fancy meeting you here!"
By now the iron will of the secretly annoyed and oddly discomposed Harriet was able to reassert itself.
"It is a small world, my lady." The tone was a very delicate mingling of aloofness and respect.
Brief explanations followed. These quickly cul-
