“All right,—­let’s talk about the ‘Star of the West,’” cried the irrepressible Ray Gale.  “Now the secret’s out, there’s no harm in mentioning it.  You must see that picture, Farnsworth, and then you’ll be begging Azalea to go back to screen work!”

“Never,” said Azalea, her face shining with happiness that she was forgiven and reinstated in general favour, “I’ve had my lesson.  No more films for me!  From now on, I’m going to be goody-girl,—­and behave like nice ladies,—­like Patty and Betty—­and Elise.”

The slight hesitation before the last name made Elise bite her lip in chagrin, for she had seen that her attack on Azalea was not approved of by most of the audience.

Poor Elise was of an unfortunate disposition, and envy and jealousy were her besetting sins.  She had never liked Azalea for the reason that the Western girl, with her frank, untutored ways, often usurped Elise’s place in the limelight, and Miss Farrington greatly objected to that.

It was with malicious purpose that Elise had brought up the subject of the sampler, and when she found it passed over as of little moment, she was angry at herself for having raised the question at all.

“Don’t try to be like me,” she said, with an acid smile at Azalea; “if you do, nobody will like you.”

“Oh, come, now, Elise,” said Farnsworth, laughing at this tempest in a teapot, “play fair.  We all like you, and we all like Azalea, whether she models herself on you or not; so let’s all love one another,—­and let it go at that!”

“Yes,” said Patty, “and now, my fellow lovers and loveresses, I must take my small daughter in and send her to sleepy-by, and the rest of you have just about half an hour before it’s time to dress for dinner.  The two Gales may consider themselves invited,—­if they will honour us.”

“Delighted,” replied Betty, “though not overwhelmingly surprised at the invitation.  Howsumever, we must fly back home for some purple and fine linen, and then we’ll return anon.  I’m usually returning here, anon!  I wonder what I ever did, Patty, before you came here to live as our hospitable neighbours!”

“There’s half an hour, Azalea,” said Van Reypen, “come for a toddle down to the brook, and let’s talk things over.”

The two started off, and for a few moments walked along in silence.

Azalea was in a quiet, chastened mood,—­a side of her character that Phil had never before seen, and he noted with pleasure the gentle sweetness of her face and the soft tones of her voice.

“It woke me up,” she said, reminiscently, “when that man tried to take Fleurette from my arms.  I would have fought him like a tiger if I hadn’t suddenly realised that the way to fix him was by strategy.  I just happened to think that by means of the record I could fool him into believing we were in the library, when really we were flying to refuge.  I knew he wouldn’t come in as long as he felt sure we were there, for he was watching out for the Farnsworths’ return.  So, I tried the scheme, and it worked!”