A.O. was provoked that her visitor should show to such disadvantage even before this unknown lady who apparently was taking no notice of them.  But when he paused she could think of nothing to say herself for a moment or two.  Then, to break the silence which was growing painful, she plunged into an account of one of the last escapades of her wicked room-mate, whom she pictured as a most fascinating, but a desperately reckless creature.  It was funny, the way she told it, and it sent Jimmy off into a spasm of mirth.  But she would almost rather have bitten her tongue out than to have caused Jimmy to explode in that wild bray of a laugh.  He slapped his knee repeatedly, and doubled up as if he could laugh no longer, only to break out in a second bray, louder than the first.  It made the gentlemen in the other end of the room look around inquiringly.

A.O. was so mortified she could have cried.  Jimmy, feeling the instant change in her manner, and not able to account for it, grew self conscious and ill at ease.  The conversation flagged, and presently stopped for such a long time that the lady in black turned a slow glance in their direction.

Meanwhile, Mary Ware, up in the Domestic Science room, was anxiously watching a kettle which refused to come to the proper boiling point, where it could be safely left.  What was to be the last batch of her Christmas candy was in that kettle, for she had emptied the last pound of Mexican sugar into it.  If it wasn’t cooked exactly right it would turn to sugar again when it was cold, and not be of the proper consistency to hold the nuts together.  She did not know what effect it might have on the mixture to set it off the fire while she went down to receive her unknown visitor, and then bring it to the boiling point again after it had once grown cold.  She was afraid to run any risks.  If the watch-fob was to reach Jack on time, it would have to be started on its way in a few days, and on the success of this last lot of candy depended the getting of the last few dollars necessary to its purchase.  She wished that she had ordered more of the sugar in the first place.  There wouldn’t be time now.  She had twice as many orders as she had been able to fill.  It would have been so delightful to have gone shopping with a whole pocket full of money which she had earned herself.

She looked at the clock and then back again at the black-bordered card on the table.  “Mrs. Robertson Redmond.”  She had never heard of her.  Burning with curiosity, she tried to imagine what possible motive the stranger had for calling.  It was unpardonable that a mere school-girl should keep a lady waiting so long; a lady in mourning, too, who since she could not be making social calls, must have a very important reason for coming.  Fidgeting with impatience she bent over the kettle, testing the hot liquid once more by dropping a spoonful into a cup of cold water.  Still it refused to harden.  Finally with a despairing sigh she slipped off her apron and turned down the gas so low that only a thin blue circle of flame flickered under the kettle.  “In that way it can’t boil over and it can’t get cold,” she thought.  Then she washed her hands and hurried down to the drawing room.