The other guest was Isabel, whom Doctor Jack had not met and of whom he knew nothing.  She observed him narrowly when opportunity offered, for she knew who he was, and wondered what he had heard of her.  Soon she became certain that her name carried no meaning to him, for he talked freely of Allison and the Colonel and frankly shared the joy of the twins at the welcome news.

“Oh,” cried Juliet, clapping her hands in glee.  “It’s the very best birthday present we could have, isn’t it, Romie?”

“I should say,” replied that young man, with an expansive smile.  “Say,” he added to Doctor Jack, “you must be a brick.”

“I’ve only done my best,” he responded, modestly.

Isabel could say nothing for some little time.  She was furiously angry with Aunt Francesca because she had not told her.  The day that Rose went away, everyone in the house had been very glad about something, even to the servants, but she had asked no questions and received no information, except that Rose had been obliged to go away very suddenly upon business of immediate importance.

“You must be awful glad,” said Juliet, to Isabel.

“Of course,” answered Isabel, coldly, clearing her throat.

“He must feel pretty good,” Romeo observed.

“Yes,” returned Doctor Jack, “except that he’s lost his girl.”

Isabel flushed and nervously turned on her finger the diamond ring that she still wore.

“He’s had fierce luck with girls,” resumed the Doctor, unthinkingly.  “One passed him up because he was hurt, and the other because he was going to get well.”

The tense silence that ensued indicated that he had made a mistake of some sort.  It had not occurred to him that the twins did not know of Allison’s engagement to Rose, nor did he suspect Isabel’s identity.

Juliet was staring at Isabel in pained surprise.  “Did you?” she asked, slowly, “throw him over because he got hurt?”

“He offered to release me,” said Isabel, in a small, cold voice, “and I accepted.  I did not know until just now that Cousin Rose had taken my leavings.”  The older woman’s mysterious departure presented itself to her now in a new light.

“Suffering Cyrus,” said Doctor Jack, aloud, “but I have put my foot into it.  Look here, kind friends, I never was meant for a parlour, and I always make mistakes when I stray into one.  My place is in a hospital ward or at the bedside of those who have been given up to die.  The complex social arena is not where I shine to my best advantage.  There are too many rings to keep track of at once, and my mind gets cross-eyed.”

“Come on up to the attic,” suggested Juliet, with a swift change of subject, “and we’ll do stunts on the trapeze.”

Isabel and Doctor Jack sat side by side on a battered old trunk in stony silence while the twins were donning their gymnasium costumes.  Fortunately, it did not take long and the sight of Juliet hanging by her feet furnished the needed topic of conversation.  The lithe little body seemed to be made of steel fibres.  She swayed back and forth, catching Romeo as he made a flying leap from the other trapeze, as easily as another girl would have wielded a tennis racquet.