Williams news., 1917-10-25
CHAPTER VII.

B. herself admitted that she was always right: Lydia was very happy girl. She had, indeed, never been so happy since those memorable days when Cra- ven's rare, capricious, and always un- expected appearances in England had invariably signalized his amazing sprees of paternar indulgence-frolics from which, as from the nirvana of fairy tales, one emerged in childish de moralization to renew acquaintance with the hard and grimy facts of life as lived in Mrs. Grummle's Blooms bury lodging house, or with the chilly routine of the Misses Stint's Select Academy for Daughters of Gentlemen.
 She lived those days in delicious a1- citement. She would be strange girl of twenty had her imagination not quickened to the romance inherent in the words secret agent. To think her. self the object of stealthy surveillance, as daughter and confidante of a past master of devious diplomacy; to think she must ever keep her courage bright in the shadow of n1meless dangers, be forever jealous of the great secret, comport herself always warily-in these persuasions lay delight as deep and abiding as that of a girl playing the mischief at her first bal masque.
 Not infrequently she would catch Craven regarding her with his dark and quizzical smile; and then she would flush and smile spiritedly in re- turn, thrilled to think he read her thoughts and understood.
 One circumstance alone f1awed the perfect jewel of her happiness second and final disappearance of her sardonyx cameo.
 The first time Lydia had missed it it had turned up safe and sound be- fore bedtime in it's place on top of the chest of drawers. But the next day it vanished again and finally. And though for a time her hope ran high that the finder would return the trin- ket in view of the rather heavy re- ward posted by Craven, when noth- forced to accept the hypothesis that the clasp had worked loose when she had been lounging beside the rail, de livering the brooch to the sea.
 In her new relationship with her ia ther Lydia found several friendships that, however young, promised perma- hence.
 For one, Mrs. Beggarstaff had un- questionably taken a fancy to Lydia, which the girl was quick to divine and reciprocate with a frank and-if un- emonstrative-real affection. And the Dowager Dragon was daily vast ing D;uch time in amiable pickering with Craven about his daughters fu- | ture, openly discOuntenancing his in teptlon to make Lydia part of his me ngge; at least until there should be second Mrs. Craven to keep his house in order-and its master, into the bar gain.
 "Though," she once amended ac- ridly in the presence of Mrs. Merri- lees, "as for that, to my taste, Betty's altogether too frivolous to make a proper duenna. Mark my words, Tad, just as soon as that pretty feather weight head finds out life with you is not one round of pleasure, she's going to cut loose and lead you a dance that won't leave a breath in your fat little body. And then what will become of the child?"
 "Oh, blow your meddling!" Craven retorted with entire sood humor. You forget the 'child' is of age-or will be In another six months. She can take care of herself. If it turns out she can't, I give you permission to use your well-known arts of moral suasion and nag her until she's mad enough to hitch up as companion to a saw toothed destroyer of regulations like yourself"
 "She could do far worse," the Dow ager Dragon sniffed; land will-af l let you have your way"
 (Which is just what is going to hap