She opened her dark eyes finally and smiled at Barbara.  “Come here, Barbara,” she commanded, pointing to a chair opposite her.

Bab looked at her beautiful hostess timidly, but her brown eyes were honest and clear.  “You sent for me?” Bab queried, sitting down very stiff and straight among the soft cushions.

“Of course I did,” Mrs. Wilson smiled.  “And I should have done so before, only you and I have both been too busy.  I am so glad you came to my tea to-day.”  Mrs. Wilson reached out her slender white hand and took hold of Barbara’s firm brown one.  “I want to make you a very humble apology,” she continued.  “I am very sorry that I was obliged to be away the other day when you called.  I left the envelope with Mr. Dillon.  I received your note yesterday, so I know that it was delivered into your hands.  I did not return until after seven o’clock the other night, so it was just as well you didn’t wait for me.  I knew I could trust Mr. Dillon to give it to you.”

The girl made no reply.  She did not dare raise her eyes to the other woman’s face for fear Mrs. Wilson would divine from their expression that Bab knew she had lied.  At the same time a thrill of consternation swept over her.  What had been Mrs. Wilson’s object in lending her the money?  Bab was now sure that the loan had not been made disinterestedly.  But what had Peter Dillon to do with it?  It looked very much as though Mrs. Wilson and the attache were playing a game, and were seeking to draw her into it.  She resolved at that moment that she would write to her mother for the money, or ask Ruth for it.  She would do anything rather than remain in Mrs. Wilson’s debt.  There was something about the intent way in which her hostess looked at her that aroused fresh suspicion in her mind.  Bab braced herself to hear what she knew instinctively was to follow.

“I am so glad I was able to help you,” Mrs. Wilson purred, continuing to watch the young girl intently.  “I know that you meant what you said when you declared that you hoped to some day be able to do some favor for me.  I did not think then that I should ever wish to take you at your word, but strange as it may seem, you are the very person I have been looking for to help me with a joke that I wish to play upon Mr. Hamlin.  You know, Mr. Hamlin is a very methodical man.  Well, I wagered him a dozen pairs of gloves, the other day, that he would misplace one of his beloved papers.  And I hope to win the wager.  What I wish you to do is to secure a certain paper from his desk and give it to me.  He will never know how I obtained it.  Of course I shall return it to him in a day or so, after he acknowledges his defeat and pays his wager.”

Barbara shook her head.  “I don’t think I can take any part in any such joke, Mrs. Wilson,” she said, looking appealingly at her hostess.  “You don’t really mean that you wish me to take one of Mr. Hamlin’s papers without his knowledge, and then give the paper to you?”