he decided
that he was a delightful, original young man, and in ten minutes they
were talking in the same odd confidence that had always marked their
relation.

"How perfectly you are gotten up! Are you INSIDE, now?"

"Ah, do you remember that?" said he; "that's awfully good of you. Which
is so fortunate as to please you, my clothes or my deportment?"

"Both. They are very good. Where did you get them, Tommy? I shall take
the privilege of my age and call you Tommy."

"Thank you. The clothes? Oh, I asked Harry for the proper thing, and he
recommended a tailor. I think Harry gave me the manners, too."

"And your new principles?" She could not resist this little fling.

"I owe a great deal in that way to Harry, also," answered he, with
gravity.

Gone were the days of sarcastic ridicule, of visionary politics.
Tommy talked of the civil service in the tone of Harry himself. He was
actually eloquent.

"Why, Aunt Margaret, he is a remarkable young man," exclaimed Miss Van
Harlem; "his honesty and enthusiasm are refreshing in this pessimist
place. I hope he will come again. Did you notice what lovely eyes he
has?"

Before long it was not pure good-nature that caused Mrs. Carriswood to
ask Fitzmaurice to her house. He was known as a rising young man, One
met him at the best houses; yet he was a prodigious worker, and had made
his mark in committees, before the celebrated speech that sent him into
all the newspaper columns, or that stubborn and infinitely versatile
fight against odds which inspired the artist of PUCK.

Tommy bore the cartoon to Mrs. Carriswood, beaming. She had not seen
that light in his face since the memorable June afternoon in the
Opera-house. He sent the paper to his mother, who vowed the picture "did
not favor Tommy at all, at all. Sure Tommy never had such a red nose!"
The old man, however, went to his ex-saloon, and sat in state all the
morning, showing Tommy's funny picture.

It was about this time that Mrs. Carriswood observed something that took
her breath away: Tommy Fitzmaurice had the presumption to be attentive
to my lady's goddaughter, Miss Van Harlem. Nor was this the worst; there
were indications that Miss Van Harlem, who had refused the noble names
and titles of two or three continental nobles, and the noble name
unaccompanied by a title of the younger son of an English earl, without
mentioning the half-dozen "nice" American claimants--Miss Van Harlem was
not angry.

The day this