nt on to his most congenial topic--himself.

"You have heard of the Freiherr von Feuerstein, the great soldier?" he
asked her.

Lena had never heard of him. But she did not know who was German
Emperor or even who was President of the United States. She,
therefore, had to be extremely cautious. She nodded assent.

"My uncle," said Feuerstein impressively. His eyes became reflective.
"Strange!" he exclaimed in tender accents, soliloquizing--"strange
where romance will lead us. Instead of remaining at home, in ease and
luxury, here am I--an actor--a wanderer--roaming the earth in search of
the heart that Heaven intended should be wedded to mine." He fixed his
gaze upon Lena's fat face with the expression that had made Hilda's
soul fall down and worship. "And--I have found it!" He drew in and
expelled a vast breath. "At last! My soul is at rest."

Lena tried to look serious in imitation of him, but that was not her
way of expressing emotion. She made a brief struggle, then collapsed
into her own mode--a vain, delighted, giggling laugh.

"Why do you smile?" he asked sternly. He revolted from this discord to
his symphony.

She sobered with a frightened, deprecating look. "Don't mind me," she
pleaded. "Pa says I'm a fool. I was laughing because I'm happy.
You're such a sweet, romantic dream of a man."

Feuerstein was not particular either as to the quality or as to the
source of his vanity-food. He accepted Lena's offering with a
condescending nod and smile. They talked, or, rather, he talked and
she listened and giggled until lunch time. As the room began to fill,
they left and he walked home with her.

"You can come in," she said. "Pa won't be home to lunch to-day and ma
lets me do as I please."

The Gansers lived in East Eighty-first Street, in the regulation
twenty-five-foot brownstone house. And within, also, it was of a
familiar New York type. It was the home of the rich, vain ignoramus
who has not taste enough to know that those to whom he has trusted for
taste have shockingly betrayed him. Ganser had begun as a teamster for
a brewery and had grown rapidly rich late in life. He happened to be
elected president of a big Verein and so had got the notion that he was
a person of importance and attainments beyond his fellows. Too coarse
and narrow and ignorant to appreciate the elevated ideals of democracy,
he reverted to the European vulgarities of rank and show. He decided
that he owed