e young foreigner to her
brother than she had to Polly O'Neill. She had positively declined
having their friendship interfered with, and as Richard Ashton knew
nothing against him he was forced to yield to his sister's wish. Mrs.
Ashton entirely sympathized with Betty, and made no effort to hide her
pleasure in Carl von Reuter's attentions.

As the girl lay almost as if she were asleep in her big chair, now and
then opening her eyes to glance up at the deeply blue October sky, it
did not seem to her that her own obstinacy in this one particular was a
sufficient reason for Dick's dejection. And yet what other reason could
there be? He had promised to come home from Berlin earlier this
afternoon in order to escort them back again. And probably if Esther's
_debut_ was a tremendous success he might be made more cheerful.

And then in all probability Betty must have fallen asleep for about ten
minutes, because when next she opened her eyes, Dick was standing within
a few feet of her and some one else was beside him.

"Betty," she heard her brother's voice saying, "wake up, please, won't
you and speak to an old friend? For otherwise you would never guess in
half a lifetime who has arrived and come to me in Berlin today."

Making a tremendous effort to attain her usual dignity, Betty opened
wide her gray eyes, stared, tried to get up out of her chair, and then
finding her feet tangled in the blue shawl, stumbled and would have
fallen except for the newcomer's outstretched arm.

Yet even when he had restored her to her usual equilibrium she did not
immediately recognize their visitor, although she found herself looking
up into a pair of clear hazel eyes and at the strong, clean outline of a
typical American face. The young man must have been about twenty-three
or four years old. He had dark hair, resolutely forbidden to curl, and
curiously brilliant skin; but the contour of his face was almost too
lean and the expression of his lips and chin too set and firm for so
young a fellow.

"Miss Ashton," he began unsmilingly, "am I always to have to tell you
who I am each time we meet?"

And then, just as she had once several years before, Betty held out both
hands in a surprised and happy greeting.

"Why, it is Anthony Graham! But you must please forgive me, because how
in the world could I ever have dreamed of seeing you here? What in the
wide world has brought you to Germany?"

And as Anthony did not answer at once, Dick A