are so noisy."

"I am a ------ myself," said Miss Roberts, regarding him crushingly.

Hunt, of course, knew that, and had advisedly selected her denomination
for his strictures. But he replied as if a little confused by his
blunder:--

"I beg your pardon. You don't look like one."

"How do they usually look?" she asked sharply.

"Why, it is generally understood that they are rather vulgar, I believe,
but you, I am sure, look like a person of culture." He said this as if
he thought he were conveying a rather neat compliment. Indignant as she
was, Miss Roberts's strongest feeling was compassion for Annie, and she
bit her lips and made no reply.

After a moment's silence, Hunt asked her how she liked his goatee. It
was a new way of cutting his whiskers, and young ladies were generally
close observers and therefore good judges of such matters. Annie,
finding it impossible to keep up even the pretense of talking any
longer, sat helplessly staring at the floor, and waiting in nerveless
despair for what he would say next, fairly hating Lou because she did
not go.

"What's come over you, Annie?" asked Hunt briskly. "Are you talked out
so soon? I suppose she is holding back to give you a chance to make my
acquaintance, Miss Roberts, or do let me call you Lou. You must improve
your opportunity, for she will want to know your opinion of me. May I
hope it will prove not wholly unfavorable?" This last was with a killing
smile.

"I had no idea it was so late. We must be going," said Miss Roberts,
rising. She had been lingering, in the hope that something would happen
to leave a more pleasant impression of Hunt's appearance, but seeing
that matters were drifting from bad to worse, she hastened to break
off the painful scene. Annie rose silently without saying a word, and
avoided Lou's eyes as she kissed her good-by.

"Must you go?" Hunt said. "I 'm sure you would not be in such haste if
you knew how rarely it is that my engagements leave me free to devote
an evening to the ladies. You might call on Annie a dozen times and not
meet me."

As soon as the callers had gone, Hunt picked up the evening paper and
sat down to glance it over, remarking lightly as he did so:--

"Rather nice girl, your friend, though she does n't seem very
talkative."

Annie made no reply, and he looked up.

"What on earth are you staring at me in such an extraordinary manner
for?"

Was he then absolutely unconscious of the figure he had made