ric-a-brac. He
accepted a choice cigar--there were certain luxuries in which Don
Roberto never economised--and added his quota to the anecdotes of the
hearthstone. As his were fresh and the others as worn as an old
wedding-ring, it was not long before he had an audience which would
brook no interruption but applause.

A Chinaman brought a peremptory message from Mrs. Washington, and the
feet on the mantel were reduced to six. When these came down, two hours
later, Trennahan said to Don Roberto,--

"May I ride with Miss Yorba to-morrow before breakfast?"

"Yes; I no mind," said the don, beaming with approval of his new friend.
"But the boy, he go too. My daughter, no must ride alone with the
gentleman. And you no leave the grounds, remember."

XVI

When Magdalena went up to her room, she spread all her pretty gifts on
the table and asked herself if they were the secret of this novel
feeling of content with herself and her world. She studied the mirror
and fancied that she was not so plain as usual. Her eyes returned to her
presents, and she shook her head. Her mind worked slowly, but it worked
logically; nor was that imagination hers which keeps woman in a fool's
paradise long after all but the husk of her Adam has gone.

"It is Mr. Trennahan," she admitted reluctantly but ruthlessly. "He is
so clever and so agreeable--no, fascinating--that for the first time I
forgot myself, and when I remembered was not unhappy because I am not
beautiful nor clever. The world must be much nicer than I thought if
there are many people like that in it."

To love she did not give a thought, but she smiled to herself after the
light was out, and, still smiling, fell asleep.

The next morning she was downstairs by six o'clock, but found Trennahan
before her. As he approached her,--he had been sauntering up and down
the drive,--she wondered what he thought of her costume. As she was not
allowed to leave the grounds, a habit had never been thought necessary
for the heiress of the house of Yorba. She had worn for the past two
years one of her mother's discarded black skirts and a cotton blouse.
But it is doubtful if an inspired mind-reader could have made anything
of such thoughts as Trennahan wished to conceal.

"You look as fresh as the morning," he said, with a gallantry which was
mechanical, but true and delightful to a girl in her first experience of
compliments.

"Did you sleep well?" she asked. "I hope the mosquitoes