vet muff, which now and again she raised
to her lips, as if to conceal her mirth. It was a graceful movement,
but an unnecessary one, for her laughter was of that charming kind,
which never gives offence; and, besides that, although it was
continuous, it was neither hearty enough nor frank enough to be
unbecoming the face was well under control. She stood there, with her
head slightly on one side, and the parted lips showed both rows of
small, even teeth; but the smile was unvarying, and, in spite of her
merriment, her eyes did not for an instant quit the young man's face,
as he darted to and fro.

Maurice could not help laughing himself, red and out of breath though
he was.

"Now for the last one," he said in German.

At these words she seemed more amused than ever. "I don't speak
German," she answered in English, with a strong American accent.

Having captured all the sheets, Maurice tried to arrange them for her.

"It's my Kayser," she explained with a quick, upward glance, adding the
next minute with a fresh ripple of laughter. "He's all to pieces."

"You have too much to carry," said Maurice. "On such a windy day, too."

"That's what Joan said--Joan is my sister," she continued. "But I guess
it's so cold this afternoon I had to bring a muff along. If my fingers
are stiff I can't play, and then Herr Becker is angry." But she laughed
again as she spoke, and it was plain that the master's wrath did not
exactly incite fear. "Joan always comes along, but to-day she's sick."

"Will you let me help you?" asked Maurice, and a moment later he was
walking at her side.

She handed over music and violin to him without a trace of hesitation;
and, as they went along the PROMENADE, she talked to him with as little
embarrassment as though they were old acquaintances. It was so kind of
him to help her, she thought; she couldn't imagine how she would ever
have got home without him, alone against the wind; and she was
perfectly sure he must be American--no one but an American would be so
nice. When Maurice denied this, she laughed very much indeed, and was
not sure, this being the case, whether she could like him or not; as a
rule, she didn't like English people; they were stiff and horrid, and
were always wanting either to be introduced or to shake hands. Here she
carried her muff up to her lips again, and her eyes shone mischievously
at him over the dark velvet. Maurice had never known anyone so easily
moved to laughter;