se and the remarkable face that fronted it. The
features were bold, the skin was clear and healthy and rather fair.
His eyes--gray or green blue and set neither prominently nor
retreatedly--seemed to be seeing and understanding all that was going
on about him. He had a strong, rather relentless mouth--the mouth of
men who make and compel sacrifices for their ambitions.
"Victor," cried Selma as soon as he was within easy range of her voice,
"please lend Miss Hastings a quarter." And she immediately sat down
and went to work again, with the incident dismissed from mind.
The young man--for he was plainly not far beyond thirty--halted and
regarded the young woman on the horse.
"I wish to give this young gentleman here a quarter," said Jane. "He
was very good about holding my horse."
The words were not spoken before the young gentleman darted across the
narrow street and into a yard hidden by masses of clematis, morning
glory and sweet peas. And Jane realized that she had wholly mistaken
the meaning of that hypnotic stare.
Victor laughed--the small figure, the vast clothes, the bare feet with
voluminous trousers about them made a ludicrous sight. "He doesn't
want it," said Victor. "Thank you just the same."
"But I want him to have it," said Jane.
With a significant unconscious glance at her costume Dorn said: "Those
costumes haven't reached our town yet."
"He did some work for me. I owe it to him."
"He's my sister's little boy," said Dorn, with his amiable, friendly
smile. "We mustn't start him in the bad way of expecting pay for
politeness."
Jane colored as if she had been rebuked, when in fact his tone forbade
the suggestion of rebuke. There was an unpleasant sparkle in her eyes
as she regarded the young man in the baggy suit, with the basket on his
arm. "I beg your pardon," said she coldly. "I naturally didn't know
your peculiar point of view."
"That's all right," said Dorn carelessly. "Thank you, and good day."
And with a polite raising of the hat and a manner of good humored
friendliness that showed how utterly unconscious he was of her being
offended at him, he hastened across the street and went in at the gate
where the boy had vanished. And Jane had the sense that he had
forgotten her. She glanced nervously up at the window to see whether
Selma Gordon was witnessing her humiliation--for so she regarded it.
But Selma was evidently lost in a world of her own. "She doesn't love
hi
|