s about to make a memorandum of some type
that had just attracted him, when a young man in a student's cap
twisted his head to get a closer view of the work of Gregg's pencil.

An intrusion of this kind from any one but a student would have been
instantly resented by Adam. Not so, however, with the young fellow at
his elbow; these were his wards, no matter where he met them.

"Come closer, my boy," said Gregg in a low voice. "You belong to the
Quartier, do you not?"

"Yes."

"Are you English?"

"No, an American. I am from Maryland."

"From Maryland, you say!" exclaimed Adam with a sudden start, closing
his sketch-book and slipping it into his pocket. The name always
brought with it a certain rush of blood to his cheek--why, he could
never tell. "How long have you been in Paris, my lad?" He had moved
back now so that the stranger could find a seat beside him.

"Only a few months, sir. I was in London for a time and then came over
here. I'm working at Julian's"--and the young fellow squeezed himself
into the chair Adam had pulled out for him.

"Are you from one of the cities?"

"No, from Montgomery County, sir."

"That's next to Frederick, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir."

Both question and answer set his pulses to beating. Instantly there
rushed into his mind the picture he never forgot--the figure in white
standing at the head of the porch steps. He recalled the long curl
that lay next her throat, the light in her eyes, the warm pressure of
her hand; the wealth of bursting blossoms, their perfume filling the
spring air. How many years had passed since he had ridden through
those Maryland orchards!

For some minutes Adam sat perfectly still, his eyes fixed on the line
of trees fringing the parapet of the Seine. The boy kept silent; it
was for the older man to speak first again. Soon an overwhelming,
irresistible desire to break through the reserve of years surged over
the painter. He could ask this lad questions he had never asked any
one before--not that he had ever had an opportunity, for he had seen
no one who knew, and he had determined never to write. Here was his
chance.

"Perhaps you can tell me about some of the old residents. I visited
your part of the State many years ago--in the spring, I remember--and
met a few of the people. What has become of Major Dorsey, Mr. Talbot
and"--there was a slight pause--"and Judge Colton?"

"I don't know, sir. I've heard my father speak of them, but I never
saw any o