Why?" he asked, after a moment.

"Why--what?"

"Why ought I to be glad I'm not a traveling salesman?"

"Oh, I don't know. It just seemed to me that you ought, that's all."

"But why?"

"Well, if you were you wouldn't make a great hit with your grandfather,
would you?"

"Eh? . . . Oh, you mean because I smoke. Say, YOU'RE not silly enough to
be down on cigarettes the way grandfather is, are you?"

"No-o, I'm not down on them, especially. I'm not very well acquainted
with them."

"Neither is he. He never smoked one in his life. It's just country
prejudice, that's all."

"Well, I live in the country, too, you know."

"Yes, but you're different."

"How do you know I am?"

"Oh, because any one can see you are." The manner in which this remark
was made, a manner implying a wide knowledge of humanity and a hint of
personal interest and discriminating appreciation, had been found quite
effective by the precocious young gentleman uttering it. With variations
to suit the case and the individual it had been pleasantly received by
several of the Misses Bradshaw's pupils. He followed it with another
equally tried and trustworthy.

"Say," he added, "would YOU rather I didn't smoke?"

The obvious reply should have been, "Oh, would you stop if I asked you
to?" But Helen Kendall was a most disconcerting girl. Instead of purring
a pleased recognition of the implied flattery, she laughed merrily. The
Speranza dignity was hurt.

"What is there to laugh at?" he demanded. "Are you laughing at me?"

The answer was as truthful as truth itself.

"Why, of course I am," she replied; and then completed his discomfiture
by adding, "Why should I care whether you smoke or not? You had better
ask your grandfather that question, I should think."

Now Alberto Miguel Carlos Speranza had not been accustomed to this sort
of treatment from young persons of the other sex, and he walked away in
a huff. But the unusual is always attractive, and the next time he and
Miss Kendall met he was as gracious and cordial as ever. But it was
not long before he learned that the graciousness was, in her case, a
mistake. Whenever he grew lofty, she took him down, laughed at him with
complete frankness, and refused to treat him as anything but a boy. So
they gradually grew friendly, and when they met at parties or church
socials he spent most of the time in her company, or, rather, he would
have so spent it had she permitted. But she was provokingly i