ed way. He looked around, none of the pictures were missing,
nor had the statuary been removed. But Denning shouldn't have asked
the stranger into the reception-room.

Von Barwig ventured to say that he had an appointment. Mr. Joles
nodded.

"Oh, you have an appointment! Written?"

"No," replied Von Barwig.

"Oh, verbal? At what hour?" questioned Mr. Joles.

"Three," answered Von Barwig.

"Are you quite sure?" inquired Mr. Joles doubtfully. "I have received
no orders."

Von Barwig remained silent. What could he say? The man evidently
doubted his word.

"If you will please tell her," he said gently.

"I am not at all sure that Miss Stanton is in," said Mr. Joles, and he
stood there as if in doubt as to how to proceed. But any further
question as to Miss Stanton's being in or out was settled by the young
lady herself, who dashed into the room in evident haste.

"I beg your pardon, Herr Von Barwig; I forgot to leave word that you
were coming! Forgive me, won't you?" and she held out her hand to him
in such a friendly manner that it drew from the servant a faint apology.

"I beg your pardon, sir," he began.

"It's all right, Joles," said Miss Stanton, cutting him rather short.
She evidently did not value that gentleman's explanations very highly,
and took it for granted that Herr Von Barwig didn't care to hear them.
Joles bowed and left the room.

"Well! I'm right glad to see you. It's a long way up town, isn't it?"

Von Barwig nodded. He could not speak; he could only look at her.

"For me?" she asked as he held out the box of violets. "Oh, how kind,
how thoughtful!" she murmured, as he bowed in response to her question.
She opened the box. "Violets in winter are a luxury, you know!"

Von Barwig smiled with pleasure; he was almost too happy.

"I congratulate myself on having pleased you," he managed to say.

"Now do sit down and talk to me!" she said, placing a chair for him and
almost pushing him into it. He looked rather perplexed.

"I thought," he began.

"You surely didn't expect me to take a lesson to-day, did you?" she
said, and then she went on: "Oh dear me, no; not to-day! To-morrow.
Besides, my music room is upstairs; this is not my part of the house at
all. How about the little boy? When does he begin? Do you think he
has talent?"

Von Barwig looked bewildered. He had not only forgotten the
appointment he had made with the boy to hear him play, but he had
forgotten