he table, smile and pour your tea.
You'll do it, won't you? Say yes--of course you will!"

"But, my dear child, your father don't take boarders----"

"But he will if I ask him. I'll beg and tease him till he gives in."

"Oh, I couldn't think of letting you put him to all that trouble."

"But it wouldn't be any trouble. You see I'd keep house for you!"

"That would be very nice, dear, but I'm sure your father would draw the
line at a real boarder. I'd never have gotten this beautiful room with
that big old-fashioned open fireplace in your home if it hadn't
happened that our fathers fought each other in the war, and became
friends one day on a big battle-field. You see, my father took such a
liking to yours that I came straight to find him when I reached this
big town. It's been a second home to me."

"Be our boarder and I'll make it a real home for you, Jim!" she
pleaded.

"Ah!--you'll be making a real home some day for one of those boys I saw
at your birthday party--the tall dark one I think?"

"No. He doesn't measure up to my standard."

"What ails him?"

"He's a coward. My hero must be brave--for I'm timid."

"Then it will be that fat blond fellow with a jolly laugh?"

"No, he's a fibber. My Prince, when he comes, must be truthful. It's so
hard for me always to tell the truth."

"Then it will be that dreamy looking one of fifteen you danced with
twice?"

"No, he's too frail. My hero must be strong--for I am weak. And he must
have a big, noble ideal of life; for mine is very small--just a little
home nest, and a baby, and the love of one man!"

Stuart looked at her intently while a mist gathered in his eyes:

"I'm not sure about that being such a very small ideal, girlie!"

"But oh, my, I've forgotten what I came running home for! Papa sent me
to ask you to please come down to the factory right away. He wants to
see you on a very important matter. It must be awfully important. He
looked so worried. I don't think I ever saw him worried before."

"I'll go at once," Stuart said, closing the window and blowing a kiss
to the girl as he hurried down the stairs.

He strode rapidly across town toward the Bowery, through Fourth Street,
wondering what could have happened to break the accustomed good humour
of the doctor.

"Worry's something so utterly foreign to his character," the young
lawyer mused.

The doctor had long since retired from the practise of medicine as a
profession, and only used it now