Mr. Goodchild was frightened, but he said, blusteringly, "That will do,
you--er--_you_!"

He pointed toward the door, theatrically. But Hendrik put his fingers to
his lips and said "Hush, George!" and spoke to her again:

"Miss Goodchild, I am going to tell you the truth, which is a luxury
mighty rare in a bank president's private office, believe me."

She stared at him with a curiosity that was not far from fascination.
She saw a well-dressed, well-built, good-looking chap, with particularly
bright, understanding eyes, who was on such familiar terms with her
father that she wondered why he had never called.

"Let me say," he pursued, fervently, "without any hope of reward,
speaking very conservatively, that you are, without question, the most
beautiful girl in all the world! I have been nearly certain of it for
some time, but now I _know_. You are not only perfectly wonderful, but
wonderfully perfect--all of you! And now take a good look at me--"

"Yes; just before he is put away," interjected the president, trying to
treat tragedy humorously before this female of the species. But for the
fear of the newspapers, he would have rung for the private detective
whose business was to keep out cranks, bomb-throwing anarchists, and
those fellow-Christians who wished to pledge their word of honor as
collateral on time-loans of less than five dollars. But she thought this
friendly persiflage meant that the interesting young man was a social
equal as well as a person of veracity and excellent taste. So she smiled
non-committally. She was, alas, young!

"They will not put me away for thinking what I say," asserted Hendrik,
with such conviction that she blushed. Having done this, she smiled at
him directly, that there might be no wasted effort. Wasn't it spring,
and wasn't he young and fearless? And more than all that, wasn't he a
_novelty_, and she a New York woman?

"When you hear the name of Hendrik Rutgers, or see it in the newspapers,
remember it belongs to the man who thought you were the only perfectly
beautiful girl God ever made. And He has done pretty well at times, you
must admit."

With some people, both blasphemy and breakfast foods begin with a small
"b". The Only Perfect One thought he was a picturesque talker!

"Mr. Rutgers, I am sorry you must be going," said the president, with a
pleasant smile, having made up his mind that this young man was not only
crazy, but harmless--unless angered. "But you'll co