able from every point of view.
Jefferson had listened respectfully until his father had finished
and then grimly remarked that only one point of view had been
overlooked--his own. He did not care for Miss Roberts; he did not
think she really cared for him. The marriage was out of the
question. Whereupon Ryder, Sr., had fumed and raged, declaring
that Jefferson was opposing his will as he always did, and ending
with the threat that if his son married Shirley Rossmore without
his consent he would disinherit him.

Jefferson was cogitating on these incidents of the last few months
when suddenly a feminine voice which he quickly recognised called
out in English:

"Hello! Mr. Ryder."

He looked up and saw two ladies, one young, the other middle aged,
smiling at him from an open _fiacre_ which had drawn up to the
curb. Jefferson jumped from his seat, upsetting his chair and
startling two nervous Frenchmen in his hurry, and hastened out,
hat in hand.

"Why, Miss Rossmore, what are you doing out driving?" he asked.
"You know you and Mrs. Blake promised to dine with me to-night. I
was coming round to the hotel in a few moments."

Mrs. Blake was a younger sister of Shirley's mother. Her husband
had died a few years previously, leaving her a small income, and
when she had heard of her niece's contemplated trip to Europe she
had decided to come to Paris to meet her and incidentally to
chaperone her. The two women were stopping at the Grand Hotel
close by, while Jefferson had found accommodations at the Athenee.

Shirley explained. Her aunt wanted to go to the dressmaker's, and
she herself was most anxious to go to the Luxembourg Gardens to
hear the music. Would he take her? Then they could meet Mrs. Blake
at the hotel at seven o'clock and all go to dinner. Was he
willing?

Was he? Jefferson's face fairly glowed. He ran back to his table
on the _terrasse_ to settle for his Vermouth, astonished the
waiter by not stopping to notice the short change he gave him, and
rushed back to the carriage.

A dirty little Italian girl, shrewd enough to note the young man's
attention to the younger of the American women, wheedled up to the
carriage and thrust a bunch of flowers in Jefferson's face.

"_Achetez des fleurs, monsieur, pour la jolie dame?_"

Down went Jefferson's hand in his pocket and, filling the child's
hand with small silver, he flung the flowers in the carriage. Then
he turned inquiringly to Shirley for instructions s