d her, without explaining why he had lagged.

"This," she said, as turning to the left they passed from the ball-room
into a small oval room the domed ceiling of which was all tenderly
bepainted with Cupids and garlands--"this is almost my favorite."

She set down her lamp on a table of rose-tinged marble, and dropped for
a minute on to a little rococo settee.

"The things in here we found just as you see them."

"So I imagined."

"All but the ornaments on the mantel."

"Very astute in me; I divined that, too."

"We liked it, so we left it. Pretty, ain't it? Oh, beg pardon!" She
blushed and looked at him sidelong, laughing. "That was a bad break!
That came mighty near to being the forbidden question how you like it.
All the same, it is pretty, _is it not_?"

"Extremely. Extremely pretty."

"There are going to be some tapestries presently. Oh, don't be afraid!
Not those old worsted things full of maggots, but beautiful new ones,
painted by hand, all in these same delicate colors. A story in four
scenes, one for each panel. The 'Fountain of Love' is the subject. It
sounds to me like something Biblical, Sunday-schoolish, but Mr. Hunt
says, no, _it is not_."

"Mr. Hunt--"

"The nephew, Charlie. You know him, don't you? He's getting them done
for me. He's a great friend of mine. He's helped me a lot to buy
things."

"Did he help you to buy the pictures?"

"Yes. He knows the dealers, and gets them to make fair prices. I think
it perfectly wonderful how cheap everything is over here. He helped me
to buy these, too." She lifted the chain of pink corals, graduated from
the size of a pea to that of a hazelnut, which with their delicate
living color brightened her winter dress. "I can't say, though," she
dropped, "that I found these particularly cheap. Hush!" she broke off.
"It's Hat! Quick!" she whispered, "let's get behind the door and say
'Boo!' as she comes in."

Amazingly, incredibly to him, this grown woman appeared about to
ensconce herself.

"But won't it make her jump?" he asked, supposing it to be Miss Madison
for whom the little surprise was intended.

"Of course it'll make her jump. No matter how often I do it, she jumps.
That's the fun."

"Mrs. Hawthorne, please!" he begged nervously. "As a very special favor
to me, don't! It would make me jump, too--horribly."

She stood listening while the footsteps turned away and faded
fruitlessly. With a look of disappointment, as at opportunity missed,
s