s a third when you and he are
together--on moonlit nights and picnics, and so on, don't you know?"

Dorothy laughed, in spite of her discomfort, at this frank discussion
of her secret. "But this is inveterate match-making," she said. "Why
do you do it?"

"Oh, I think it would be a good thing. You both want it badly, and
you'd get on awfully well together. Besides, you're neither of you as
cheerful as you used to be, and I don't like it; it bothers me."

"It's very good of you to let it," said Dorothy, smiling.

"Not at all. And Elsie and I would have a settled home, too. It's
very funny; but sometimes I get tired of living in hotels."

"I'm sure you do," said Dorothy with sympathy.

"Well, have you got any idea how it can be worked?"

"No!" cried Dorothy, shocked, and flushing again; "I haven't! I
wouldn't have!"

"That's silly, when it would be such a good thing," said Tinker with a
disapproving air. "However, I suppose I can work it myself. I
generally have to when I want anything done."

"What are you going to do?" cried Dorothy in great alarm. "Oh, I do
wish I hadn't said anything, or listened to you!"

"I don't know what I'm going to do. These affairs of the heart are
always difficult," said Tinker with the air of a sage who has observed
many generations of unfortunate lovers.

"I won't have you do anything; I forbid it!" cried Dorothy.

"You shouldn't order your employer about," said Tinker with a smile
which, on any face less angelic, would have been a grin. "Besides, I'm
responsible, and I must do what's good for you. And, after all, I
shan't give you away, don't you know?"

"Oh, do be careful!" said Dorothy plaintively.

"I will," said Tinker; and he rose and sauntered off along the
promenade.

Dorothy looked after him with mingled feelings, dread of what he might
do, vexation, and a little shame that he should have so easily
surprised her secret; though, indeed, she preferred that Tinker should
have discovered it rather than anyone else in the world. Then her sure
knowledge of his discretion eased her anxiety, and the consideration of
his able imagination and versatile ingenuity set a new and strong hope
springing up in her.

Tinker strolled along to the Cafe du Printemps, and found his father
sitting before it on the usual uncomfortable little chair before the
usual white-topped table. He saw that his father's face wore the same
expression as Dorothy's had worn before he had