h," I ventured to remark.

"She's not coming to be amused," said Mrs. Hilary severely.

"All right; I'll come," said I, taking my hat.

"Here's the note for Miss Bannerman," said Mrs. Hilary.

That sort of thing never surprises me. I looked at the letter and read
"Miss M. E. Bannerman." "M. E." stood for "Maud Elizabeth." I put my hat
back on the table.

"What sort of a looking person is this Miss Bannerman?" I asked.

"Oh, a spare, upright woman--hair a little gray, and--I don't know
how to describe it--her face looks a little weather-beaten. She wears
glasses."

"Thank you," said I. "And what sort of a looking person am I?"

Mrs. Hilary looked scornful. Miss Phyllis opened her eyes.

"How old do I look, Miss Phyllis?" I asked.

"I don't know," she said uncomfortably.

"Guess," said I sternly.

"F-forty-three--oh, or forty-two?" she asked, with a timid upward
glance.

"When you've done your nonsense--" began Mrs. Hilary; but I laid a hand
on her arm.

"Should you call me fat?" I asked.

"Oh, no; not fat," said Mrs. Hilary, with a smile, which she strove to
render reassuring.

"I am undoubtedly bald," I observed.

"You're certainly bald," said Mrs. Hilary, with regretful candor.

I took my hat and remarked: "A man has a right to think of himself, but
I am not thinking mainly of myself. I shall not come to lunch."

"You said you would," cried Mrs. Hilary indignantly.

I poised the letter in my hand, reading again "Miss M(aud) E(lizabeth)
Bannerman." Miss Phyllis looked at me curiously, Mrs. Hilary
impatiently.

"Who knows," said I, "that I may not be a Romance--a Vanished Dream--a
Green Memory--an Oasis? A person who has the fortune to be an Oasis,
Miss Phyllis, should be very careful. I will not come to lunch."

"Do you mean that you used to know Miss Bannerman?" asked Mrs. Hilary in
her pleasant prosaic way.

It was a sin seventeen years old; it would hardly count against the
blameless Miss Bannerman now. "You may tell her when I'm gone," said I
to Miss Phyllis.

Miss Phyllis whispered in Mrs. Hilary's ear.

"Another?" cried Mrs. Hilary, aghast.

"It was the very first," said I, defending myself.

Mrs. Hilary began to laugh. I smoothed my hat.

"Tell her," said I, "that I remembered her very well."

"I shall do no such thing," said Mrs. Hilary.

"And tell her," I continued, "that I am still handsome."

"I shan't say a word about you," said Mrs. Hilary.

"Ah, well, that will be