d diner were upon her.

"What's the matter?" she asked, intercepting his glance.

"Do people always stare at you?" he inquired.

She swept the car with an indifferent glance.

"I don't know. I never noticed."

"It's queer for us to be going off like this," he said, in a startled
tone.

"It seems perfectly natural to me. Are you embarrassed?" she asked,
suddenly aware of a new quality in him.

"No, certainly not," he defended himself.

It was five o'clock when they drew into Grand Central Station, a time
when the whole duty of man seems to be to get out of New York and into
the suburbs. An army of ants ran through the great blue-vaulted rotunda,
streaming into the narrow tunnels, where the steel horses were puffing
and steaming. The sense of rushing waters was upon Jarvis. He halted,
stunned and helpless.

"Isn't it great? All the tribes of Shem, Ham, and Japhet," cried Bambi,
at his elbow. She piloted him through--big, powerful, bewildered Jarvis.
Many a hurrying suburbanite slowed up enough to look after them, the
tall, blond giant, and a little girl with shining eyes.

"Where are we going?" Jarvis asked, with child-like confidence that she
would know.

[Illustration: "GOOD EVENING, MRS. NEW YORK, AND ALL YOU PEOPLE OUT
THERE! WE'RE HERE, JARVIS AND I."]

"Gramercy Park. We'll put up at a club. We'll act rich and take a taxi."

She ordered the driver to go down the avenue slowly, and as he jolted
around the crowded corner of Forty-second Street, on to the smooth
asphalt, Bambi leaned forward eagerly.

"Good evening, home of the books," she nodded to the Library. "Good
evening, Mrs. New York, and all you people there! We're here, Jarvis
and I."

She turned and caught his rare smile.

"You're happy, aren't you?" he remarked.

"Perfectly. I feel as if I were breathing electricity. Don't you like
all these people?"

"No, I feel that there are too many of them. There should be half as
many, and better done. Until we learn not to breed like rabbits, we will
never accomplish a creditable race."

"Such good-looking rabbits though, Jarvis."

"Yes. Sleek and empty-headed."

"All hopping uptown, to nibble something," she chuckled.

"Life is such foolishness," he said, in disgust.

"Oh, no. Life is such ecstasy," she threw back at him, as the cab drew
up to the clubhouse door.

V

Bambi was out of bed and at her window the next morning early. Her room
faced on Gramercy Park, and the early morn