elight opening before him. He will take Violet
away somewhere,--to Europe, perhaps, when Gertrude and the professor
go. She is such a simple child, she needs training and experience and
years. Youth is sweet, but it is not the time of ripeness.

Madame Lepelletier is on the shaded porch, sitting in a hammock; a
scarlet cushion embroidered with yellow jasmine supports her head and
shoulders, and her daintily slippered feet rest on a soft Persian rug.

"Ah," she says, holding out her hand, but she does not rise, and he has
to bend over to take it. "Sit here," and she reaches out to the willow
chair, "unless you would prefer going within. I am living out of doors,
taking in the summer fragrance and warmth for the coming winter."

"O provident woman!" and he laughs, as he seats himself beside her.

She makes such a lovely picture here in the waving green gloom, with
specks of sunshine filtered about, the cushion being the one brilliant
mass of color that seems to throw up her shining black hair and dusky,
large-lidded eyes. There is a suggestion of affluent orientalism that
attracts strongly.

"Well, are blessings so numerous that one can throw them aside
broadcast? Do we not need such visions as these to take us through the
ice and snow and gray skies of a stinging winter day?"

"With your house at eighty degrees and tropical plants in every
corner?"

"You are resolved not to approve of my laying up treasure. I breathe
delight with every waft of fragrance, and though you may not believe
it, the natural has a charm for me. I have been slowly studying it for
a year. Is it a symptom of second childhood,--this love of olden
pleasures, this longing to retrace?" and she raises her slow-moving
eyes, letting them rest a moment on his face.

"Hardly, in your case," and he smiles.

She likes him to study her as he is gravely doing now. She has not
posed for him, and yet she thought of him when she came out and settled
herself.

"I have a favor to ask," he says, presently, and it would sound abrupt
if the voice were less finely modulated.

"I am in a mood which is either indolent or generous. Try me."

Floyd Grandon prefers his request. It is never any direct aid or
benefit to himself. Has this man no little friendly needs?

"Of course," she says. "Then I shall be sure of you as a spectator of
the pageant. I was not at all certain you would honor me, since Mrs.
Grandon does not participate in Germans."

"But I think