girl for six months. I met her in a gypsy caravan when on
a walking tour, and offered to paint her. She is down here with her
people, and you can see her whenever you have a mind to."

"There's no time like the present," said Miss Greeby, accepting the
offer with alacrity. "Come along, old boy." Then, when they stepped out
of the cottage garden on to the lawns, she asked pointedly, "What is her
name?"

"Chaldea."

"Nonsense. That is the name of the country."

"I never denied that, my dear girl. But Chaldea was born in the country
whence she takes her name. Down Mesopotamia way, I believe. These
gypsies wander far and wide, you know. She's very pretty, and has the
temper of the foul fiend himself. Only Kara can keep her in order."

"Who is Kara?"

"A Servian gypsy who plays the fiddle like an angel. He's a
crooked-backed, black-faced, hairy ape of a dwarf, but highly popular on
account of his music. Also, he's crazy about Chaldea, and loves her to
distraction."

"Does she love him?" Miss Greeby asked in her direct fashion.

"No," replied Lambert, coloring under his tan, and closed his lips
firmly. He was a very presentable figure of a man, as he walked beside
the unusually tall woman. His face was undeniably handsome in a fair
Saxon fashion, and his eyes were as blue as those of Miss Greeby
herself, while his complexion was much more delicate. In fact, she
considered that it was much too good a complexion for one of the male
sex, but admitted inwardly that its possessor was anything but
effeminate, when he had such a heavy jaw, such a firm chin, and such set
lips. Lambert, indeed, at first sight did indeed look so amiable, as to
appear for the moment quite weak; but danger always stiffened him into a
dangerous adversary, and his face when aroused was most unpleasantly
fierce. He walked with a military swing, his shoulders well set back and
his head crested like that of a striking serpent. A rough and warlike
life would have brought out his best points of endurance, capability to
plan and strike quickly, and iron decision; but the want of opportunity
and the enervating influences of civilized existence, made him a man of
possibilities. When time, and place, and chance offered he could act the
hero with the best; but lacking these things he remained innocuous like
gunpowder which has no spark to fire it.

Thinking of these things, Miss Greeby abandoned the subject of Chaldea,
and of her possible love for Lambert