moonlight, while I read Walter Pater in the library Morris chair. That's an epitome of his visit! But what made him want to go away? There's only one answer to all of these questions, dear."

"What do you mean?"

Miss Kirby took her mother's hand with sudden and playful tenderness. "Oh, little mother, can't you guess? And you a Southern girl! How shamefully stupid!"

"Oh!" Mrs. Kirby turned scarlet to the roots of her hair, but her daughter refused to release her hand.

"Now do you wonder why he rushed off, poor man?”

"Joan, it's impossible!" But Mrs. Kirby's dimples proved that it was very possible indeed. Then she added, with virtuous and vague indignation, "How perfectly horrid of him!"

"My dear, he couldn't help it!" answered her daughter, conclusively. "Any more than I could if I'd been in his place. You know you are perfectly irresistible, and when he found out that you were the same Marian Lee, who set Baltimore by the ears twenty years ago—” "Joan!"

"-he's not to be blamed for 'renewing his acquaintance,' as you so delicately put it."

"Joan, you mustn't!"

"Come, dear, you can't help smiling. You know you are pleased. Well, I suppose it is a triumph for a woman to snatch the hard-won laurels from her daughter's brow! Of course, if I really cared about them, it would be very pathetic. But I don't, so it's all right. Now let's plan."

"Plan ?"

"Yes.

letter-"

I shall write him to-night,-a nice, cordial, daughterly

"My dear!"

"Oh, not so that he'd notice it! Then I shall go to Europe in August, with the Merrills, as we decided before. But you're not going, you'll stay at home, Mr. Hardwick will make another visit and―! Now isn't that the most tactful campaign imaginable?"

"Joan, it's-it's positively indecent !"

"Now, honey, don't you say a word. Just let me manage it to suit myself."

"But what will people say?"

"Nobody knows anything about our end of it, and they've all been expecting it of you for ten years or so. It's nice to satisfy one's friends occasionally."

"Jimmy knows."

"I-I don't think Jimmy will mind much."

"Joan!" Mrs. Kirby turned expectantly to meet her daughter's eye. "I understand at last! What an idiot I've been!"

"No more than I, little mother.-Oh, here we are at the station, I'd quite forgotten."

III.

Jimmy Blake had chosen St. Hubert's Inn as the scene of his luncheon. It is an airy place on the top floor of a sky-scraper, far above the smoke and mire of the city. Only blue sky and blue lake are seen from its diamond-paned windows, and next to one of these, under a pair of gigantic antlers, sat Mrs. Kirby, her daughter and their host. A fourth place was laid for the man who had been called to Philadelphia on business. Jimmy mentioned it again after the porterhouse had been removed, and the Burgundy poured for the second time.

"It's awfully lonesome, not having Mr. Hardwick here, isn't it? I did so want to meet him, ever since you told me, Joan. If I hadn't been due over in Cleveland that Sunday I should have come up in a minute."

Miss Kirby telegraphed a long message to her mother in one glance. "Yes, we were so sorry. But suppose you come up next Sunday, Jimmy. I haven't seen anything of you since you've been back."

"O come, Joan, you know you haven't missed me! Won't you please make the dressing? I always thought yours was the best ever." "Thanks. Let me see, you like plenty of paprika, don't you?— What about next Sunday?"

"I'm sorry-terribly sorry, but I'm going back to Cleveland. I run down nearly every week-end to see these friends.”

"How annoying!" said Mrs. Kirby, glancing at her daughter, who was carefully measuring vinegar with her head bent. "And you only arranged this luncheon to-day in order to meet Mr. Hardwick! I think we're being slighted!"

"Not entirely to meet Mr. Hardwick, much as I wanted to. I—I have something to tell you!"

"How thrilling! What?"

"I've brought you here for the express purpose of-of-I declare, I'm getting fussed!"

"You mean-"

"Yes, I'm engaged, too! Congratulate me!" and Jimmy held a hand to each over the table.

"You! engaged already! Why, to whom?" Mrs. Kirby's voice was positively breathless.

"To Hilda Travis. She lives in Cleveland. I met her at the Dean's house-party in May. Oh, Joan! wait till you see her! She's the dearest little thing that ever breathed-and pretty-! I am just the happiest man alive!"

"I'm so glad-so glad!" said Miss Kirby, heartily.

"I knew you'd understand—and then you were so nice about telling me yours, I couldn't refrain from whispering the glad news. Just think, Joan, of our both being engaged! Doesn't it seem funny to be staid and dignified, and all the rest of it? To have our salad days really and truly over?"

Miss Kirby smoothed back her hair with an uncertain laugh. "Yes, doesn't it?" she agreed. "They were so short. Mother, let me give you some more cucumbers? No?-How about you, Jimmy?"

"Thanks, not any. Take some more yourself, Joan, we'll wait for you. The dressing was bully!"

"They're delicious, but I've had all I care for. Do you remember how I loved cucumbers when I was young? You and I used to steal them from the garden, didn't we?"

"When you were young!" said Jimmy, affectionately. "Well, what are you now, may I ask?"

She smiled a queer little smile and put her hand in her mother's. "I never knew a girl of twenty-two could feel so old!"

Paul Ainslee Anderson.

TO A. E. HOUSMAN.

For "The Shropshire Lad."

I know a little Shropshire lad;-
He's half-way gay, and half-way sad.

He whistles of the lasting sleep,
A melody to hear and keep,
Beguiling me the little while

I've need to sigh-and chance to smile,

And whistles, next, of many things

That each unhappy waking brings,

Until I've half forgotten why

I've need to smile and chance to sigh.

You see, he's always, gay or sad,

A friendly little Shropshire lad.

Witter Bynner.