y pretensions."

She had brought Miss Van Harlem to see the shops. It may be that she
would not have been averse to Harry Lossing's growing interested in
young Margaret. She had seen a great deal of Harry while he was East at
school, and he remained her first favorite, while Margaret was as good
as she was pretty, and had half a million of dollars in her own right.
They had seen Harry, and he was showing them through the different
buildings or "shops," when a man entered who greeted him cordially, and
whom he presented to Mrs. Carriswood. It was Tommy Fitzmaurice, grown
into a handsome young man. He brought his heels together and made the
ladies a solemn bow. "Pleased to meet you, ladies; how do you like the
West?" said Tommy.

His black locks curled about his ears, which seemed rather small now;
he had a good nose and a mobile, clean-shaven face. His hands were very
white and soft, and the rim of linen above them was dazzling. His black
frock-coat was buttoned snugly about his slim waist. He brushed his face
with a fine silk handkerchief, and thereby diffused the fragrance of the
best imported cologne among the odors of wood and turpentine. A diamond
pin sparkled from his neckscarf. The truth is, he knew that the visitors
were coming and had made a state toilet. "He looks half like an actor
and half like a clergyman, and he IS all a politician," thought Mrs.
Carriswood; "I don't think I shall like him any more." While she
thought, she was inclining her slender neck toward him, and the gentlest
interest and pleasure beamed out of her beautiful, dark eyes.

"We like the West, but _I_ have liked it for ten years; this is not my
first visit," said Mrs. Carriswood.

"I have reason to be glad for that, madam. I never made another speech
so good."

He had remembered her; she laughed. "I had thought that you would
forget."

"How could I, when you have not changed at all?"

"But you have," says Mrs. Carriswood, hardly knowing whether to show the
young man his place or not.

"Yes, ma'am, naturally. But I have not learned how to make a speech
yet."

"Ah, but you make very good ones, Harry tells me."

"Much obliged, Harry. No, ma'am, Harry is a nice boy; but he doesn't
know. I know there is a lot to learn, and I guess a lot to unlearn; and
I feel all outside; I don't even know how to get at it. I have wished a
thousand times that I could talk with the lady who taught me to speak in
the first place." He walked on by he