le impression.
In fact, the old gentleman seemed really smitten."

"That is quite possible," said Farnham. "But I hope you will not amuse
yourself by breaking his heart."

"I can't promise. He must look out for his own heart." She had regained
her saucy ease, and evidently enjoyed the turn the conversation was
taking. "I find my hands full taking care of myself."

"You are quite sure you can do that?"

"Certainly, sir!" This was said with pouting lips, half-shut eyes, the
head thrown back, the chin thrust forward, the whole face bright with
smiles of provoking defiance. "Do you doubt it, Monsieur?" She
pronounced this word Moshoor.

Farnham thought in his heart "You are about as fit to take care of
yourself as a plump pigeon at a shooting match." But he said to her,
"Perhaps you are right--only don't brag. It isn't lucky. I do not know
what are the chances about this place. You would do well to get some of
your friends to write a letter or two in your behalf, and I will see
what can be done at the next meeting of the Board."

But her returning fluency had warmed up Miss Maud's courage somewhat,
and instead of taking her leave she began again, blushingly, but still
boldly enough:

"There is something I would like much better than the library."

Farnham looked at her inquiringly. She did not hesitate in the least,
but pushed on energetically, "I have thought you must need a secretary.
I should be glad to serve you in that capacity."

The young man stared with amazement at this preposterous proposal. For
the first time, he asked himself if the girl's honest face could be the
ambush of a guileful heart; but he dismissed the doubt in an instant,
and said, simply:

"No, thank you. I am my own secretary, and have no reason for
displacing the present incumbent. The library will suit you better in
every respect."

In her embarrassment she began to feel for her glasses, which were
lying in her lap. Farnham picked up a small photograph from the table
near him, and said:

"Do you recognize this?"

"Yes," she said. "It is General Grant."

"It is a photograph of him, taken in Paris, which I received to-day.
May I ask a favor of you?"

"What is it?" she said, shyly.

"Stop wearing those glasses. They are of no use to you, and they will
injure your eyes."

Her face turned crimson. Without a word of reply she seized the glasses
and put them on, her eyes flashing fire. She then rose and threw her
shawl over her ar