the least; and the two thin girls had remarked that it must be so
"perfectly blissful" to get home; and the young lawyer had complimented
her on her wonderful, almost life-like resemblance to her grand-father,
whose portrait hung in the court-house--and which was nearer the
truth--to all of which the young girl replied in her most gracious
tones, thanking them for their kindness in coming to see her and for
welcoming her so cordially--the whole of Lucy's mind once more reverted
to Bart.

Indeed, the several lobes of her brain had been working in opposition
for the past hour. While one-half of her mind was concocting polite
speeches for her guests the other was absorbed in the fear that Bart
would either get tired of waiting for her return and leave the sofa, or
that some other girl friend of his would claim him and her delightful
talk be at an end.

To the young girl fresh from school Bart represented the only thing in
the room that was entirely alive. The others talked platitudes and
themselves. He had encouraged her to talk of HERSELF and of the things
she liked. He had, too, about him an assurance and dominating
personality which, although it made her a little afraid of him, only
added to his attractiveness.

While she stood wondering how many times the white-haired young lawyer
would tell her it was so nice to have her back, she felt a slight
pressure on her arm and turned to face Bart.

"You are wanted, please, Miss Lucy; may I offer you my arm? Excuse me,
Bunsby--I'll give her to you again in a minute."

Lucy slipped her arm into Bart's, and asked simply, "What for?"

"To finish our talk, of course. Do you suppose I'm going to let that
tow-head monopolize you?" he answered, pressing her arm closer to his
side with his own.

Lucy laughed and tapped Bart with her fan in rebuke, and then there
followed a bit of coquetry in which the young girl declared that he was
"too mean for anything, and that she'd never seen anybody so conceited,
and if he only knew, she might really prefer the 'tow head' to his
own;" to which Bart answered that his only excuse was that he was so
lonely he was nearly dead, and that he had only come to save his
life--the whole affair culminating in his conducting her back to the
sofa with a great flourish and again seating himself beside her.

"I've been watching you," he began when he had made her comfortable
with a small cushion behind her shoulders and another for her pretty
feet.