ing mockingly.

"I said 'a man,' you observe, Miss Grace."

"Man includes woman, I believe, Mr. Moultrie."

"In two cases--yes."

"What are they?"

"When he holds her in his arms or in his heart."

Here was a sudden volley masked in music. Grace Plumer was charmed. She
looked at her companion. He had been "a vagabond" all winter in New York;
but there were few more presentable men. Moreover, she felt at home with
him as a _compatriot_. Yes, this would do very well.

Miss Grace Plumer had scarcely mentally installed Mr. Sligo Moultrie as
first flirter in her corps, when a face she remembered looked up at the
window from the street, more dangerous even than when she had seen it in
the spring. It was the face of Abel Newt, who raised his hat and bowed to
her with an admiration which he concealed that he took care to show.

The next moment he was in the room, perfectly _comme il faut_, sparkling,
resistless.

"My dear Miss Plumer, I knew spring was coming. I felt it as I approached
Bunker's. I said to Herbert Octoyne (he's off with the Shrimp; Papa
Shrimp was too much, he was so old that he was rank)--I said, either I
smell the grass sprouting in the Battery or I have a sensation of spring.
I raise my eyes--I see that it is not grass, but flowers. I recognize the
dear, delicious spring. I bow to Miss Plumer."

He tossed it airily off. It was audacious. It would have been outrageous,
except that the manner made it seem persiflage, and therefore allowable.
Grace Plumer blushed, bowed, smiled, and met his offered hand half-way.
Abel Newt knew perfectly what he was doing, and raised it respectfully,
bowed over it, kissed it.

"Moultrie, glad to see you. Miss Plumer, 'tis astonishing how this man
always knows the pleasant places. If I want to know where the best fruits
and the earliest flowers are, I ask Sligo Moultrie."

Mr. Moultrie bowed.

"The first rose of the year blooms in Mr. Moultrie's button-hole,"
continued Abel, who galloped on, laughing, and seating himself upon an
ottoman, so that his eyes were lower than the level of Grace Plumer's.

She smiled, and joined the hunt.

"He talks nothing but 'ladies' delights,'" said she.

"Yes--two other things, please, Miss Grace," said Moultrie.

"What, Mr. Moultrie, two other cases? You always have two more."

"Better two more than too much," struck in Abel, who saw that Miss Plumer
had put out her darling little foot from beneath her dress, and therefore
ha