lender, lithe young gentleman, with a keen face that
had an oddly wide but yet attractive mouth: a young man emanating an
essence of lightness both of body and of spirit. He might have been
the very person of agreeable, irresponsible Spring, if Spring is ever
of the male gender, out for a promenade.

It seemed most casual, the saunter of this pleasant idler; the keenest
observer would never have guessed purpose in his stroll. But never
for longer than an instant were the frank gray eyes of this young
gentleman away from the splendid stone steps, with their carved
balustrade, and the fine old doorway of Mrs. De Peyster's house at No.
13 Washington Square.

Presently he noted three men turn up Mrs. De Peyster's steps. Swiftly,
but without noticeable haste, he was across the street. The trio had
no more than touched the bell when he was beside them.

"What papers are you boys with?" he inquired easily, merging himself
at once with the party.

One man told him--and looked him up and down. "Thought I knew all the
fellows," added the speaker, a middle-aged man, "but never ran into
you before. What's your rag?"

"'Town Gossip,'" replied the agreeable young gentleman.

"'Town Gossip'!" The old reporter gave a grunt of contempt. "And
you've come to interview Mrs. De Peyster?"

"Yes."

"First time I ever knew that leprous scandal-scavenger and
black-hander to send a man out in the open to get a story." Evidently
the old reporter, whom the others addressed as "colonel," had by his
long service acquired the privilege of surly out-spokenness. "Thought
'Town Gossip' specialized in butlers and ladies' maids and such--or
faked up its dope in the office."

"This is something special." The young gentleman's smiling but
unpresuming _camaraderie_ seemed unruffled by the colonel's blunt
contempt, and though they all drew apart from him he seemed to be
untroubled by his journalistic ostracism.

The next moment the door was opened by a stout, short-breathed
woman, hat, jacket, and black gloves on. All stepped in. The three
late-arriving reporters, seeing in the reception-room beyond a group
of newspapermen about a servant,--Matilda making her first futile
effort to rid the house of this pestilential horde, generaled by Mr.
Mayfair,--started quickly toward the members of their fraternity. But
the young gentleman remained behind with their stout admitter.

"Huh--thought that was really your size--tackling a servant!"
commented th