he next,
and the next. Her heart smote her for the tardiness of her reparation;
but stronger than this was her fear of striking and missing fire. And at
last an idea came to her; an idea so big and beautiful that it first
startled and dazzled her, and then set her heart to singing; the perfect
idea which would blot away the whole miserable mess at one stroke. She
sat down and wrote Mr. Surface five lines, asking him to be kind enough
to call upon her in regard to the business matter about which he had
written her a few weeks before.

She wrote this note from her house, one night; she expected, of course,
that he would come there to see her; she had planned out exactly where
they were each to sit, and even large blocks of their conversation. But
the very next morning, before 10 o'clock, there came a knock upon the
Departmental door and he walked into her office, looking more
matter-of-fact and businesslike than she had ever seen him.

XXXII

_Second Meeting between a Citizen and the Great Pleasure-Dog
Behemoth, involving Plans for Two New Homes._

And this time they did not have to go into the hall to talk.

No sooner had the opening door revealed the face of young Mr. Surface
than Mr. Dayne, the kind-faced Secretary, reached hastily for his hat.
In the same breath with his "Come in" and "Good-morning," he was heard
to mention to the Assistant Secretary something about a little urgent
business downtown.

Mr. Dayne acted so promptly that he met the visitor on the very
threshold of the office. The clergyman held out his hand with a light in
his manly gray eye.

"I'm sincerely glad to see you, Mr. Queed, to have the chance--"

"Surface, please."

Mr. Dayne gave his hand an extra wring. "Mr. Surface, you did a splendid
thing. I'm glad of this chance to tell you so, and to beg your
forgiveness for having done you a grave injustice in my thoughts."

The young man stared at him. "I have nothing to forgive you for, Mr.
Dayne. In fact, I have no idea what you are talking about."

But Mr. Dayne did not enlighten him; in fact he was already walking
briskly down the hall. Clearly the man had business that would not brook
an instant's delay.

Hat in hand, the young man turned, plainly puzzled, and found himself
looking at a white-faced little girl who gave back his look with brave
steadiness.

"Do you think you can forgive me, too?" she asked in a very small
voice.

He came three steps forward, in