ness of his callow
self, he gave way to laughter, his first spontaneous expression of
feeling since he entered the room.

"Upon my word, Persis," he cried gaily, using her name for the first
time and seemingly unconscious that he had done so. "It's been
extremely charitable of you to give this jay house-room for so long."
He scratched another match, lit his cigarette and laughed again. "I
wonder if I could have been such an unconscionable donkey as I looked."

Persis moved slightly in her chair, but failed to reassure him on that
point.

"We really wore our hair in that style, didn't we?" he continued
humorously. "And yet the thunderbolts spared us. And that classy
thing in ties! By jove! Persis, you'll have to make me a present of
this for old times' sake. This pretty picture of smiling innocence
gets on my nerves. I shall feel easier when it has been consigned to
the flames."

From the armchair Persis spoke. Her voice was low and distinct.

"Let that picture alone."

The accent of authority was unmistakable. Justin Ware turned, and
stood transfixed by what he saw. Persis' cheeks were crimson, her eyes
ablaze. His astonishment over the discovery that she was angry,
blended with surprised admiration. Persis in a fury was almost a
handsome woman.

He went back to his chair, a trifle uncertain as to the next move. He
had made a study of women, too, but this country dressmaker baffled him
for the moment. Her heated defense of his picture would have suggested
a conclusion flattering to his vanity had it not been for the
incongruous fact that seemingly her anger was directed against himself.
There was a piquant flavor to the situation gratifying to his epicure's
taste.

"It's good of you to stand up for the fellow, Persis. You always were
kind-hearted, I remember. But really isn't this stretching charity too
far? Such a Rube is meant to be laughed at. There's nothing else to
do with him. And to think that he and I were one only--let's see, how
many years has it been?"

"We won't talk about that picture any more."

He regarded her humorously through the haze of smoke. "And why not?"

"He's a friend of mine. I don't care to have him laughed at!"

"But you forget my relation to the gentleman, my dear Persis. If any
one should be sensitive, it surely is I."

"You've nothing to do with him," Persis declared, biting off her words
in peppery mouthfuls. "You're as much of a stranger to him as