often." He regarded his friend with some anxiety.

"To meet her face to face will be a strange thing," he added. "Do you
think you can hide what you must feel? It will not be easy--even for me."

"It will not be easy for either of us--if she looks at us with Margery's
eyes. You will know them. Margery was happy, too, when the picture you
have seen was made."

That--to see her stand before them in her youth and beauty, all
unknowing--would be a strange thing, was the thought in the mind of each
as they walked through the streets together, the next evening. The flare
of an occasional street-lamp falling on Latimer's face revealed all its
story to his companion, though it might not have so revealed itself to
another. Baird himself was wondering how they should each bear themselves
throughout the meeting. She would be so wholly unconscious--this girl who
had always been happy and knew nothing of the past. To her they would be
but a middle-aged popular lecturer and his unattractive-looking
friend--while each to himself was a man concealing from her a secret.
They must eliminate it from their looks, their voices, their air. They
must be frank and courteous and conventional. Baird turned it all over in
his mind. When they reached the house the second-story windows were
lighted as if to welcome them. Matt opened the door for them, attired in
his best and bowing low. To receive such guests he felt to be an
important social event, which seemed to increase the chances of the claim
and point to a future when distinguished visitors would throng to a much
more imposing front door. He announced, with an air of state, that his
master and young mistress were "receivin'," and took ceremonious charge
of the callers. He had brushed his threadbare coat and polished each
brass button singly until it shone. An African imagination aided him to
feel the dignity of hospitality.

The sound of a girl's voice reached them as they went upstairs. They
glanced at each other involuntarily, and Latimer's breath was sharply
drawn. It was not the best preparation for calmness.

A glowing small fire was burning in the stove, and, plain and bare as the
room was, it was filled with the effect of brightness. Two beautiful
young people were laughing together over a book, and both rose and turned
eager faces towards the door. Big Tom rose, too, and, advancing to meet
the visitors, brought the girl with him.

She was built on long and supple lines, and had