o portions of crab meat," he said to the waiter with pad and pencil
at attention.

"Oh, I don't want that much," she protested.

"You forget that I am hungry," rejoined he. "And when I am hungry, the
price of food begins to go up." He addressed himself to the waiter:
"After that a broiled grouse--with plenty of hominy--and grilled sweet
potatoes--and a salad of endive and hothouse tomatoes--and I know the
difference between hothouse tomatoes and the other kinds. Next--some
cheese--Coullomieres--yes, you have it--I got the steward to get it--and
toasted crackers--the round kind, not the square--and not the hard ones
that unsettle the teeth--and--what kind of ice, my dear?--or would you
prefer a fresh peach flambee?"

"Yes--I think so," said Dorothy.

"You hear, waiter?--and a bottle of--there's the head waiter--ask
him--he knows the champagne I like."

As Norman had talked, in the pleasant, insistent voice, the waiter had
roused from the air of mindless, mechanical sloth characteristic of the
New York waiter--unless and until a fee below his high expectation is
offered. When he said the final "very good, sir," it was with the accent
of real intelligence.

Dorothy was smiling, with the amusement of youth and inexperience. "What
a lot of trouble you took about it," said she.

He shrugged his shoulders. "Anything worth doing at all is worth taking
trouble about. You will see. We shall get results. The supper will be
the best this house can put together."

"You can have anything you want in this world, if you only can pay for
it," said she.

"That's what most people think," replied he. "But the truth is, the
paying is only a small part of the art of getting what one wants."

She glanced nervously at him. "I'm beginning to realize that I'm
dreadfully inexperienced," said she.

"There's nothing discouraging in that," said he. "Lack of experience can
be remedied. But not lack of judgment. It takes the great gift of
judgment to enable one to profit by mistakes, to decide what is the real
lesson of an experience."

"I'm afraid I haven't any judgment, either," confessed she.

"That remains to be seen."

She hesitated--ventured: "What do you think is my worst fault?"

He shook his head laughingly. "We are going to have a happy supper."

"Do you think I am very vain?" persisted she.

"Who's been telling you so?"

"Mr. Tetlow. He gave me an awful talking to, just before I--" She paused
at the edge of the forbid