if to shake hands, but as there was no corresponding move on Miss Dott's
part, he put his hand in his pocket instead.

"That evening--the evening of the college dance--is one of my
pleasantest recollections," he observed. "I made some delightful
acquaintances there. I am ashamed to say that I have forgotten the names
of the young ladies, but forgetfulness is one of my failings."

"He meets so many people," cut in Serena, by way of apology.

Gertrude smiled. There was a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

"I'm sure he hasn't forgotten us all," she declared. "He could not be so
ungallant as that."

"He didn't forget you, anyway," declared Daniel. "He knew your
photograph just as soon as he laid eyes on it."

"Oh, thank you, Daddy. You've saved my self-respect. But I was not
referring to myself. There are others whom I am sure Mr. Hungerford has
not forgotten. Isn't that true, Mr. Hungerford?"

Cousin Percy appeared somewhat disconcerted.

"Why," he stammered, "I don't understand. I can't recollect--"

"Can't you! Oh, that is dreadful! Do you correspond with so many young
ladies that you can't remember their identity? Oh! oh! and Margaret was
SO proud of those letters! Really, Mr. Hungerford!"

She shook her head. Her eyes were brimming over with fun. Cousin
Percy's cheeks had lost something of their aristocratic pallor. Margaret
Babcock, the daughter of a well known glass manufacturer, had been one
of the list of feminine acquaintances whom he had honored with long
distance familiarity. She was an impressionable young person and her
papa was very wealthy. The correspondence had broken off when her
mother discovered one of the letters. Mrs. Babcock had definite views
concerning her daughter's future, and Mr. Hungerford was not included in
the perspective. The latter had forgotten, for the moment, that he met
Miss Babcock at the college dance; therefore he was confused.

But the confusion was short-lived. He recovered quickly.

"I BEG your pardon, Miss Dott," he said with a laugh. "I had forgotten
Miss Babcock. Poor Margaret! She was of an age when letters, especially
masculine letters, are delightfully wicked. Forbidden fruit, you know.
She asked me to write, and I was foolish enough to do so. I presume my
humble epistles furnished harmless amusement for the class. Very glad to
have contributed, I'm sure."

"You did contribute. We all enjoyed them so much--especially Margaret.
She is a year older than I, Mr. H