lse suggested that he was doing an irrational thing, she
flew up in arms. And now as he came into the dining-room his "Hello,
Nina!" was much as a brother's might have been, and he kissed Mrs.
Randolph's cheek.

"Will you have lunch, John?" she smiled up at him. "It is all cold by
now, I dare say!"

"No, thanks, I lunched downtown; but I'll sit here if I may." He picked
up a knife from the table and cut the string of a package he held in his
hand. "I brought you these, Nina. Have you read all of them?"

Nina finished a mouthful of nectarine and picked up the books one by
one.

No, she had not read any of them. So he went on to explain: he knew the
cowboy story was a corker, and another, of Arizona, described an Indian
fight in the Bad Lands that was capital. He did not know much about the
others, but the man at the shop had told him two were very funny; he had
bought the rest on account of their illustrations.

Nina laughed deliciously with real joy--she loved his selection, because
it seemed to express him.

"It was awfully sweet of you, Jack. And I shall adore them! I am so glad
you did not bring the regular selection of 'Walks in Rome.'"

"What I ought to have brought you," he answered, "was a big thick
journal--one of those padlocked ones--to write up Italian court life as
it really is. You mustn't miss such a chance! It could be published
after everybody mentioned in it, is dead, including yourself. Wouldn't
it be great!"

"You need not make fun of me. I don't think you half appreciate how
wonderful it is going to be," Nina returned enthusiastically. "Think of
it, I am going to live in a palace!"

Derby threw back his head and laughed.

"What do you call this house? It is a great deal more of a palace than
the tumble-down, musty ones of Italy."

Mrs. Randolph seemed enchanted with this rejoinder, for she laughed
rather exultantly as she exclaimed, "Nina will be ready enough to come
home at the end of a week!"

Instead of answering Nina jumped up from the table, calling "There you
are at last, Father darling!"

Her father, a man of distinguished presence, had come into the room
looking at his watch from force of habit. And though his eyes rested
upon his daughter with very evident pride and affection, the custom of
quickly terminated interviews and the economy of precious time gave a
sharp, decisive curtness to his manner. Every one who came in contact
with him felt the impelling necessity of coming