spoken. They gave her something of a sensation.
Her companion followed her, watching, with a certain excitement of his
own, this tall, interesting-looking girl, dressed in her clear, crisp
muslin. He paused in the hall, where there was a broad white staircase
with a white balustrade. "What a pleasant house!" he said. "It 's
lighter inside than it is out."

"It 's pleasanter here," said Gertrude, and she led the way into the
parlor,--a high, clean, rather empty-looking room. Here they stood
looking at each other,--the young man smiling more than ever; Gertrude,
very serious, trying to smile.

"I don't believe you know my name," he said. "I am called Felix Young.
Your father is my uncle. My mother was his half sister, and older than
he."

"Yes," said Gertrude, "and she turned Roman Catholic and married in
Europe."

"I see you know," said the young man. "She married and she died. Your
father's family did n't like her husband. They called him a foreigner;
but he was not. My poor father was born in Sicily, but his parents were
American."

"In Sicily?" Gertrude murmured.

"It is true," said Felix Young, "that they had spent their lives in
Europe. But they were very patriotic. And so are we."

"And you are Sicilian," said Gertrude.

"Sicilian, no! Let 's see. I was born at a little place--a dear little
place--in France. My sister was born at Vienna."

"So you are French," said Gertrude.

"Heaven forbid!" cried the young man. Gertrude's eyes were fixed upon
him almost insistently. He began to laugh again. "I can easily be
French, if that will please you."

"You are a foreigner of some sort," said Gertrude.

"Of some sort--yes; I suppose so. But who can say of what sort? I don't
think we have ever had occasion to settle the question. You know
there are people like that. About their country, their religion, their
profession, they can't tell."

Gertrude stood there gazing; she had not asked him to sit down. She
had never heard of people like that; she wanted to hear. "Where do you
live?" she asked.

"They can't tell that, either!" said Felix. "I am afraid you will
think they are little better than vagabonds. I have lived
anywhere--everywhere. I really think I have lived in every city in
Europe." Gertrude gave a little long soft exhalation. It made the young
man smile at her again; and his smile made her blush a little. To take
refuge from blushing she asked him if, after his long walk, he was not
hungry or thi