ing the noon gatherings--his grandfather usually
got the morning mail--but he early formed the habit of sauntering "down
street" in the evening if the weather was not too cold or disagreeable.
There he was certain to find groups of South Harniss youth of both
sexes, talking, giggling, skylarking and flirting. Sometimes he joined
one or the other of these groups; quite as often he did not, but kept
aloof and by himself, for it may as well be acknowledged now, if it is
not already plain, that the son of Miguel Carlos Speranza had inherited
a share of his father's temperament and self-esteem. The whim of the
moment might lead him to favor these young people with his society, but
he was far from considering himself under obligation to do so. He had
not the least idea that he was in any way a snob, he would have hotly
resented being called one, but he accepted his estimate of his own worth
as something absolute and certain, to be taken for granted.

Now this attitude of mind had its dangers. Coupled with its possessor's
extraordinary good looks, it was fascinating to a large percentage of
the village girls. The Speranza eyes and the Speranza curls and nose
and chin were, when joined with the easy condescension of the Speranza
manner, a combination fatal to the susceptible. The South Harniss
"flappers," most of them, enthused over the new bookkeeper in the lumber
office. They ogled and giggled and gushed in his presence, and he was
tolerant or bored, just as he happened to be feeling at the moment. But
he never displayed a marked interest in any one of them, for the very
good reason that he had no such interest. To him they were merely girls,
nice enough in their way, perhaps, but that way not his. Most of the
town young fellows of his age he found had a "girl" and almost every
girl had a "fellow"; there was calf love in abundance, but he was a
different brand of veal.

However, a great man must amuse himself, and so he accepted invitations
to church socials and suppers and to an occasional dance or party. His
style of dancing was not that of South Harniss in the winter. It was
common enough at the hotel or the "tea house" in July and August when
the summer people were there, but not at the town hall at the Red Men's
Annual Ball in February. A fellow who could foxtrot as he could swept
all before him. Sam Thatcher, of last year's class in the high school,
but now clerking in the drug store, who had hitherto reigned as the bes