oat," explained the Boston Lamb, hastily. "We
know a first-year man named Freeman," he added, turning to her, "but
he's a wild and woolly Westerner, who'd never been off the plains of
Arizona till he came here. There may be others, but we're educating
only one."

"Oh, no," said the Cousin. "The Mr. Freeman I mean is the son of the
consul-general to Japan--he's a San Francisco man, and he's been
everywhere. We met him first in Cairo, and then we played together in
Yokohama, and came as far as Honolulu together, last spring. He
decided to study law in New York, and I know he lives up here
somewhere."

"Such a nice young fellow!" contributed the Aunt.

"Don't know him," said the flock.

"We'll ask the Goat about him," suggested the Philadelphia Lamb.

"We've been so engrossed with our own pet Freeman that we haven't had
time for any other," volunteered the Brookline Lamb.

"It's rather strange," began the Cousin, and then interrupted herself.
"Anyway, I hope you'll all look him up; I am sure he will be very
grateful." The flock acknowledged the bouquet by appropriate
demonstrations.

"Our acquaintance with his namesake verges on the altruistic, also,"
ventured the Albany Lamb.

"I should not like, myself, to be the victim of your altruism," said
the Cousin, with a slow glance that took them all in. In the midst of
the delighted expostulations that greeted this shot, the apartment
bell rang sharply. The Brookline Lamb, being nearest, went to open the
door, and, having opened it, remarked in a subdued but unmistakably
sincere manner:

"Well, I'll be----" A saving recollection of the Cousin and the Aunt
brought him to a full stop there, but everybody looked up, and for a
moment the flock was speechless. Not so the Goat, for it was the Goat
who stood there, arrayed in the afternoon panoply of advanced
civilization, with a cigarette between his fingers and the neatest of
sticks under his arm.

"Beg pardon!" he said. "Didn't realize--regret exceedingly--should
never have intruded--why, Miss Brewster!" And with an instant
combination of high hat, stick and cigarette that showed much
practice, he came in to shake hands with the Cousin, who, suddenly
displaying a brilliant color, had risen and taken a step toward him.

"What luck! what bully good luck!" he went on. "Mrs. Brewster, how do
you do? This is like old Cairo days. Boston, you brute, why didn't you
mention this at luncheon?"

The flock choked; this was fro