ss Betty's lashes fell, that one had found, at
last, a precious thing, lost long since in childhood, or left, perhaps,
upon some other planet in a life ten thousand years ago.

He could not speak at once, but when he could, "Permit me, madam," he
said solemnly, offering the captive, "to restore your kitten."

An agitated kitten should not be detained by clasping its waist, and
already the conqueror was paying for his victory. There ensued a final,
outrageous squirm of despair; two frantic claws, extended, drew one long
red mark across the stranger's wrist and another down the back of his
hand to the knuckles. They were good, hearty scratches, and the blood
followed the artist's lines rapidly; but of this the young man took no
note, for he knew that he was about to hear Miss Carewe's voice for the
first time.

"They say the best way to hold them," he observed, "is by the scruff of
the neck."

Beholding his wounds, suffered in her cause, she gave a pitying cry that
made his heart leap with the richness and sweetness of it. Catching the
kitten from him, she dropped it to the ground in such wise as to prove
nature's foresight most kind in cushioning the feet of cats.

"Ah! I didn't want it that much!"

"A cat in the hand is worth two nightingales in the bush," he said
boldly, and laughed. "I would shed more blood than that!"

Miss Betty blushed like a southern dawn, and started back from him. From
the convent but yesterday--and she had taken a man's hand in both of
hers!

It was to this tableau that the lady in blue entered, following the hunt
through the gates, where she stopped with a discomposed countenance. At
once, however, she advanced, and with a cry of greeting, enveloped Miss
Betty in a brief embrace, to the relief of the latter's confusion. It
was Fanchon Bareaud, now two years emancipated from St. Mary's, and far
gone in taffeta. With her lustreful light hair, absent blue eyes, and
her gentle voice, as small and pretty as her face and figure, it was not
too difficult to justify Crailey Gray's characterization of her as one
of those winsome baggages who had made an air of feminine helplessness
the fashion of the day.

It is a wicked thing that some women should kiss when a man is by; in
the present instance the gentleman became somewhat faint.

"I'm so glad--glad!" exclaimed Betty. "You were just coming to see me,
weren't you? My father is in the library. Let me--"

Miss Bareaud drew back. "No, no!" s