they pretty?" she said.

"They are very pretty," said Blizzard, and he found it difficult to
control his voice. "And it was very sweet of him to send them. Isn't
that the rest of the speech?"

"Of course," said Barbara gayly.

She lifted the flowers until the lower half of her face was hidden.

"Mr. Allen, I suppose," said the beggar.

"Why should you suppose that?" said Barbara, a little coldly. "There is
no card."

Blizzard felt his mistake. And Barbara felt that he felt it. She went
into the next room for a vase of water, and returned presently with
heightened color. She had heard Harry West's slow grave voice explaining
something to Bubbles. Her heart told her that West had sent the flowers,
and she meant to get rid of Blizzard and find out. So, the vase of
flowers in one hand, she held out the other to him, and said:

"To-morrow."

Blizzard was loath to go, but he felt that there was a certain finality
in her voice, and he swung out of the studio, his heart gnawed
with jealousy.

XVIII

Through Bubbles, Harry West received the happy news that Miss Ferris
wished to speak with him. But when he saw her with the vase of jonquils
in her hand, and the empty box in which they had come at her feet, his
stout heart failed him a little.

"Mr. West," said Barbara, "some person is annoying me."

"Annoying you?"

"I am continually receiving flowers without card or comment."

"Is it the flowers which annoy you or the lack of comment?"

"I love the flowers, but anything in the shape of anonymity is unfair,
and I resent it."

"I can think of cases," said West, "in which a man might properly send
flowers without disclosing his identity--just as I may pass a fine
statue and praise it, without telling the statue who I am." He smiled.

"Flowers don't resemble statues in the least, and your comparison is
unnaturally far-fetched. Another thing, and this annoys me even more: my
secretive friend sends flowers from the cheapest florist he can find. I
argue from this that he is poor, and cannot afford to send me flowers
at all."

"Perhaps his home and business in the city are too far from the Fifth
Avenue shops."

"You are not saying gallant things, Mr. West. I--an unprotected young
woman--tell you that I am being annoyed by a strange man. Instead of
flying into a chivalrous rage and threatening to wring his neck when you
catch him, you stand up for him. Very well. I shall set Bubbles to find
out who the m