look at the young workman who now followed Bubbles into
the studio. And so did Barbara, the moment she saw him.

To her critical eye he was quite the best-looking young man she had ever
seen "in the world or out of it." He was tall, broad, round-necked,
narrow in the hips, and of a fine brown coloring. He carried with easy
grace a strong, well-massed head, to which the close adherence of the
ears, and the shortness of the dark-brown shiny hair, gave an effect of
high civilization and finish. Brown, level eyes, neither hard nor soft,
but of a twinkling habit, a nose straight, thick, finely chiselled, an
emphatic chin, and a large mouth of extraordinary sweetness, were not
lost upon Barbara, but that which served most to arrest her attention
was that resemblance which she at once perceived to exist between the
young workman and the legless beggar. Yet between Bubbles, who also
resembled Blizzard in her eyes or in her imagination, and the youth from
the hardware store, she was unable, swiftly comparing them, to find
anything in common. To the one nature had denied even full growth and
development; upon the other she had lavished muscle, blood, and bone.
The small boy had a ragged, peaked, pathetic face, hair that sprouted
every which way, the eyes of an invalid, ears of unequal size and
different shapes, that stuck straight out from his head--all the
stampings, in short, of street-birth and gutter-raising. The workman had
an efficient, commanding look, the easy, strong motions of an athlete
trained and proved. Neither in the least resembled the other, yet both
resembled the legless beggar, who in turn resembled Satan after the
fall--and Barbara was inclined to laugh.

"I am so obsessed with one man's face," she thought, "that I see
something of it in all other faces."

"Good-morning, Harry." It was the beggar's voice, cool, and perhaps a
little insolent.

"Good-morning, Blizzard." The young man nodded curtly and turned to
Barbara. "Do you wish all the knobs changed?"

"Please."

Without another word, the young man knelt at the door by which he had
entered and began with the aid of a long screw-driver to remove its
ancient lock of japanned iron and coarse white china.

"What's the best news with you, Harry?"

The young man did not look up from his work. "That the water'll soon be
warm enough for swimming," he said.

To Barbara that answer seemed pleasantly indicative of a healthy nature
and a healthy mind.

"It