there came to his ears a strange sound--the sound of the
wind rising in the canyon below.

The Girl looked at him in blank astonishment--a look that might easily
have been interpreted as saying, "Where do you hail from?" She answered:

"Is it . . .? Oh, Lordy, they come in a minute! All of a sudden you
don't know where you are--it's awful!"

"Not many women--" digressed the man, glancing apprehensively towards
the door, but she cut him short swiftly with the ejaculation:

"Bosh!" And picking up a plate she raised it high in the air the better
to show off its contents. "Charlotte rusks an' lemming turnover!" she
announced, searching his face for some sign of joy, her own face
lighting up perceptibly.

"Well, this is a treat!" cried out Johnson between sips of coffee.

"Have one?"

"You bet!" he returned with unmistakable pleasure in his voice.

The Girl served him with one of each, and when he thanked her she beamed
with happiness.

"Let me send you some little souvenir of to-night"--he said, a little
while later, his admiring eyes settled on her hair of burnished gold
which glistened when the light fell upon it--"something that you'd just
love to read in your course of teaching at the Academy." He paused to
search his mind for something suitable to suggest to her; at length he
questioned: "Now, what have you been reading lately?"

The Girl's face broke into smiles as she answered:

"Oh, it's an awful funny book about a kepple. He was a classic an' his
name was Dent."

Johnson knitted his brows and thought a moment. "He was a classic, you
say, and his name was--Oh, yes, I know--Dante," he declared, with
difficulty controlling the laughter that well-nigh convulsed him. "And
you found Dante funny, did you?"

"Funny? I roared!" acknowledged the Girl with a frankness that was so
genuine that Johnson could not help but admire her all the more. "You
see, he loved a lady--" resumed the Girl, toying idly with her spoon.

"--Beatrice," supplemented Johnson, pronouncing the name with the
Italian accent which, by the way, was not lost on the Girl.

"How?" she asked quickly, with eyes wide open.

Johnson ignored the question. Anxious to hear her interpretation of the
story, he requested her to continue.

"He loved a lady--" began the Girl, and broke off short. And going over
to the book-shelf she took down a volume and began to finger the leaves
absently. Presently she came back, and fixing her eyes upon him, sh