ty glad to see you," he heartily began. "We don't often
get a man from the sea-level, and when we do we squeeze him dry."

His voice, low, languid, and soft, was most insinuating, and for hours he
kept his guest talking of the East and its industries and prejudices; and
Berrie and her mother listened with deep admiration, for the youngster
had seen a good deal of the old world, and was unusually well read on
historical lines of inquiry. He talked well, too, inspired by his
attentive audience.

Berrie's eyes, wide and eager, were fixed upon him unwaveringly. He felt
her wonder, her admiration, and was inspired to do his best. Something in
her absorbed attention led him to speak of things so personal that he
wondered at himself for uttering them.

"I've been dilettante all my life," was one of his confessions. "I've
traveled; I've studied in a tepid sort of fashion; I went through college
without any idea of doing anything with what I got; I had a sort of pride
in keeping up with my fellows; and I had no idea of preparing for any
work in the world. Then came my breakdown, and my doctor ordered me out
here. I came intending to fish and loaf around, but I can't do that. I've
got to do something or go back home. I expected to have a chum of mine
with me, but his father was injured in an automobile accident, so he went
into the office to help out."

As he talked the girl discovered new graces, new allurements in him. His
smile, so subtly self-derisive, and his voice so flexible and so quietly
eloquent, completed her subjugation. She had no further care concerning
Clifford--indeed, she had forgotten him--for the time at least. The other
part of her--the highly civilized latent power drawn from her mother--was
in action. She lost her air of command, her sense of chieftainship, and
sat humbly at the feet of this shining visitor from the East.

At last Mrs. McFarlane rose, and Berea, reluctantly, like a child loath
to miss a fairy story, held out her hand to say good night, and the young
man saw on her face that look of adoration which marks the birth of
sudden love; but his voice was frank and his glance kindly as he said:

"Here I've done all the talking when I wanted you to tell _me_ all sorts
of things."

"I can't tell you anything."

"Oh yes, you can; and, besides, I want you to intercede for me with your
father and get me into the Service. But we'll talk about that to-morrow.
Good night."

After the women left the