r
the short grass.

"Congratulate me," he said, as he stepped before her.

Mrs. Easterfield dropped her roses and her scissors and turned pale.
"What do you mean?" she gasped.

"Oh, don't be frightened," he said. "I have not been acquitted, but the
execution has been stopped for the present, and I am out on bail. I
really feel as though the wound in my neck had healed."

"What stuff!" said Mrs. Easterfield, her color returning. "Try to speak
sensibly."

"Oh, I can do that," said Mr. Locker; "upon occasion I can do that very
well. I proposed again to Miss Asher not twenty minutes ago. She gave me
no answer, but she made an arrangement with me which I think is going to
be very satisfactory; she said she could not have me proposing to her
every time I saw her--it would attract attention, and in the end might
prove annoying--but she said she would be willing to have me propose to
her every day just before luncheon, provided I did not insist upon an
answer, and would promise to give no indication whatever at any other
time that I entertained any unusual regard for her. I agreed to this,
and now we understand each other. I feel very confident and happy. The
other person has no regular time for offering himself, and if any effort
of mine can avail he shall not find an irregular opportunity."

Mrs. Easterfield laughed. "Come pick up my roses," she said. "I must go
in."

"It is like making love," said Locker as he picked up the flowers,
"charming, but prickly." At this moment he started. "Who is that?" he
exclaimed.

Mrs. Easterfield turned. "Oh, that is Monsieur Emile Du Brant. He is one
of the secretaries of the Austrian legation. He is to spend a week with
us. Suppose you take my flowers into the house and I will go to meet
him."

Claude Locker, his arms folded around a mass of thorny roses, and a pair
of scissors dangling from one finger, stood and gazed with savage
intensity at the dapper little man--black eyes, waxed mustache, dressed
in the height of fashion--who, with one hand outstretched, while the
other held his hat, advanced with smiles and bows to meet the lady of
the house. Locker had seen him before; he had met him in Washington; and
he had received forty dollars for a poem of which this Austrian young
person was the subject.

He allowed the lady and her guest to enter the house before him, and
then, like a male Flora, he followed, grinding his teeth, and indulging
in imprecations.

"He will have t