ame forward, smiling, and
propelled her slowly toward the middle of the large dim room.

"Welcome!" he said, holding out his hand. "Yes, Fantail, I quite
understand. He's been sick and now he's getting better. Go with mother!"

Fan was exchanged for Mrs. Mansfield and vanished, speaking slowly and
continuously about Masterman's internal condition and "the new lydy,"
while Mrs. Mansfield took off her fur coat and looked around her and at
Heath.

"I didn't kiss her," she said, "because I think it's a liberty to kiss
one of God's creatures at first sight without a special invitation."

"I know--I know!"

Heath seemed restless. His face was slightly flushed, and his eyes,
always full of a peculiar vitality, looked more living even than usual.
He glanced at Mrs. Mansfield, then glanced away, almost guiltily, she
thought.

"Do come and sit down by the fire. Would you like a cushion?"

"No, thank you! What a nice old settle!"

"Yes, isn't it? I live in this room. Alling, the painter, built it for
his studio. The other rooms are tiny."

"What a delightful servant you have!"

"Mrs. Searle--yes. She's a treasure! Humanity breaks out of her whatever
the occasion. And my goodness, how she understands men!"

He laughed, but the laugh sounded slightly unnatural.

"Fantail's delightful, too!" he added.

"What is her real name?"

"Fanny. I call her Fantail." He paused. "Well, because I like her, I
suppose."

"I know."

There was a moment of silence, in which Mrs. Mansfield glanced about the
room. Despite its size it was cozy. It looked as if it were lived in,
perpetually and intimately used. There was nothing in it that was very
handsome or very valuable, except a fine Steinway grand pianoforte; but
there was nothing ugly or vulgar. And there were quantities of books,
not covered with repellent glass. They were ranged in dark cases, which
furnished the walls, and lay everywhere on tables, among magazines and
papers, scores and volumes of songs and loose manuscript music. The
piano was open, and there was more music on it. The armchairs were well
worn but comfortable, and looked "sat in." Over the windows there were
dim orange-colored curtains that looked old but not shabby. On the floor
there were some rather good and very effective Oriental rugs. The only
flowers in the room were bright yellow tulips, grouped together in a
mass on an oak table a long way from the fire. Opposite to the piano
there was a large ebony