uch
difficulty to get Mrs. Weldon on the desired topic. There were spacious
digressions in her information and abrupt excursions into irrelevant
matter, and there were also interruptions by other visitors, and the
consequent and tedious exchange of platitude and small-talk. But after
the fourth visit Tristrem found himself in possession of a store of
knowledge, the sum and substance of which amounted to this: Miss Raritan
lived with her mother in the shady part of the Thirties, near Madison
Avenue. Her father was dead. It had been rumored, but with what truth
Mrs. Weldon was not prepared to affirm, that the girl had some intention
of appearing on the lyric stage, which, if she carried out, would of
course be the end of her socially. She had been very much ruin after on
account of her voice, and at the Wainwarings the President had said that
he had never heard anything like it, and asked her to come to Washington
and be present at one of the diplomatic dinners. Personally Mrs. Weldon
knew her very slightly, but she intimated that, inasmuch as the
government had once sent Raritan _pere_ abroad as minister--in order
probably to be rid of him--his daughter was inclined to look down on
those whose fathers held less exalted positions--on Mrs. Weldon herself,
for example.

It was with this little store of information that Tristrem left her on
the Thursday succeeding the dinner. It was meagre indeed, and yet ample
enough to afford him food for reflection. During the gleaning many
people had come and gone, but of Miss Raritan he had as yet seen
nothing. The next afternoon, however, as he was about to ascend Mrs.
Weldon's stoop for the fifth time in five days, the door opened and the
girl on whom his thoughts were centred was before him.

Throughout the week he had lived in the expectation of meeting her, it
was the one thing that had brought zest to the day and dreams to the
night; there was even a little speech which he had rehearsed, but for
the moment he was dumb. He plucked absently at his cuff, to the palms of
his hands there came a sudden moisture. In the vestibule above, a
servant stood waiting for Miss Raritan to reach the pavement before
closing the door, and abruptly, from a barrel-organ at the corner, a
waltz was thrown out in jolts.

The girl descended the steps before Tristrem was able to master his
emotion.

"Miss Raritan," he began, hastily, "I don't suppose you remember me. I
am Mr. Varick. I heard you sing