he fact and go home. But as he sat crossing and recrossing his knees,
wishing inexpressibly for the relief of a smoke, her face in the
lamplight was so lovely that he shut his teeth and resolved to hang on.

Then a sneeze came to his relief, a big-throated sneeze, followed by a
second and a third.

"Oh," Hertha cried, rousing herself, "aren't you warm enough? Perhaps
it's warmer in the kitchen."

"Don't bother."

"It isn't any bother. I often sit there."

He followed her into the bright little kitchen, hoping that in a new
environment he might be able to break through her reticence; but Hertha
herself helped him.

"I'm going to make you a cup of cocoa," she said. "You're cold and you
need something to warm you up."

Beyond allowing him to light the gas stove, she refused all assistance,
and as he stood watching her go through her deft movements, measuring,
stirring, and at last pouring a foaming liquid into their two cups--for
to his delight she was to share the meal--he was more attracted and yet
more puzzled than ever.

"You cook mighty well," he said as she poured the hot cocoa.

"I'm used to doing little things about the house," she answered. "Before
I came here I was a companion in a family."

The statement was made on the spur of the moment, but as Hertha thought
it over she was delighted that she had been able to say something that
opened up a way to live in the past without embarrassment, almost
without falsehood. To conjure up the world of white people in her
grandfather's home had been beyond her power; even in her thoughts she
had stumbled in her endeavor to climb the ladder that led to their
eminence. But as a companion in the Merryvale household she was in
familiar surroundings.

Richard Brown on his part was a little disappointed. He had been
dreaming of a princess in disguise and he found only a poor relation. In
the large families of the South there were sometimes girls like this,
though when they were so pretty they usually soon married, girls who had
to do the odd tasks, give up the good times, go to live with some
distant cousin or aunt as the case might be. That sort of thing made a
girl shy and quiet. For the first time that evening he felt at ease.

"I bet there ain't anybody in New York can make cocoa to beat yours,",
he declared emphatically. "I never liked the stuff before."

"I should have made you coffee," Hertha said regretfully. "I forgot,
because coffee keeps me awake."

"