oring.

"Forgive me," she cried, the blue eyes battling bravely against the
steel in the grey ones above. "I was so uncivil! Perhaps I cannot make
you understand why I spoke as I did, but, let me say, I richly deserved
the rebuke. Pray forgive me and forget that I have been disagreeable. Do
not ask me to tell you why I was so rude to you just now, but overlook
my unkind treatment of your invitation. Please, Mr. Lorry, I beg of
you--I beg for the first time in my life. You have been so good to me;
be good to me still."

His wrath melted away like snow before the sunshine. How could he resist
such an appeal? "I beg for the first time in my life," whirled in his
brain. What did she mean by that?

"I absolve the penitent," he said, gravely.

"I thank you. You are still my ideal American--courteous, bold and
gentle. I do not wonder that Americans can be masterful men. And now I
thank you for your invitation, and ask you to let me withdraw my implied
refusal. If you will take me for the drive, I shall be delighted and
more than grateful."

"You make me happy again," he said, softly, as they drew near the elder
members of the party, who had paused to wait for them. "I shall ask your
uncle and aunt to accompany us."

"Uncle Caspar will be busy all day, but I am sure my aunt will be
charmed. Aunt Yvonne, Mr. Lorry has asked us to drive with him over the
city, and I have accepted for you. When are we to start, Mr. Lorry?"

Mr. and Mrs. Guggenslocker stared in a bewildered sort of manner
at their niece. Then Aunt Yvonne turned questioning eyes toward her
husband, who promptly bowed low before the tall American and said:

"Your kind offices shall never be forgotten, sir. When are the ladies to
be ready?"

Lorry was weighing in his mind the advisability of asking them to dine
in the evening with his mother, but two objections presented themselves
readily. First, he was afraid of this perverse maid; second, he had not
seen his mother. In fact, he did not know that she was in town.

"At two o'clock, I fancy. That will give us the afternoon. You leave at
nine to-night, do you not?"

"Yes. And will you dine with us this evening?" Her invitation was so
unexpected, in view of all that had happened, that he looked askance.
"Ach, you must not treat my invitation as I did yours!" she cried,
merrily, although he could detect the blush that returns with the
recollection of a reprimand. "You should profit by what I have been
taugh