had fancied that you were
a collector of butterflies."

Hayden nearly dropped the receiver. There was the smallest of pauses and
then he spoke in his accustomed tone, a little cooler and more leisurely
than usual, with some fleeting idea of caution.

"Ah, yes, yes, I am somewhat interested in that line. But the fact is
known to few. Perhaps you will kindly tell me how you learned of my
enthusiasm?"

"Are you quite sure that you may not have mentioned the subject to me
yourself." Her voice was full of subtle emphasis.

"No, senorita," he laughed. "That will not do. You can not throw me off
the track that way, by trying to make me doubt my memory."

"Then, truly, you do not recall the old glad days in Spain?" her voice
questioned incredulously, doubted, took on a little fall of
disappointment, almost of wounded vanity or sentiment.

"Senorita, emphatically, no. Had I, in the old glad days in Spain, or the
old glad days anywhere else, ever met a woman with a voice like yours, I
should never have forgotten her in a thousand years. No, senorita. Try
something else. That will not do."

"Zip!" There was unmistakable temper in the exclamation.

"We were speaking of butterflies," said Hayden, alarmed lest she should
ring him off. "Are you at all interested in that line?"

"Indeed, yes," she assured him, "although I doubt very much if my
interest is anything like as scientific as yours. I fancy I am more
interested in them because of their wonderful beauty, than for any more
particular reason. And what in all the world, senor, is so beautiful as
the butterflies of the tropics? Do you remember how they come floating
out into the sunlight from the dark mysterious depths of the forests?
Such colors! Such iridescence on their wings; but the most beautiful of
all are the great gray ones, senor, the silver butterflies."

Again Hayden started violently and again succeeded in controlling the
surprise her words aroused in him. "I quite agree with you," he said
politely. "The silver butterfly is one of the most beautiful of all the
tropical varieties."

"Yes, truly." Again there was the hint of irresistible laughter in the
lady's tones. "But there is a curious little fact that I fancy very few
of you naturalists know, and that is that it is not confined absolutely
to the tropics. Doubt the assertion if you will, but I make it calmly: I,
senor, with my own eyes have seen silver butterflies at New York, and in
the most unlikely