life. Oh, and remember the plum compote. You'll
be disappointed in their Wertheim's that they're always bragging about.
After all, Field's makes 'em all look like country stores."

"Wertheim's? Is that something to eat, too?"

"No, idiot. It's their big department store." Ella turned to Heyl,
for whom she felt mingled awe and liking. "If this trip of hers is
successful, the firm will probably send her over three or four times a
year. It's a wonderful chance for a kid like her."

"Then I hope," said Heyl, quietly, "that this trip may be a failure."

Ella smiled, uncertainly.

"Don't laugh," said Fanny, sharply. "He means it."

Ella, sensing an unpleasant something in which she had no part, covered
the situation with another rush of conversation.

"You'll get the jolt of your life when you come to Paris and find that
you're expected to pay for the lunches, and all the cab fares, and
everything, of those shrimpy little commissionaires. Polite little
fellows, they are, in frock coats, and mustaches, and they just stand
aside, as courtly as you please, while you pay for everything. Their
house expects it. I almost passed away, the first time, but you get used
to it. Say, imagine one of our traveling men letting you pay for his
lunch and taxi."

She rattled on, genially. Heyl listened with unfeigned delight. Ella
found herself suddenly abashed before those clear, far-seeing eyes. "You
think I'm a gabby old girl, don't you?"

"I think you're a wonderful woman," said Heyl. "Very wise, and very
kind."

"Why--thanks," faltered Ella. "Why--thanks."

They said their good-bys. Ella hugged Fanny warm-heartedly. Then she
turned away, awkwardly. Heyl put his two hands on Fanny's shoulders and
looked down at her. For a breathless second she thought he was about to
kiss her. She was amazed to find herself hoping that he would. But he
didn't. "Good-by," he said, simply. And took her hand in his steel grip
a moment, and dropped it. And turned away. A messenger boy, very much
out of breath, came running up to her, a telegram in his hand.

"For me?" Fanny opened it, frowned, smiled. "It's from Mr. Fenger. Good
wishes. As if all those flowers weren't enough."

"Mm," said Ella. She and Heyl descended the gang-way, and stood at the
dock's edge, looking rather foolish and uncertain, as people do at such
times. There followed a few moments of scramble, of absurdly shouted
last messages, of bells, and frantic waving of handkerchiefs