t,
and I didn't love myself for it, any more than a porcupine can be really
fond of his own quills. I couldn't bear, somehow, that the man with the
nice eyes should be hearing me called a "pert piece," and thinking me
one. Quite a smart repartee came into my head, but a heavy feeling in my
heart kept me from putting it into words; and Nebuchadnezzar went
grunting on: "I know as much about old lace as any man in this street,
if not in town. That's why I don't offer more."

"Give me back my scarf, please," was my only answer, in quite a small
voice.

Still he held on to the lace. "Look here, miss," said he in a changed
tone, "how did you come to get hold of this bit of property, anyhow?
Folks ain't in the habit of sending their children out to dispose o'
their valuables. How can I tell that you ain't nicked this off your
mother or your aunt, or some other dame who doesn't know you're out? If
I was doin' my dooty, I shouldn't wonder if I oughtn't to call in the
police!"

"You horrid, horrid person," I flung at him. "You're trying to frighten
me--to blackmail me--into selling you my lace for thirty shillings, when
maybe it's worth twenty times that. But if any one calls the police, it
will be me, to give you in charge for--for intimidation."

Almost before I had time to be proud of the word when I'd contrived to
get it out, the customer had detached himself from the prints and
intervened.

"I beg your pardon for interfering," he said (to me, not to
Nebuchadnezzar), "but I can't help wondering"--and he smiled a perfectly
disarming smile--"if you aren't rather young to be a business woman on
your own account. Will you let me see the lace?"

Of course the shopkeeper gave it up to him instantly, shamefaced at
realizing that his customer, instead of admiring his smart methods, was
entering the lists against him.

While my champion (I felt sure somehow that he was my champion at heart)
took the scarf in his hands, and began trying to look wise over it, I
had about forty-nine seconds in which to look at him. Even at first
glance I had thought him nice, but now I decided that he was the nicest
man I had ever seen. Not the handsomest; I don't mean that, for our
county in Ireland is celebrated for its handsome men, both high and low.
Also I'd seen several Dreams since we came to London: but--well, just
the _nicest_.

Because it was the middle of the season and he was in tweeds, I fancied
that he didn't go in for being "sma