t least, as my Susan is
concerned. I have said that the romance in her nature died hard; but
it never died at all. This man, this almost stranger, was rousing it
as warmth and light stir the sleeping asphodels of spring. The foolish
Susan came to think of Mr. Falconer whenever she made her toilet--to
thrill at every sight of him and at his lightest word. But this was
not till after many other meetings and interviews than those this
story has recorded. As Mr. Falconer was frequently at the house which
Susan built, and as this was less than a block removed from the one
she occupied, there naturally occurred many a chance meeting, when
some significant glance or word would send Susan's heart searching for
its meaning.

And these chance meetings were not all.

"Who was it that called, Susie?" Gertrude asked one evening when
her sister came up from a half-hour's interview with some one in the
parlor.

"The gentleman who rents my house," Susan replied, her face turned
from Gertrude.

"What is he for ever coming here for?"

"He came to tell me that there were some screws loose in a
door-hinge," Susan answered.

"For pity's sake!" exclaimed Gertrude. "That's a great thing to come
bothering about! Why didn't he get a screw-driver and screw up the
screws?"

"It's my place to keep the house in order," said Susan.

"The report of things out of order usually sets landlords in a feaze,
but you keep as serene as the moon with your tenant's complaints.
He's always finding something out of order, which seems strange,
considering that the house is brand-new."

Not many days after Gertrude had occasion to repeat her question to
Susan: "Who was it called?"

She received the reply she was expecting: "The man who rents my
house."

"Indeed! What's the matter now? another screw loose?" Gertrude asked.

"He wanted to suggest an alteration in the pantry."

"Why, he's for ever wanting alterations made! I don't see how you can
be so patient with his criticisms: we all know you are house-proud.
I wouldn't listen to that man: he'll ruin your house with his
improvements. I don't know, anyhow, what he can mean by saying in
one breath that it is a perfect house, and in the next asking for an
alteration."

"I'm sure I don't know," said Susan; and then her heart went into a
happy wondering as to what Mr. Falconer could mean.

"What is it this time?" Gertrude asked about three days after in
reference to "the man who rents my house,"