As the latter took her seat I ventured to look at her, and if ever a woman's eyes were eloquent with warm, approving friendliness, hers were. I seemingly had done the very thing she would have wished me to do. As we bowed our heads in grace, I was graceless enough to growl, under my breath, "My attentions to Adah are evidently very satisfactory. Can she imagine for a moment--does she take me for a weather-vane?" When grace was over, I glanced toward her again, a trifle indignantly; but her face now was quiet and pale, and I was compelled to believe that for the rest of the evening she avoided my eyes and all references to the past. "Why, mother!" exclaimed Mr. Yocomb from the head of the table, "thy cheeks are as red--why, thee looks like a young girl." "Thee knows I'm very much pleased to-night," she said. "Does thee remember, Richard, when thee first sat down to supper with us?" "Indeed I do. Never shall I forget my trepidation lest Mr. Yocomb should discover whom, in his unsuspecting hospitality, he was harboring." "Well, I've discovered," laughed the old gentleman. "Good is always coming out of Nazareth." "It seems to me that we've met before," remarked Mr. Hearn, graciously and reflectively. "Yes, sir," I explained. "As a reporter I called on you once or twice for information." "Ah, now it comes back to me. Yes, yes, I remember; and I also remember that you did not extract the information as if it had been a tooth. Your manner was not that of a professional interviewer. You must meet with disagreeable experiences in your calling." "Yes, sir; but perhaps that is true of all callings." "Yes, no doubt, no doubt; but it has seemed to me that a reporter's lot must frequently bring him in contact with much that is disagreeable." "Mr. Morton is not a reporter," said Adah, a trifle indignantly; "he's the editor of a first-class paper." "Indeed!" exclaimed Mr. Hearn, growing much more benign; "why, Emily, you did not tell me that." "No, I only spoke of Mr. Morton as a gentleman." "I imagine that Miss Warren thinks that I have mistaken my calling, and that I ought to be a gardener." "That's an odd impression. Mr. Yocomb would not even trust you to weed," she retorted quickly. "I have a fellow feeling for weeds; they grow so easily and naturally. But I must correct your impressions, Miss Adah. I'm not the dignitary you imagine-only _an_ editor, and an obscure night one at that." "Your night work on one occasion bears the light very well. I hope it may be the earnest of the future," said Mr. Hearn impressively. I felt that he had a covert meaning, for he had glanced more than once at Miss Warren when I spoke, and I imagined him a little anxious as to our mutual impressions.