"I am justly punished," said Van Berg frankly. "Miss Burton, please let me explain her allusion." "I would rather you would not," she replied promptly, "for Miss Mayhew made it in a low tone, showing that she intended it for your ear only." "Well, then I must content myself by saying that standing near this spot, not long since, I acted like a fool." "It's an excellent sign of wisdom, Mr. Van Berg," she said laughingly, "that you have discovered the fact. The only fools to be despaired of are those who never find themselves out." "Did you ever do a very foolish thing, Miss Jennie?" "It would be a very foolish thing for me to listen to any more of such monstrous flattery. Or perhaps you are satirical and take this roundabout way of telling me that I'm human like yourself. I'm going down to supper, for I prefer Mr. Burleigh's toast to such doubtful compliments." "Miss Jennie, I protest, I never offered you a compliment in my life," he said, accompanying her. "In the name of the King's English, what are compliments, then?" "Mere verbal sugar-plums, sweet, cloying, and often poisonous. My expressions of honest opinion are, like Mr. Burleigh's toast you are so fond of, made of the finest wheat of truth, leavened by my irrepressible admiration, and done to the nicest shade of brown by the warmth of my FRIENDLY regard." "Oh, oh, OH! Your compliments are verbal balloons." "Yes, that figure might apply to them also, for these opinions of mine--not compliments, mark!--often carry me up above the clouds and vapors of earth." "Where you will find the atmosphere exceedingly thin and cold, I assure you," said Miss Burton, with something like seriousness in her tone. "I must remind you, Mr. Van Berg, that even Jack Bunsby did not give his opinions till they were asked, and I will take some toast, if you please, in their stead." Stanton and Mrs. Mayhew now appeared, and the conversation became general, in which the former made rather futile efforts to conceal his dejection. His aunt had told him that Ida had merely said she had spent the day with a friend, and that she would explain her absence at the proper time. "She has such a dignified way of speaking, that you are made to feel it is an insult to ask a question, so I shall just take her at her word, and leave her to herself," concluded the lady. "She'll never forgive me," muttered Stanton. A little later than the others, the object of his thoughts came down to supper. The deep color which the unexpected episode with the artist had caused now lingered only as a faint glow in her cheeks. She had fastened a few pear leaves in her hair, and wore no other ornament. Her thin white dress suggested rather than reveated the exquisite symmetry of her neck and arms, and Van Berg was compelled to admit to himself that his trained and critical eyes could scarcely detect a flaw in her marvellous beauty, or in the taste shown in her costume.