"What has he been crying for?" Miss Gerald asked, turning from a long look after him. Lanfear did not know quite what to say; but he hazarded saying: "He was hurt that you had forgotten him when he came to see you this afternoon." "Did he come to see me?" she asked; and Lanfear exchanged looks of anxiety, pain, and reassurance with her father. "I am so sorry. Shall I go after him and tell him?" "No; I explained; he's all right," Lanfear said. "You want to be careful, Nannie," her father added, "about people's feelings when you meet them, and afterwards seem not to know them." "But I _do_ know them, papa," she remonstrated. "You want to be careful," her father repeated. "I will--I will, indeed." Her lips quivered, and the tears came, which Lanfear had to keep from flowing by what quick turn he could give to something else. An obscure sense of the painful incident must have lingered with her after its memory had perished. One afternoon when Lanfear and her father went with her to the military concert in the sycamore-planted piazza near the Vacherie Suisse, where they often came for a cup of tea, she startled them by bowing gayly to a young lieutenant of engineers standing there with some other officers, and making the most of the prospect of pretty foreigners which the place afforded. The lieutenant returned the bow with interest, and his eyes did not leave their party as long as they remained. Within the bounds of deference for her, it was evident that his comrades were joking about the honor done him by this charming girl. When the Geralds started homeward Lanfear was aware of a trio of officers following them, not conspicuously, but unmistakably; and after that, he could not start on his walks with Miss Gerald and her father without the sense that the young lieutenant was hovering somewhere in their path, waiting in the hopes of another bow from her. The officer was apparently not discouraged by his failure to win recognition from her, and what was amounting to annoyance for Lanfear reached the point where he felt he must share it with her father. He had nearly as much trouble in imparting it to him as he might have had with Miss Gerald herself. He managed, but when he required her father to put a stop to it he perceived that Gerald was as helpless as she would have been. He first wished to verify the fact from its beginning with her, but this was not easy. "Nannie," he said, "why did you bow to that officer the other day?" "What officer, papa? When?" "You know; there by the band-stand, at the Swiss Dairy." She stared blankly at him, and it was clear that it was all as if it had not been with her. He insisted, and then she said: "Perhaps I thought I knew him, and was afraid I should hurt his feelings if I didn't recognize him. But I don't remember it at all." The curves of her mouth drooped, and her eyes grieved, so that her father had not the heart to say more. She left them, and when he was alone with Lanfear he said: