Taken aback, and obviously mortified by this sudden change of manner, he took a backward step and replaced the music box on the table. In his face, with a slight quivering of the lips, came the first signs of embarrassment he had shown. He bowed: not the gracious, self-possessed, courtly salutation of a kingly welcome with which he had first greeted her, but a solemn inclination of the head, as one who humbles himself--but gracefully--before an angry deity. And he murmured: "I am sorry." Her eyebrows went up. "Sorry for what?" "I don't know--exactly." For an instant she failed to understand. Then into her face came a gentler expression. "Yes, you do! You are sorry because you think you have troubled me; but it is I who beg your pardon. I am ashamed of myself. You have given me a lesson in politeness." And she smiled her sweetest smile. Whereupon the sunshine returned to his own face. Encouraged by this change of atmosphere, he resumed with new courage his rôle of host. For a moment he studied her face, uncertain as to what was expected of him. Folding his hands above his head, he glanced about the room, searching for inspiration. It came. His face brightened. The slumbrous eyes sparkled. Coming a step nearer, he demanded with suppressed enthusiasm: "Do you care for snakes or mice?" The visitor regarded him with a kind of terror. She frowned, turned her face to one side and shook her head. The host misunderstood the movement. "But it's no trouble. I can get them both. They are right here in the woodshed." And he started toward the door. "Come back," she said, "I don't care to see either of them." "But the snake is dead and the mouse won't bite. He knows me." Miss Clement shuddered: "No! No! Don't speak of them again! Come back." He came back. She knew, and had always known, that boys themselves were a species of reptile. She felt, at this moment, that whatever this boy did must be regarded from that point of view--and forgiven. And as she wondered how a benevolent Creator could permit, in a decently ordered world, the existence of boys, the Vandal exclaimed in a reflective tone, but with a smile of amusement: "Women are funny!" At that moment the grandfather clock in the corner struck four. Miss Clement frowned in that direction. "When did Dr. Alton say he would be back?" "He didn't say." "But you told me he would return soon." "Yes, ma'am." "But you really don't know when?" "No, ma'am." "Then you told a fib." The Vandal smiled and nodded. "Yes, ma'am." "But that is wrong, you know. You should always tell the truth." "Yes, ma'am. But I thought it would be good to have you come in, and sit." Miss Clement almost frowned and smiled in one expression. "But you did wrong. Doesn't your mother punish you for telling such fibs?" "No, ma'am." "Is she not at home?" "Oh, no!" "When do you expect her?" "Oh, never!" "Never?" The drowsy eyes, in astonishment, opened a little wider. "Of course not. She is dead."