"I was trying to reconcile irreconcilable facts. For instance, I know a gentleman in New York who has more leisure and money than he knows what to do with, and I was wondering why I should be so very busy and have so little time for work that I like best." "I have solved worse puzzles than that, Miss Howard. Can you not imbue your friend with love for your favorite work? Gentlemen with too much leisure are not to be classed with the most favored beings." "He is one of the most wretched men I know, sarcastic and cynical to such a degree that his society is shunned by every one; and yet I can't help pitying him. I believe that he has a passion for making himself appear worse than he is. I have taken a fancy," she added, with a hearty laugh, "to try some experiments on him." "Of what nature?" "Why, I have been told again and again that he has no heart. I am applying tests to find out the fact for myself; so far, that important organ seems to be in a state of ossification; but I am not discouraged." "If I were your uncle, I should warn you that ossified hearts, when wakened from their torpor, sometimes become dangerously active,— I mean dangerous for their own happiness." Marion's eyes twinkled with mirth. "I do not fear too much activity, I fear too little. But is not that the house?" Mr. Angus had told her the child was beautiful; but this had by no means prepared her for the lovely, enchanting face which burst upon her as, advancing into the room, a boy of three or four years sprang out from an inner apartment. "Oh, you darling little fellow!" she cried, catching him in her arms, and bestowing kiss after kiss upon him. So absorbed was Marion in delight and wonder that she did not notice the entrance of a young lady from a door in the opposite direction, until the voice of Mr. Angus saying, "Miss Howard, Mrs. Cheriton," roused her to present realities. "Excuse me," she began, cheeks and chin dimpling with amusement. "I forgot that I was a stranger,—everything in my admiration for—." She interrupted herself to place the child on the floor; but he had no idea of being abandoned so suddenly. He clung tightly around her neck, his face sparkling with mischief. "Genie, don't tease the lady." The mother's voice was soft, and she spoke with a pretty accent; but the boy paid not the slightest attention to his mother's mild suggestion. He clung to his new friend, occasionally holding himself off far enough to look in her face. Catching a glimpse of Mr. Angus's tall form standing over near the door, his hat in his hand, keen appreciation of the scene stamped on every feature, Marion's color surged to her very brow. She whispered, "Go to the gentleman now, Genie," and put the boy to the floor. "Will you take a drive with me, Eugene?" This being soon arranged, Mr. Angus carried the child to the buggy, merely saying to Marion,— "I will be back in half an hour."