John looked at his informant; but her head was down once more. "Well," he said, cheerily, "I'll just have to wait till--till I--till I've shown"--a beggar child was annoying him--"shown Fair and all of them that I'm not so green as I----" He felt for a coin, stood still, and turned red. "Miss--Miss Barb----" A smile widened over his face, and he burst into a laugh that grew till the tears came. "What's the matter?" asked Barbara anxiously, yet laughing with him. "Oh, I--I've let somebody pick my pockets. Yes, every cent's gone and my ticket to New York. I had no luck here yesterday, and I was going on to New York to-morrow." He laughed again, but ceased abruptly. "Good gracious, Miss Barb! my watch!--my father's watch!" The broad smile on his lips could not hide the grief in his eyes. LX. A PERFECT UNDERSTANDING As they resumed their way Barbara did most of the talking. She tried so hard to make his loss appear wholly attributable to her, that only the sweetness of her throat and chin and the slow smoothness of her words saved her from seeming illogical. She readily got his admission that the theft might have been done in that archway as the engine rushed by. Very good! And without her, she reasoned, he would not have stopped. "Or, if you had stopped," she softly droned, with her eyes on her steps, "you would have had----" "Oh, now, what would I have had?" "Your hands in your pockets." "That's not my habit." "Oh, Mr. March!" "My d-ear Miss Barb! I should think I ought to know!" "Yes, sir; that's why I tell you." They laughed in partnership. Mr. March was entirely right, Barbara resumed, not to tell his mishap to the Fairs, or to anyone, anywhere, then or thereafter. "But you're cruel to me not to let me lend you enough to avoid the rev-e-la-tion." That was the utmost she would say. If he couldn't see that she would rather _lose_--not to say lend--every dollar she had, than have anyone know where her hand was when his pocket was picked, he might stay just as stupid as he was. She remained silent so long that John looked at her, but did not perceive that she was ready to cry. She wore a glad smile as she said: "I've got more money with me than I ought to be carrying, anyhow." "Why, Miss Barb, you oughtn't to do that; how does that happen?" He spoke with the air of one who had never in his life lost a cent by carelessness. "It's not so very much," was her reply. "It's for my share of Rosemont. I sold it to pop-a." "What! just now when the outlook for Rosemont--why, Miss Barb, I do believe you did it to keep clear of our land company, didn't you?" "Mr. March, I wish you would let me lend you some of it, won't you?" "No, I'll be--surprised if I do. Oh, Miss Barb, I thank you just the same; but my father, Miss Barb, gave it to me, as a canon of chivalry, never to make a money bargain with a lady that you can't make with a bank. If I'm not man enough to get out of this pinch without--oh, pshaw!"