She hesitated, flushed and palpitating. Kisses were rare in the staid little household to which she belonged. “I--I think not.” “Please! I'm not very happy, and it will be something to remember.” Perhaps, after all, Sidney's first kiss would have gone without her heart,--which was a thing she had determined would never happen,--gone out of sheer pity. But a tall figure loomed out of the shadows and approached with quick strides. “The roomer!” cried Sidney, and backed away. “Damn the roomer!” Poor Joe, with the summer evening quite spoiled, with no caress to remember, and with a potential rival who possessed both the years and the inches he lacked, coming up the Street! The roomer advanced steadily. When he reached the doorstep, Sidney was demurely seated and quite alone. The roomer, who had walked fast, stopped and took off his hat. He looked very warm. He carried a suitcase, which was as it should be. The men of the Street always carried their own luggage, except the younger Wilson across the way. His tastes were known to be luxurious. “Hot, isn't it?” Sidney inquired, after a formal greeting. She indicated the place on the step just vacated by Joe. “You'd better cool off out here. The house is like an oven. I think I should have warned you of that before you took the room. These little houses with low roofs are fearfully hot.” The new roomer hesitated. The steps were very low, and he was tall. Besides, he did not care to establish any relations with the people in the house. Long evenings in which to read, quiet nights in which to sleep and forget--these were the things he had come for. But Sidney had moved over and was smiling up at him. He folded up awkwardly on the low step. He seemed much too big for the house. Sidney had a panicky thought of the little room upstairs. “I don't mind heat. I--I suppose I don't think about it,” said the roomer, rather surprised at himself. Reginald, having finished his chestnut, squeaked for another. The roomer started. “Just Reginald--my ground-squirrel.” Sidney was skinning a nut with her strong white teeth. “That's another thing I should have told you. I'm afraid you'll be sorry you took the room.” The roomer smiled in the shadow. “I'm beginning to think that YOU are sorry.” She was all anxiety to reassure him:-- “It's because of Reginald. He lives under my--under your bureau. He's really not troublesome; but he's building a nest under the bureau, and if you don't know about him, it's rather unsettling to see a paper pattern from the sewing-room, or a piece of cloth, moving across the floor.” Mr. Le Moyne thought it might be very interesting. “Although, if there's nest-building going on, isn't it--er--possible that Reginald is a lady ground-squirrel?”