“Still in Paris--buying bric-a-brac and making believe they're studying architecture and--But I'm not going to answer another question. Attention! Miss Felicia Grayson at the bar!” The dear lady straightened her back, her face crinkling with merriment. “Present!” she replied, drawing down the corners of her mouth. “When did you leave home? How long will you stay? Can you come to dinner--you and Methusaleh--on Wednesday night?” “I refuse to answer by advice of counsel. As to coming to dinner, I am not going anywhere for a week--then I am coming to you and Kitty, whether it is Wednesday or any other night. Now, Peter, take him away. He's so puffed up with his Gold Medal he's positively unbearable.” All this time Jack had been standing beside Ruth. He had heard the stir at the door and had seen Holker join Miss Felicia, and while the talk between the two lasted he had interspersed his talk to Ruth with accounts of the supper, and Garry's getting the ring, to which was added the boy's enthusiastic tribute to the architect himself. “The greatest man I have met yet,” he said in his quick, impulsive way. “We don't have any of them down our way. I never saw one--nobody ever did. Here he comes with Mr. Grayson. I hope you will like him.” Ruth made a movement as if to start to her feet. To sit still and look her best and attend to her cups and hot water and tiny wafers was all right for men like Jack, but not with distinguished men like Mr. Morris. Morris had his hand on her chair before she could move it back. “No, my dear young lady--you'll please keep your seat. I've been watching you from across the room and you make too pretty a picture as you are. Tea?--Not a drop.” “Oh, but it is so delicious--and I will give you the very biggest piece of lemon that is left.” “No--not a drop; and as to lemon--that's rank poison to me. You should have seen me hobbling around with gout only last week, and all because somebody at a reception, or tea, or some such plaguey affair, made me drink a glass of lemonade. Give it to this aged old gentleman--it will keep him awake. Here, Peter!” Up to this moment no word had been addressed to Jack, who stood outside the half circle waiting for some sign of recognition from the great man; and a little disappointed when none came. He did not know that one of the great man's failings was his forgetting the names even of those of his intimate friends--such breaks as “Glad to see you--I remember you very well, and very pleasantly, and now please tell me your name,” being a common occurrence with the great architect--a failing that everybody pardoned. Peter noticed the boy's embarrassment and touched Morris' arm. “You remember Mr. Breen, don't you, Holker? He was at your supper that night--and sat next to me.” Morris whirled quickly and held out his hand, all his graciousness in his manner.