“Did you?--and who told you?” “The janitor, I suppose.” “Oh, the good Patrick! Well, well! Holker, you remember young Breen.” Holker did remember, for a wonder, and extended one hand to prove it, and Felicia--but the boy was already bending over her, all his respect and admiration in his eyes. The little chub of a man was now on his feet, standing in an attentive attitude, ready to take his cue from Peter. “And now, my boy, turn this way, and let me introduce you to my very dear friend, Mr. Isaac Cohen.” A pudgy hand was thrust out and the spectacled little man, his eyes on the boy, said he was glad to know any friend of Mr. Grayson, and resuming his seat continued his conversation in still lower tones with the great architect. Jack stood irresolute for an instant, not knowing whether to make some excuse for his evidently inopportune visit and return later, or to keep his seat until the others had gone. Miss Felicia, who had not taken her gaze from the lad since he entered the room, called him to her side. “Now, tell me what you are all doing at home, and how your dear aunt is, and--Miss Corinne, isn't it? And that very bright young fellow who came with you at Ruth's tea?” It was the last subject that Jack wanted to discuss, but he stumbled through it as best he could, and ended in hoping, in a halting tone, that Miss MacFarlane was well. “Ruth! Oh, she is a darling! Didn't you think so?” Jack blushed to the roots of his hair, but Miss Felicia's all-comprehensive glance never wavered. This was the young man whom Ruth had been mysterious about. She intended to know how far the affair had gone, and it would have been useless, she knew, for Jack to try to deceive her. “All our Southern girls are lovely,” he answered in all sincerity. “And you like them better than the New York belles?” “I don't know any.” “Then that means that you do.” “Do what?” “Do like them better.” The boy thought for a moment. “Yes, and Miss MacFarlane best of all; she is so--so--” the boy faltered--“so sincere, and just the kind of girl you would trust with anything. Why, I told her all about myself before I'd known her half an hour.” “Yes, she was greatly pleased.” The match-making instinct was always uppermost in Miss Felicia's moves, and then, again, this young man had possibilities, his uncle being rich and he being his only nephew. “Oh, then she told you!” The boy's heart gave a great leap. Perhaps, after all, Ruth had not heard--at all events she did not despise him. “No, I told her myself. The only thing that seemed to worry Ruth was that you had not told her enough. If I remember right, she said you were very shy.” “And she did not say anything about--” Jack stopped. He had not intended to put the question quite in this way, although he was still in doubt. Give this keen-eyed, white-haired old lady but an inkling of what was uppermost in his mind and he knew she would have its every detail.