With a mighty effort, Dick caught hold of himself, as it were, and gazed around with an air of defiance. To his amazement, no one was paying the least attention to him. Only his fair partner was looking up into his face with mingled amusement, wonder and admiration written on her features. "In California; I think it was year before last," he said glibly. Amy laughed--"But I never was in California in my life, so you must be mistaken." Then, as Dick swept the room with another anxious glance: "What is the matter, Mr. Falkner; are you looking for someone?" "I was wondering where Charlie Bowen went to," he answered desperately. "I didn't know but what he would want me to turn the ice-cream freezer or something." [Illustration: "Mr. Falkner, I wish to present you to a very dear friend."] Miss Goodrich laughed again. "You're the funniest man," she said, and something in her voice or manner brought Dick to his senses with a jar. "Well," he said, with a smile, "if I am mistaken I am very sorry, I assure you." "About the ice cream?" "No, about having met you before." "Oh, sorry that you thought you had met me?" Dick protested to some length with much unnecessary earnestness, and at last suggested that they find seats. Miss Goodrich agreed, and leading the way to an adjoining room, discovered a cushioned corner near the window. "Do you know," she said, when they were seated, "I, too, feel as you do?" "About the ice-cream?" retorted Dick. "No," she laughed, "about having met you before." "Indeed, I am glad." "Glad?" "Yes, that you feel as I do." "Truly," she said, ignoring his reply, "you _do_ remind me of someone I have seen somewhere. Oh, I know; it's that tramp printer of Mr. Udell's, I--Why, what is the matter, Mr. Falkner? Are you sick? Let me call someone." "No, no," gasped Dick. "I'll be all right in a moment. It's my heart. Please don't worry." He caught up a basket of pictures. "Here, let's look at these. I find nothing that has a more quieting effect than the things one finds on the center tables of our American homes." Amy looked uneasy but began turning over the pictures in the basket. There were some commonplace photos of commonplace people, a number of homemade kodaks, one or two stray views of Yellowstone Park, the big trees of California, Niagara Falls, and several groups that were supposed to be amusing. "Oh, here's a picture of that printer," she cried, picking up one which showed the interior of an old-fashioned printing office, with a Washington hand-press and a shock-headed printer's devil sitting on a high stool, his face and shirt-front bespattered with ink. "That looks just like him. Why,--why, Mr. Falkner, you've torn that picture! What _will_ Helen Mayfield say?" "Awfully sorry," said Dick, "I'll find her another. It was very awkward of me, I am sure." Then in desperation, "But tell me more about this printer of whom I remind you; what was his name?"