As she raised herself she saw a thick-set figure approaching her across the square; and a moment later she was shaking hands with Elmer Moffatt. In the bright spring air he looked seasonably glossy and prosperous; and she noticed that he wore a bunch of violets in his buttonhole. His small black eyes twinkled with approval as they rested on her, and Undine reflected that, with Paul's arms about her neck, and his little flushed face against her own, she must present a not unpleasing image of young motherhood. "That the heir apparent?" Moffatt asked; adding "Happy to make your acquaintance, sir," as the boy, at Undine's bidding, held out a fist sticky with sugarplums. "He's been spending the afternoon with his grandfather, and they played so hard that he's sleepy," she explained. Little Paul, at that stage in his career, had a peculiar grace of wide-gazing deep-lashed eyes and arched cherubic lips, and Undine saw that Moffatt was not insensible to the picture she and her son composed. She did not dislike his admiration, for she no longer felt any shrinking from him--she would even have been glad to thank him for the service he had done her husband if she had known how to allude to it without awkwardness. Moffatt seemed equally pleased at the meeting, and they looked at each other almost intimately over Paul's tumbled curls. "He's a mighty fine fellow and no mistake--but isn't he rather an armful for you?" Moffatt asked, his eyes lingering with real kindliness on the child's face. "Oh, we haven't far to go. I'll pick up a cab at the corner." "Well, let me carry him that far anyhow," said Moffatt. Undine was glad to be relieved of her burden, for she was unused to the child's weight, and disliked to feel that her skirt was dragging on the pavement. "Go to the gentleman, Pauly--he'll carry you better than mother," she said. The little boy's first movement was one of recoil from the ruddy sharp-eyed countenance that was so unlike his father's delicate face; but he was an obedient child, and after a moment's hesitation he wound his arms trustfully about the red gentleman's neck. "That's a good fellow--sit tight and I'll give you a ride," Moffatt cried, hoisting the boy to his shoulder. Paul was not used to being perched at such a height, and his nature was hospitable to new impressions. "Oh, I like it up here--you're higher than father!" he exclaimed; and Moffatt hugged him with a laugh. "It must feel mighty good to come uptown to a fellow like you in the evenings," he said, addressing the child but looking at Undine, who also laughed a little. "Oh, they're a dreadful nuisance, you know; but Paul's a very good boy." "I wonder if he knows what a friend I've been to him lately," Moffatt went on, as they turned into Fifth Avenue. Undine smiled: she was glad he should have given her an opening. "He shall be told as soon as he's old enough to thank you. I'm so glad you came to Ralph about that business."