"Yes," replied the lady, "I believe I would. But just a moment before you begin," and regarding this oblivious young man with an expression in which a degree of speculation still lingered to tantalize its suggestion of frank indorsement, she hazarded: "You have not lived in New York long?" Wondering at the acuteness of this observation, Dennis responded by according to her the exact time of his brief residence. "Ah!" exclaimed the lady, "I thought so." "May I ask," inquired Dennis, wondering if, like the visitor from the bucolic district, he supplied unconscious data in his appearance for classification, "may I ask how you are able to tell that I'm here for a short time only?" "Well," returned his companion with a degree of hesitation exquisitely refined as it shadowed through her fine countenance, and which she presently conquered as she replied to his question with that shade of frankness which, in the well-bred, can never be mistaken for anything else: "It requires about a year's residence in this bedlam to replace the genuine with the artificial; I see no evidence of such an unhappy transformation in you." "Oh, I see," responded Dennis. "An' you never will, either." "I am almost prepared to believe that," answered the lady with a reassuring cordiality which somehow indicated to this young man that she had already become convinced of more than she was willing to acknowledge. "You may do so entirely," said Dennis simply. "Now, one question more," continued his companion, "and do not consider me inquisitive, since I may have something to suggest to your advantage if your reply is satisfactory. What is your business?" Dennis blushed. "My business?" he repeated with a droll accent and an amusing grimace; and then, encouraged by the friendly invitation and subtle encouragement in the manner of his sweet-faced listener, with a straightforward recital which the lady had expected from him, and which advanced him several leagues in her estimation, Dennis recounted his experiences from the time of his arrival up to the present moment. "It isn't much," he concluded apologetically, "not anywhere as interesting as the dickey back; but it's all there is, an' it's true, every word." "It is more than you suspect," dissented his hearer. "You have enabled me to come to a decision, at least, and may help me to solve a vexed problem. In the meantime, let us finish the story. While you are reading my mind will clear; I will make my suggestion when you conclude." Wondering, and yet with a prompt confidence which conveyed an agreeable flattery which the cleverest diplomacy could not have achieved, Dennis, holding his absurd medium at a level which permitted him to receive the stimulation of a sympathetic glance now and then, began. CHAPTER VII