'Some day when you come home,' said Hazel, 'you will find this room tenanted solely by a heap of cards, invitations, enquiries and congratulations. Exploring therein cautiously, you may perhaps discover the top of my head!' 'Oh!'—said Dane. 'I will carry you away before it gets to be so bad as that. This is an old fellow-student of mine, Hazel; an odd, clever, careless, unselfish fellow, who has never got along in the world. He took to art, came to America, on account of some family troubles at home; and here he was a good deal petted in society. Now he is ill, and alone, and I fear very poor. He is at a boarding house, where I suspect he cannot pay his bills; quite alone. He had not a friend. Nor, I am afraid, a sou.' 'And you are going off to take care of him?' said Hazel, facing round with sudden interest. 'Off, where?' 'Why, wherever he is. To his hotel, or his room.' 'I have just come from him. He is not suffering from acute illness now; but he is pining away, I think, for want of good food and fresh air, and home. You see, we were comrades together in Göttingen; and he comes from over there. He was very glad to see me.' 'Art?' said Hazel. 'Is he a painter?' 'He was a painter.' 'Do send him off to paint Dr. Maryland's portrait! There is nothing Prim wants so much; Consign him to Mrs. Bywank.' Rollo's eye brightened and warmed; but he went on. 'He may never paint again, Hazel. If we receive him, it _may_ be that it will only be to see him fade away in the midst of us.' 'Well— What then?' she added softly after a minute. 'It may be a matter of months, Hazel.' She looked gravely up and down. 'But nothing else—that I can think of—would be so much like home.' The kisses which answered her were energetic enough to speak without words; and when a few minutes later dinner was served, Rollo came to the table with the air of a satisfied man. And then he told Hazel stories about Göttingen. 'Prim writes that Mrs. Coles is coming to town,' said Hazel, later in the meal, when roast venison had superseded student life. 'Prudentia!—When?' 'Next week. Shall we be away?' 'No,' said Dane smiling. 'I wish we could.' And then he was silent, and the dessert was on the table before he alluded to the subject again. 'Hazel,' he said suddenly, 'write and ask Prim to come with Mrs. Coles and stay a few days. It will be a great delight to both of them.' 'No, indeed,' said Hazel promptly. 'No? why?' said Dane with a laugh in his eyes which he let come no further. 'I never ask people that I hope will refuse.' 'Ask and hope they will come! Don't you think you and I could stand Prudentia for a week?' Wych Hazel glanced at him from under her eyelashes. 'I can stand most things,' she said, 'that you can. But you must write the letter.' 'Must I? Would you like to state the reason?' 'Hard to state euphoniously. Because—I—do not mean to do it!'