She slipped out of her overall, and with swift touches adjusted her hat at a small mirror. The secret-service agent once more rose from his knees. "Good-by," said Barbara, "and thank you, and don't forget." "Never," said he. She shook hands with him, and his firm strong clasp, literally swallowing her own little hand, was immensely pleasant to her and of a fine friendliness. "Good-by, Bubbles. See you in the morning." "Good-by, Miss Barbara." She was gone. The man resumed his work. The boy watched. "Harry." "What?" "Was I right?" "Right." [Illustration: Harry, the workman, ... rose to his feet, and turned to Barbara with a certain quiet eagerness] "A wonder--or not?" "A wonder." "Harry." "What?" "You won't leave Blizzard up to me all alone, will you? Not _now_, you won't?" "No, Bubbles, not now. Whenever he's posing in this room, you and I won't be far off." "Because," said Bubbles, smiling with relief, "I'd do my best, but if it came to a show-down with _him_ there ain't a thing I _could_ do." "One time or another," said Harry, "we'll _get_ him. You and I will." "I betcher," said Bubbles. And in his little peaked face there was much that was threatening to the ultimate welfare of the legless beggar. X Barbara, ordinarily clear-minded and single-minded, drove uptown with her thoughts in a state of chaos. She wished to think only about her newly begun head of Satan fallen, since nothing else seemed to her at the moment of any importance, but the face, hands, and voice of the young secret-service agent refused to be banished, and kept suing for kindly notice. In almost the exact degree in which the legless beggar was repulsive to her sense of perfection the secret-service agent was attractive. She had never seen a man so agreeable to her eyes. And yet, as a marine artist might see fame in painting a wreck upon a sea-shore, rather than a fine new ship under full sail, so she felt that, artistically considered, there was no comparison whatever between the two men. The face of the elder compelled attention and study, and loosed in the observer's mind a whole stream of conjecture and unanswerable questions. The face of the younger began and ended perhaps in the attractions of youth and high spirits. It was a face of which, should the mind back of it prove wanting, you might tire, and learn to look upon as commonplace.