Miss Ferris was displeased. "Tell him," she said, "that I can't have my apartment turned into a Young Men's Club." "Yes, miss." Bubbles retired, reluctantly, with the message, only to return in a moment. "He says will you let him speak to you a moment, please." She hesitated. And then, "Yes," she said. "I suppose he wishes to apologize." He was even more charming-looking than the memory of him. She made an effort to look a little displeased, and a little unfriendly. She failed, because the May-weather message had gotten into her blood, and because certain forces of which as yet she knew little had established connecting links between herself and the young secret-service agent. "I am going to scold you," said Barbara. "Bubbles has his work to do." "But I was helping him with it." "He said you were just sitting and--and chinning." "When we had finished working." "Have you been here long?" The young man looked her steadily in the face, and said gravely: "Ever since Blizzard came." Barbara lifted her chin a little. "I am quite able to take care of myself," she said. He shook his head sadly. "Do you make it your business"--she had succeeded in making herself angry--"to keep an eye on all young women whom you fancy unable to take care of themselves?" "I only wish to God I could," he said earnestly. "But of course it's impossible. So I just do the best I can." "And why have you chosen me? Surely others are even _more_ helpless than I am." She managed to convey a good deal of scorn. "Why," she continued, "must I be the particular creature singled out for your chivalrous notice?" "I don't know," he said simply. All the anger went out of Barbara, and a delicious little thrill passed through her from head to foot, leaving in its wake a clear rosy coloring. "Bubbles," said the young man, "would die for you; but he is only a little boy. I am very strong." Barbara refused to rise at the implication that the strong young man was also ready and even eager to die for her. "Tell me more about Blizzard," she said. "He's one of the half-dozen men in the city that we would like to have an eye on night and day. We want him." "Oh," she said, "then you are not here entirely on my account? It is also your business to be here?" He nodded, not altogether pleased with the turn the matter had taken. "In that case," she said, "I have no wish to stand in your way. But--I don't propose to be a cat's-paw. You may sit in Bubbles's room if you like, but I won't have you on your hands and knees at the studio door listening at the key-hole. That must be understood." The young man flushed with righteous anger. "You don't _look_" he said, "as if you could say a thing like that to a fellow." Instantly, and almost humbly, she begged his pardon. "Then I may come to-morrow?" he asked. "And the next day," said Barbara. "And, by the way, what is your name?" "Harry," he said. "Harry what?"