Mrs. Tiffany saw with relief that her disgraced protege managed his end of the introduction very well, although he did make a slight advance to shake hands with the critical Mrs. Goodyear. He gave no sign to show that he perceived the men over on the piazza. Mr. Heath, his Fidus Achates, cast a slight glance in their direction; then, seeing Bertram settle himself down in an arm-chair and begin at once to address Mrs. Goodyear, he sat down likewise, suffused with an air of young embarrassment. Mrs. Ruggles, seated next to him, began with visible tact the effort to put him at his ease. Mr. Chester, as he talked to Mrs. Goodyear, looked always toward Eleanor. She, helping Mrs. Tiffany with the tea things, turning a caressing word now and then toward Teresa Morse, might not have noticed, for all her expression showed. The men came over for tea, were introduced. Mrs. Tiffany, in her foolish anxiety for the manners and appearance of her protege, noted that he was at home with men, at least. Mr. Goodyear, indeed, clutched with his eye at the blue-and-gold button in the lapel of Bertram's coat, at the figure of him, and at the name. "You aren't Chester who played tackle on the Berkeley Varsity last season?" he asked. An old Harvard oar, Goodyear kept up his interest in athletics. "Tackle and half," said the youth. "Yes, sir." "Well, well, I remember you in the game!" said Goodyear. Mrs. Tiffany, now that her protege no longer needed watching, had returned to her tea things. "Eleanor," she called. "Will you run into the house and get that box of chocolate wafers that's over the ice chest?" "Let me carry 'em for you, Miss Gray," put in Chester, breaking through a college reminiscence of Goodyear's. Eleanor never flicked an eyelash as she announced: "I should be very glad." Tiffany, glancing over the group, noted with comparative relief that none but she, Goodyear, and the young persons involved, had heard this passage. As they moved toward the house, Bertram opened upon Miss Gray at once. "This is the second chance I've had alone at you," he said. "We are rather conspicuous," she burst out. "Oh, nobody'll mind. A girl always thinks everybody is looking at her. Besides, I wouldn't care if they were. I've wanted to tell you something, and I couldn't with Heath trailing us. You've got awfully nice eyes." Eleanor seemed to see neither the necessity nor the convenience of an answer. "But you have!" he persisted. "They're better than pretty. They're nice." Again Eleanor said nothing. It seemed to her that there was nothing to say. "I know why you've got it in for me," he burst out. "You have, you know. When I speak to you, you never talk back, and yesterday you wouldn't let me stay after I had corralled the bull. It's because I'm working for your uncle. It's because I'm making a living, not eating what someone else made for me like--" he swept his hand backward toward the company on the lawn--"like those people out there."