A distant crash of breaking crockery, an infantile shriek, an exclamation of deep dismay preceded a hasty opening of the closed door. The ingenuous countenance of the man was thrust hastily within. "Oh, I beg your pardon! but could you come out and--er--help me a minute? Buster has tipped the milk all over himself, and I--oh, please do--that's a good girl--. I don't know what in thunder--. Hold hard, old fellow, I'm coming!" The last by way of reply to the frenzied shrieks of rage and despair which issued from the rear. Jane's austere expression relaxed perceptibly as she surveyed the agitated and imploring countenance of the young American. "Oh, thanks; you're awfully good!" he was saying, as Jane arose, preparatory to accompanying him to the scene of the disaster. "I just set the bowl of milk on the table, you know--he wanted milk by the time we had reached the commissariat--and while I was hustling for the bread, he reached up to investigate and--you see what followed." The infant was seated in a pool of milk on the floor; milk dripped slowly from his flaxen curls, the tip of his chubby nose, and his pink cheeks. His round fists were applied to his milky eyes, while his rosy mouth emitted scream after scream of anguish. "Is he hurt?" inquired Jane, in a business-like tone. "He must have caught a whack of the bowl as it fell, I suppose," admitted the man. "What shall we do?" Jane had already helped herself to an apron which hung conveniently near; she turned up her cuffs. "A towel and a basin, please," she suggested. Then she stooped over the howling infant and lifted him gently to his feet. "Do 'way!" he shrieked, thrashing out vigorously with fists and feet; "I want my muzzer!" Jane skillfully evaded the attacks, while she plied the towel with a calm mastery of the situation, which roused the wonder and warm admiration of the man. "Just quit that kicking, won't you, Buster?" he suggested, in a conciliatory tone. "I declare, I believe I've found a--stick of candy--no--but it's a nickel to buy one with." The magic word so mendaciously inserted acted with its accustomed power. Jane, busy with her beneficent offices in which the towel and basin played a conspicuous part, scarcely noticed the fact that the young American, whom she had so recently decided to ignore, was kneeling close at her side apparently intent upon a well-meant attempt at assistance. "Why, Jack Everett--what in the world!" exclaimed an unfamiliar voice from the doorway. All three participants in the late tragedy raised their eyes to the pretty and--to Jane's notion--somewhat too smartly dressed young woman, who was surveying the scene in an attitude of extreme surprise. The man rose rather shamefacedly to his feet; the small boy, breaking away from Jane, dashed forward with a loud, ecstatic whoop to precipitate himself and his milky pinafore upon the lady; while Jane hastily turned down her cuffs, a deep flush of vexation mounting to her forehead.