The girl looked up at him, at first with a hostile expression on her face, which changed suddenly to one of wonder.

“Isn’t this Gordon Keith?”

Gordon’s eyes opened wide.  How could she know him?

“Yes.”

“You don’t know me?” Her eyes were dancing now, and two dimples were flitting about her mouth.  Keith’s memory began to stir.  She put her head on one side.

“‘Lois, if you’ll kiss me I’ll let you ride my horse,’” she said cajolingly.

“Lois Huntington!  It can’t be!” exclaimed Keith, delighted.  “You are just so high.”  Keith measured a height just above his left watch-pocket.  “And you have long hair down your back.”

With a little twist she turned her head and showed him a head of beautiful brown hair done up in a Grecian knot just above the nape of a shapely little neck.

“—­And you have the brightest—­”

She dropped her eyes before his, which were looking right into them—­though not until she had given a little flash from them, perhaps to establish their identity.

“—­And you used to say I was your sw—­”

“Did I?” (this was very demurely said).  “How old was I then?”

“How old are you now?”

“Eighteen,” with a slight straightening of the slim figure.

“Impossible!” exclaimed Keith, enjoying keenly the picture she made.

“All of it,” with a flash of the eyes.

“For me you are just all of seven years old.”

“Do you know who I thought you were?” Her face dimpled.

“Yes; a waiter!”

She nodded brightly.

“It was my good manners.  The waiters have struck me much this evening,” said Keith.

She smiled, and the dimples appeared again.

“That is their business.  They are paid for it.”

“Oh, I see.  Is that the reason others are—­what they are?  Well, I am more than paid.  My recompense is—­you.”

She looked pleased.  “You are the first person I have met!—­Did you have any idea who I was the other evening?” she asked suddenly.

Keith would have given five years of his life to be able to answer yes.  But he said no.  “I only knew you were some one who needed protection,” he said, trying to make the best of a bad situation.  You are too young to be on the street so late.”

“So it appeared.  I had been out for a walk to see old Dr. Templeton and to get a piece of music, and it was later than I thought.”

“Whom are you here with?” inquired Keith, to get off of delicate ground.  “Where are you staying?”

“With my cousin, Mrs. Norman Wentworth.  It is my first introduction into New York life.”

Just then there was a movement toward the supper-room.

Keith suggested that they should go and find Mrs. Norman.  Miss Huntington said, however, she thought she had better remain where she was, as Mrs. Norman had promised to come back.