that Kitty had developed into a charming woman and that her father was in a position to advance certain ambitious schemes he nurtured. He sought to strengthen his acquaintance with the daughter, hoping that it would also lead to an increased intimacy with the father. He ended by greatly admiring the daughter. Finally, it came about, that he was seen in public with her so often and was her escort so frequently, that their relations were recognized by their friends in the making up of dinner parties and other festivities.

Then had come that incomprehensible change in her, in the second summer at Lake Champlain, whither he had followed her for his vacation. On a certain Sunday when her father had run up from the city for a week'send stay with his family, a ride had been prearranged, which included the father and mother. But in the morning of that Sunday, Dunbar had received a curt message of withdrawal from Kitty-a verbal communication through a hall boy. Seeking to learn the reason he had been received by a studied and impenetrable coolness that vouchsafed nothing. He could not understand, for he had parted with her the previous evening on the old terms. Lingering about the hotel for a few days and perceiving no disposition on the part of the girl to modify her attitude, he returned to the

city in an angry frame of mind, condemning her as unjust and unreasonable.

Early in the following season he met her at a dinner. It was at the house of Kitty's great friend, the fascinating widow, Mrs. Hilary Stanford. When the guests were disposed he found he was in such a position that he could neither address Kitty nor see her. He was convinced that the girl had used her influence with her friend to bring that result about. Subsequent meetings, for they moved in the same circle, proved to be so embarrassing that finally he removed to the upper part of Manhattan Island to escape the encounters and thus sever all relations with her.

Now a blundering policeman was acting the part of a directing Providence. For, pointing out that the harness was broken and the horse out of shape and, therefore, must be led to the stable, he insisted that Dunbar should take the lady home, as she must be so "shook up" that she could not be trusted to go alone.

Dunbar could not decline, though Kitty did protest her ability to care for herself. The distance to be covered was not great. The Van Zandt residence was on the Park Slope in Eighth Avenue not far from the entrance to the Park. Both were embarrassed, Kitty manifestly nervous and agitated. As they walked along she ran on excitedly of the swift and

noisy automobile that had frightened her horse in the Plaza; her sensations when she realized that she was being run away with, and her fear that now her father would put an end to her solitary morning drives. So it was that the young man was not called upon to talk.

When they reached her home Kitty asked her companion to enter that her mother might thank him for the great service he had rendered. Dunbar coldly, if courteously, declined, and lifting his hat would have moved away but Kitty detained him.

She was unmistakably confused. A pink flush crept into her face which, with her pleading eyes, made her very pretty.

"Mr. Dunbar," she said, "I have an apology to make. I must plead for pardon-must ask your forgiveness."

Dunbar's face hardened and he was about to give utterance to some senseless conventionality when she stopped him.

"Please let me say what I have to say, for it is not easy," she went on hurriedly. "I did you a wrong last summer and, because of it, treated you badly. I entirely misunderstood a story I heard—it was my misunderstanding, no one else's. I did not learn the truth-the real meaning-until this spring. Then I saw

what a wrong I had done you in my thoughts and how vilely I had treated you and—"

She suddenly broke off as she observed the mystified expression on the young man's face, but she began again hurriedly:

"Please do listen to me. This accident has given me the opportunity I have so longed for and could not make without being wholly misunderstood. I had thought you had acted a mean and bad part and when I heard the truth I learned you had been noble and generous instead."

He could

Dunbar's perplexity increased. not recall any act of his that was particularly mean and bad, much less one in which he had been guilty of nobility and generosity. But Kitty went on:

"Then I saw I had been silly as trying to be, or, believing myself to be, better than my neighbors as sitting in judgment when I alone had been the uncharitable person. And I cannot bring myself to say what it was. So, humbly confessing my fault-the wrong I did you-I beg your forgiveness."

There were actual tears in the eyes of the girl as she pleaded. Dunbar found he was not proof against a feeling of sympathy. He replied with unusual warmth:

"Miss Van Zandt, if an apology is due it is accepted. If a pardon is required it is

given. If my forgiveness is necessary I do forgive."

With the smile he could make very winning when he chose-and this time he chose-he extended his hand. With the light of happiness in her face she took it, asking shyly:

"And you will not further humiliate me by asking what it was?"

"It is quite sufficient to know," he replied, "that what you thought was wrong you now know was not. I shall not seek to discover."

A surrey, bright with new varnish, drawn by a single horse, glittering with the silver trappings of the harness, drew near. Holding the reins was a woman, fair, fat, but not forty, completely surrounded by happy, rosy children, the smallest in her lap, plain contentment on her good-natured but rather vulgar face. She saw Percy and nodded many times while her smile broadened until it overran her expansive countenance. The children waved

their little hands to him delightedly.

Dunbar, with a thrill of pain, made recognition of the greeting. The happy party in the surrey recalled that which had disturbed him in the early morning, and he was conscious of a duty--of an obligation of honor resting upon him and which he did not know how to discharge.

To his surprise he saw that Kitty Van