adjoining room had arrested his attention. He listened to it critically
and then smiled.

"A good workman," he said, "is turning a screw into wood."

"How clever of you," said Barbara. "There was a man coming from
Schlemmer's to put on some glass knobs for me. Bubbles has brought him
in by the back stairs."

The faint crunching sound of the screw going into the wood ceased. There
was a knock on the door.

"Come in," said Barbara.

Bubbles appeared in the opening. "We're all through in here."

It did not at once strike Barbara that to have finished his work in the
next room the man from Schlemmer's must have arrived upon the scene very
much earlier than he had promised. And she could not by any possibility
have guessed that Bubbles, in a state of nervous alarm, had slipped down
the back stairs and run all the way to the hardware store to fetch him.

"He may as well begin in here, then," she said; "I'm through for this
morning." And she turned to the beggar. "To-morrow--at the same time?"

He nodded briefly, but did not at once turn to go. He wished, it seemed,
to have a good look at the young workman who now followed Bubbles into
the studio. And so did Barbara, the moment she saw him.

To her critical eye he was quite the best-looking young man she had ever