She did not at once recognize him.

"You remember I was in here the other night--and you wouldn't sell--tin
soldiers--."

She flushed a little. "Oh, with your father?"

"Yes. He's a dear old chap--."

It was the best apology he could make, and she loved him for it.

He brought out the cup and set it on the counter. "It is like yours?"

"Yes." But she did not want to take it.

"Please. I brought it on purpose. We have a dozen."

"Of these?"

"Yes."

"But it will break your set."

"We have oodles of sets. Dad collects--you know-- There are dishes
enough in the house to start a crockery shop."

She glanced at him curiously. It was hard to reconcile this slim young
man of fashion with the shabby boy of the other night. But there were
the lad's eyes, smiling into hers!