stopped me."

The beautiful color had spread and deepened in her cheeks, and
there was something indescribably sweet and considerate in her tone
of apology. Charles Osmond was touched by it.

"It is I who should apologize," he said. "I am not at all sure
that I was justified in sitting there quietly, knowing that you
were under a delusion; but it is always very delightful to me in
this artificial world to meet any one who talks quite naturally,
and the interest of hearing your view of the question kept me
silent. You must forgive me, and as you know I am too nice to be
a clergyman--"

"Oh, I beg your pardon. How rude I have been," cried Erica,
blushing anew; "but you did make me say it."

"Of course, and I take it as a high compliment from you," said
Charles Osmond, laughing again at the recollection. "Come, may we
not seal our friendship? We have been sufficiently frank with each
other to be something more than acquaintances for the future."

Erica held out her hand and found it taken in a strong, firm clasp,
which somehow conveyed much more than an ordinary handshake.

"And, after all, you ARE too nice for a clergyman!" she thought to
herself. Then, as a fresh idea crossed her mind, she suddenly
exclaimed: "But you came to tell us about Mr. Randolph's roughs,
did you not? How came you to care that we should know beforehand?"