at her, and his eyes were the keenest, kindest, most gently
humorous eyes she had ever encountered. You know that
picture of Lincoln that shows us his eyes with much that
expression in them? That's as near as I can come to
conveying to you the whimsical pathos in this man. They
were the eyes of a lonely little boy grown up. And they had
seen much in the process.

Fanny felt her little blaze of anger flicker and die.

"That's the girl," said Heyl, and patted her hand. "You'll
like me--presently. After you've forgotten about that
sniveling kid you hated." He stepped back a pace and threw
back his coat senatorially. "How do I look?" he demanded.

"Look?" repeated Fanny, feebly.

"I've been hours preparing for this. Years! And now
something tells me--This tie, for instance."

Fanny bit her lip in a vain effort to retain her solemnity.
Then she gave it up and giggled, frankly. "Well, since you
ask me, that tie!----"

"What's the matter with it?"

Fanny giggled again. "It's red, that's what."

"Well, what of it! Red's all right. I've always considered
red one of our leading colors."