to reach the girl's side. The doctor smiled at
the young man's impetuosity, bent his head to Lucy,
and turned to where Jane was standing awaiting the
arrival of her other guests.

The young man extended his hand. "I'm Bart
Holt," he exclaimed; "you haven't forgotten me,
Miss Lucy, have you? We used to play together.
Mighty glad to see you--been expecting you for a
week."

Lucy colored slightly and arched her head in a
coquettish way. His frankness pleased her; so did
the look of unfeigned admiration in his eyes.

"Why, of course I haven't forgotten you, Mr.
Holt. It was so nice of you to come," and she gave
him the tips of her fingers--her own eyes meanwhile,
in one comprehensive glance, taking in his
round head with its closely cropped curls, searching
brown eyes, wavering mouth, broad shoulders, and
shapely body, down to his small, well-turned feet.
The young fellow lacked the polish and well-bred
grace of the doctor, just as he lacked his well-cut
clothes and distinguished manners, but there was a
sort of easy effrontery and familiar air about him
that some of his women admirers encouraged and
others shrank from. Strange to say, this had appealed
to Lucy before he had spoken a word.