"Yes. You see how fair she is," I answered.

"And she has that transparent look. It is so lovely. Don't you think so?
SHE is one of the White People."

He stood very still, looking across the flowers at the group. There was
a singular interest and intensity in his expression. He watched the pair
silently for a whole minute, I think.

"Ye-es," he said, slowly, at last, "I do see what you mean--and it IS
lovely. I don't seem to know her well. She must be a new friend of my
mother's. So she is one of the White People?"

"She looks like a white iris herself, doesn't she?" I said. "Now you
know."

"Yes; now I know," he answered.

I asked Mrs. MacNairn later who the girl was, but she didn't seem to
recognize my description of her. Mr. Le Breton had gone away by that
time, and so had the girl herself.

"The tall, very fair one in the misty, pale-gray dress," I said. "She
was near Mr. Le Breton when he was looking at the iris-bed. You were
cutting some roses only a few yards away from her. That VERY fair girl?"

Mrs. MacNairn paused a moment and looked puzzled.

"Mildred Keith is fair," she reflected, "but she was not there then. I