ice into the box, seemed to have regained her spirits. The
little dog, which was an indicator of her moods, had likewise
lost its nervousness. When Kuroki had tea ready, the dog lay
down at his mistress' feet, beside the table.

"Dear little Teddy," said the lady, patting the animal upon the
head.

"Teddy?" said Cleggett.

"I have named him," she said, "after a great American. To my
mind, the greatest--Theodore Roosevelt. His championship of the
cause of votes for women at a time when mere politicians were
afraid to commit themselves is enough in itself to gain him a
place in history."

She spoke with a kindling eye, and Cleggett had no doubt that
there was before him one of those remarkable women who make the
early part of the twentieth century so different from any other
historical period. And he was one with her in her admiration for
Roosevelt--a man whose facility in finding adventures and whose
behavior when he had found them had always made a strong appeal
to Cleggett. If he could not have been Cleggett he would have
liked to have been either the Chevalier d'Artagnan or Theodore
Roosevelt.

"He is a great man," said Cleggett.

But the lady, with her second cup of tea in her hand, was
evidently thinking of something else. Leaning back in her chair,