chance. It's nothing to be ashamed of, is it, to like little children?"

"I like 'em. I always have."

"Well, I always haven't. Only very lately--it's queer. When I came home
here and found all those children next door--mercy gracious!"

They both laughed. Laughing together is a great acquaintancer. Miss
Thedosia suddenly thought of something and laughed a little more.

"My name is Theodosia Baxter," she said. They rose and shook hands
gravely. They were decently introduced. The beautiful shiny bosom of the
shirt lay between them like a white mirror and Miss Theodosia caught the
man's glance on it.

"Is it anything to be ashamed of--doing up a shirt?" she demanded.

"Not doing it up like that! That's a work of art!"

"A work of heart--I did it for Stefana. I've got quite fond of it now,
and shall hate to part with it. It's a friend."

"A bosom friend," he parried. Again they laughed and grew more
acquainted. Miss Theodosia made tea in her dainty Sevres cups. The
faintest flecks of pink made her face youthful. Miss Theodosia was a
good-looking woman always, but, animated, her face was really lovely.
John Bradford was better used to paper women, like paper babies, but his
taste recognized flesh-and-blood attractiveness. He had always been a
lonely man--until now.