sociable. I told him I wanted to ask you first, but he said Mrs. Penniman had invited him. He isn’t particular what he says when he wants to come somewhere! But Mrs. Penniman seems to think it’s all right.”

“We are very glad to see him,” said Catherine. And she wished to talk more about him; but she hardly knew what to say. “I never saw him before,” she went on presently.

Arthur Townsend stared.

“Why, he told me he talked with you for over half an hour the other night.”

“I mean before the other night. That was the first time.”

“Oh, he has been away from New York—he has been all round the world. He doesn’t know many people here, but he’s very sociable, and he wants to know every one.”

“Every one?” said Catherine.

“Well, I mean all the good ones. All the pretty young ladies—like Mrs. Penniman!” and Arthur Townsend gave a private laugh.

“My aunt likes him very much,” said Catherine.

“Most people like him—he’s so brilliant.”

“He’s more like a foreigner,” Catherine suggested.

“Well, I never knew a foreigner!” said young Townsend, in a tone which seemed to indicate that his ignorance had been optional.

“Neither have I,” Catherine confessed, with more humility. “They say they are generally brilliant,” she added vaguely.

“Well, the people of this city are clever enough for me. I know some of them that think they are too clever for me; but they ain’t!”

“I suppose you can’t be too clever,” said Catherine, still with humility.

“I don’t know. I know some people that call my cousin too clever.”

Catherine listened to this statement with extreme interest, and a feeling that if Morris Townsend had a fault it would naturally be that one. But she did not commit herself, and in a moment she asked: “Now that he has come back, will he stay here always?”

“Ah,” said Arthur, “if he can get something to do.”

“Something to do?”

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