put on her fluffiest and gone out to him. It was time this most attractive
young man next door paid her more attention.

"How does the hero of the fire survive?" she asked him archly.

"Hero?"

"Don't pretend ignorance. Charles told me all about it. He heard your tale
at the Monumental."

"It's hardly heroism to get out of a scrape the best way possible."

"It's heroic to save lives, I think; but especially heroic to keep your
head in an emergency."

"Mr. Morrell all right?" asked Keith, to change the subject.

"He is sleeping off the fire--and the after effects. You men need watching
every minute--even when we think you must be in danger of your lives."

She laughed and clipped a few flowers at random.

"Have you been moving furniture all these days? We've seen nothing of you.
I thought we were going to have some music. I do my little five-finger
exercises all by myself and nobody knows but I am playing Beethoven. You
ought in Christian charity to help me out--whether you want to or not. What
do you think of our garden? Don't you adore flowers?"

"No, I don't believe I do," replied Keith bluntly. "I like to see a pretty
woman amongst 'em," he went on gallantly, "they set her off. It's like