He was so pleasant and jolly that she couldn't help laughing. "I'm afraid not," she said, shaking her head.
He stood with his hand on the window-sash. "Do you know my name?" he asked.
"No."
"It's Lorenzo, Lorenzo Rath. I've to grow famous with that name. Think of it."
She laughed again.
"I can draw the outside of the house, anyhow—can't I?"
"Dear me, I suppose so,"—she picked up the tray,—"you must go now, though. Good-by."
"Good-by," he cried after her.
"Oh, see the steam," was Susan's exultant exclamation, as she entered her room. "I ain't seen steam coming out of a teapot's nose for upwards of three years. Matilda just couldn't seem to stand my taking my tea hot, and she's my only sister, and I humor her. Who was you talking to?"
"A man who came down on the stage yesterday. He was out walking and didn't know that I lived here."