"He

wasn't from Peoria," said Joe, slowly.

"Well, it doesn't matter where he was from. How clever you

are, Joe --and--kiss me, Joe--and what made you ever suspect that I wasn't

giving music lessons to Clementina?"

"I

didn't," said Joe, "until to-night. And I wouldn't have then, only I

sent up this cotton waste and oil from the engine-room this afternoon for a

girl upstairs who had her hand burned with a smoothing-iron. I've been firing

the engine in that laundry for the last two weeks."

"And then you didn't--"

"My purchaser from Peoria," said Joe, "and Gen.

Pinkney are both creations of the same art--but you wouldn't call it either

painting or music.

And then they both laughed, and Joe began:

"When one loves one's Art no service seems--"

But Delia stopped him with her hand on his lips. "No,"

she said-- "just 'When one loves.'&quo...