Honor, while equally desirous of speaking to Victoria, was perfectly willing to do so in Katherine’s presence. The three had always been in the habit of talking freely together, and so Honor opened the subject at once. “Why do you always try to avoid the Madisons, Vic?” said she, suddenly. Victoria started guiltily. How strange, she thought, that Honor should have pounced upon the very topic that was occupying her mind. “Do I?” said she. It was a difficult matter for Victoria to attempt evasion. “Yes. You know you do. There must be some reason for it. We have all noticed it, and Miss Madison spoke of it this afternoon.” “I don’t try to avoid _her_,” said Victoria. “No, we know that,” said Katherine, “but you do avoid Roger, and it is very strange.” “Roger! Do you call him Roger?” asked Victoria, somewhat icily. “Oh, no, of course not to his face,” rejoined Katherine, impatiently, “but I hear his sister speak of him so often that I did it then without thinking.” “I don’t think you ought to,” said Honor. “You might do it without thinking before him.” “You must think I am very stupid,” laughed Katherine, “and I am not quite so ignorant of the ways of the world as all that! Honor, you are too funny about Roger Mad—I mean, Mr. Madison, begging all your pardons! He is so nice and jolly, and sings so well, but you never will go there much, and Vic is still queerer. Come now, Vicky, and tell us why you run away from him.” “I can’t tell you anything,” replied Victoria, in a somewhat stifled voice. “I wish you wouldn’t ask me such unnecessary questions.” “They are not unnecessary, dear,” said Honor, gently. “If you have any reason for doing it, you really ought to tell us. When it reaches such a pass that even little Sophy speaks of it, and repeated before us all this afternoon what you said to Mr. Madison the day you met him in Peter’s room, I really think you ought to explain.” “Did Sophy do that?” exclaimed Victoria. “What did she say?” “That you begged Mr. Madison not to tell any one, and that you had tried not to meet him, and that no one knew it. It is certainly very mysterious, Vic, and I think you ought to tell us.” Victoria, sitting on the steps with her white dress gleaming in the moonlight, was silent. She would like to tell them the whole story. Should she do so? But then, if Katherine—she stopped short, even in her thoughts. She wished that her Aunt Sophia had never presented so disagreeable an idea to her imagination. Should she tell them, or should she not? It would be a distinct relief to talk it over with them, and to feel free at last from the burden of a secret. She was about to speak when Katherine motioned to her to be silent. “Wait a minute,” Katherine said in a whisper. She had been watching intently the clump of trees and shrubbery, near the side of the house, which separated them from the flower garden. “I’m sure I heard something or somebody moving, and I thought I saw the shadow of a man. Who can it be?”