“It makes me like you, and that's quite enough. I don't want other people to like you!” “Yes, that's what I mean!” cried Alice; and now she flung herself on his neck, and the tears came. “Do you suppose it can be very pleasant to have everybody talking of you as if everybody loved you as much--as much as I do?” She clutched him tighter and sobbed. “O Alice! Alice! Alice! Nobody could ever be what you are to me!” He soothed and comforted her with endearing words and touches; but before he could have believed her half consoled she pulled away from him, and asked, with shining eyes, “Do you think Mr. Boardman is a good influence in your life?” “Boardman!” cried Mavering, in astonishment. “Why, I thought you liked Boardman?” “I do; and I respect him very much. But that isn't the question. Don't you think we ought to ask ourselves how others influence us?” “Well, I don't see much of Boardy nowadays; but I like to drop down and touch earth in Boardy once in a while--I'm in the air so much. Board has more common-sense, more solid chunk-wisdom, than anybody I know. He's kept me from making a fool of myself more times--” “Wasn't he with you that day with--with those women in Portland?” Dan winced a little, and then laughed. “No, he wasn't. That was the trouble. Boardman was off on the press boat. I thought I told you. But if you object to Boardman--” “I don't. You mustn't think I object to people when I ask you about them. All that I wished was that you should think yourself what sort of influence he was. I think he's a very good influence.” “He's a splendid fellow, Boardman is, Alice!” cried Dan. “You ought to have seen how he fought his way through college on such a little money, and never skulked or felt mean. He wasn't appreciated for it; the men don't notice these things much; but he didn't want to have it noticed; always acted as if it was neither here nor there; and now I guess he sends out home whatever he has left after keeping soul and body together every week.” He spoke, perhaps, with too great an effect of relief. Alice listened, as it seemed, to his tone rather than his words, and said absently-- “Yes, that's grand. But I don't want you to act as if you were afraid of me in such things.” “Afraid?” Dan echoed. “I don't mean actually afraid, but as if you thought I couldn't be reasonable; as if you supposed I didn't expect you to make mistakes or to be imperfect.” “Yes, I know you're very reasonable, and you're more patient with me than I deserve; I know all that, and it's only my wish to come up to your standard, I suppose, that gives me that apprehensive appearance.” “That was what vexed me with you there at Campobello, when you--asked me--” “Yes, I know.” “You ought to have understood me better. You ought to know now that I don't wish you to do anything on my account, but because it's something we owe to others.”