"Or one of the college magazines," growled Lucian. "People who are just beginning to write always love to talk about temperament." "Well," persisted Robert, "Fritz Tomkins says that Mrs. Redmond says that you have great talent." "Oh, yes," responded Martine, laughing, "my class at the Mansion considers me a true artist, because I can paint trees and grass that look real; but to tell you the truth, Robert, and to show you that you're not wholly wrong, I will admit that if I hadn't been so busy at school, I should have studied with Mrs. Redmond this spring. I just wish I had time for a sketching class, but fond as I am of riding, I can barely manage an hour's ride twice a week. That reminds me, Lucian," and Martine turned to her brother, "if you can afford a new auto, I surely can afford a new riding-horse. Wherever we go this summer, I mean to ride." "No, no," cried Lucian, "that is, I probably shall not have the auto, much as I want it." "Don't worry," said Robert, "you'll get it in season; if it isn't out by June, they'll have it for you in July." "Oh, that wasn't what I meant," rejoined Lucian, "only--" but at this moment he did not explain what he really had intended to say. The next evening Lucian came home to dinner. "What an unexpected honor," said Martine. "I've never known you to favor us with a Monday visit. You look rather glum, too," she added with sisterly frankness. "Is anything the matter?" "No, no," he said, "nothing special. You shouldn't be so curious." "I can read you like a book," replied Martine. "You are worrying over your finals and you ought to be ashamed of yourself. If I were a Harvard Sophomore, with all my time to use as I liked, I wouldn't be in such a state of mind over a few questions, for that's all an examination amounts to." "There, there, Martine, don't worry your brother," interposed Mrs. Stratford, joining them. "But he is so foolish," continued Martine, "just as if he hadn't as good a chance as anybody else." "To be perfectly frank," said Lucian at last, "you have no idea, little sister, what you are talking about; so the least said, soonest mended." Conversation during dinner proceeded cheerfully. Lucian was evidently making an effort to remove the impression that he was troubled about anything. But a little later, after their mother had left the room, Lucian drew his chair nearer Martine's and began to talk in an undertone. "You are right, Martine," he said, "I am troubled. I have something serious to say." Martine's heart beat nervously. She knew that boys in college sometimes did things that they should not do. Lucian had several friends of whom she did not approve. Into what mischief might they not lead him?