Hildegarde complied and life went on as before—only that Hildegarde showed herself less ready to fall in with Bella’s ecstasies. An instinct to forestall a possible jealousy made her cavil from time to time. “Don’t you think his shoulders are too broad for his height?” “No, I don’t, and look how splendidly he carries them. You have to see him beside a huge man, like Mr. Mar, before you realize—” “Yes, yes; _that’s_ true,” Hildegarde hastened to heal the wound. “And, anyhow, I don’t think it’s kind of you to run Louis down. I am always very nice about Jack.” The end of it was that Cheviot came more and more to the Mar house, and seemed so diverted when he found the lively Bella there, that Hildegarde gave herself up without reserve to the three-cornered friendship. He took the girls boating and organized parties to the Tule Lands, and was altogether a most invaluable ally in the agreeable pursuit of being a young lady in her first season. Still, when Bella praised him absolutely without moderation, “Y-yes,” Hildegarde would respond, “he is _nice_, only—” “Only what?” says Miss Bella, instantly on the defensive. “Well, you know I prefer big men.” “Of course you do. It’s being so massive yourself. But he’s exactly the right size for me.” “Oh, yes, and he’s quite the nicest of all the Valdivia boys.” “Well, that’s going pretty far,” says Bella, with an edge in her voice. Then the other, with that recurrent though only half-conscious need to show that after all, she, Hildegarde, wasn’t dazzled—not being in Bella’s state, _she_ could see blemishes—the older girl would add: “And yet somehow for all his niceness, and making us always have a good time when he’s there, to my thinking there’s something terribly unromantic about Louis Cheviot.” “Now you only say that,” retorts Miss Bella, with sparkling eyes, “because he’s in a bank.” “No—no,” vaguely, “but I don’t believe he’s got any soul.” “Just because he isn’t hunting the North Pole!” “No. That isn’t the reason. I assure you it isn’t.” “Then it _can_ only be because he likes to laugh at everything.” “He _is_ pretty frivolous,” said Hildegarde, “and he ridicules friendship. But no, it’s not that, either. It’s because he’s kind of chilling. To _me_.” “Chilling to you?” Bella beamed. “Oh, do tell me about that.” “Sometimes he’s positively rude.” “To _you_?” Bella could have danced. “To anybody.” “Oh, but _when_ was he positively rude to you? How black-hearted of you, Hildegarde, not to tell me that before! You might have known I’d simply _love_ hearing about that.” Hildegarde laughed. “Why, I haven’t seen you since Thursday.” “Was it at your birthday party?” “Yes, at the birthday party.” “Well, well, how did he do it? What did he say?” “It was after we’d all been reading the poem that came with Eddie Cox’s present. Louis made fun of it.” “That was only being rude to Eddie.” Bella’s face fell.