"Why, of course," said Henrietta, in surprise. "Wouldn't you have been?" Sally was rather sober and serious. "I suppose so. It wouldn't have made any particular difference whether you beat him or not." Henrietta made no reply to this remark. She was sitting on the bed, pretty and dainty, and was tapping her foot lightly on the floor. She gazed at Sally thoughtfully for a long time. Finally Sally got up to go. "Sally," Henrietta asked then, smiling, "haven't you ever thought of him--them--any one"--she hesitated and stammered a little--"in that way?" She did not seem to think it necessary to specify more particularly the way she meant. "There are lots of attractive men here. There's Everett Morton and there's Eugene Spencer, though he's almost too near your own age; but anybody can see that he's perfectly dippy over you. And--" "And there, too," Sally interrupted, "are the Carlings, Harry and Horry, neither of whom you have seen because they happen to be in college. The last time they came home, Harry was wearing a mustache and Horry side-whiskers, so that it would be easy to tell them apart. The only trouble with that device was that I forgot which was which. And there is Ollie Pilcher, and there is--oh, the place is perfectly boiling with men--if it is men that you are looking for." Henrietta gave a little ripple of laughter. "You are too funny, Sally. Of course I am looking for men--or for a man. Girls of our age are always looking for them, whether we know it or not--deep down in our hearts. Remember Margaret Savage? Well, she seems to be looking for Fox, and I shouldn't wonder if he succumbed, in time. She is very pretty." There was a look of resentment in Sally's eyes, but she made no remark. "And I have not finished my list," Henrietta went on. "I can only include the men I have seen to-day. To end the list, there is Dick Torrington. Haven't you--haven't you thought--" Sally flushed slowly; but she smiled and shook her head. "You see, Henrietta," she said apologetically, "I have my teaching to think of--" "Oh, bosh!" cried Henrietta, smiling. "Fox knows," Sally continued, defensively, "and you can't have wholly forgotten, Henrietta." "Bosh, Sally!" said Henrietta again. CHAPTER V IT was but a few steps from Henrietta's door to Sally's own. Sally, her ideas a little confused by that exclamation of Henrietta's and by what it implied, walked those few steps softly and had her hand upon the knob of her own door when she found herself sniffing and realized that she smelt smoke. It was a very faint smell and she hesitated, even then, and stood there in the dark hall, recalling the fires that had been left. There had been no wood fire. She took her hand softly from the knob. "I believe I'll just look around," she told herself. "It's a terrible night for a fire. I hope nobody'll take me for a burglar."