The door was ajar; and after tapping gently, she put up her small hands to shield her eyes from the glare of the candle he held, as he came to answer her summons, looking wonderingly out to see who it might be. "Dorothy!" he exclaimed, as he saw the little yellow-robed figure, and the rumpled curls and drooping face. Then, stretching out his hand, he drew her within the room and closed the door. "Dot, why are you not asleep at this hour? You will surely make yourself ill." He crossed over to a small table and set down the heavy silver candlestick, the light flaring in his weary, but always handsome face, now looking all the darker from contrast with his snowy linen--for he was in his shirt-sleeves. He came to her once more; and as she did not speak, he took her hands from before her face and held them lovingly. "What is it, child--what is troubling you?" "Mary has told me, Jack, and I wanted to tell you that I am glad." And two great tears stole from her long lashes and ran down the rounded cheeks, whose bloom was paler than he had ever seen it. "And is that the face you wear, Dot, when you are joyful?" he asked gently, but with a smile. "What is it, child?" he urged, as she did not speak. "I am so happy to-night, and I cannot bear to see you in tears; it hurts me." "Ah, no, Jack," she cried, throwing her arms around his neck. "I don't want to hurt you." He held her fast, and laid his cheek against her own, as he said softly: "Is it that you are jealous of me, or of--Mary? Is it that you think I cannot love her and love you as well?" "No, no! Oh, no! It is n't that, Jack. I know you love me, and will always, as long as I live--just as I love you. I am happy to have Mary for my own sister; but I--I--" And she broke down again. "Now see here, little girl," he said, stroking the round white arm her fallen-back sleeve left bare; "don't fret in your heart about to-night, or whatever you may have done. It is never any use to worry over what is past and gone. 'T is not a maidenly act, Dot, for a girl to array herself in men's garments, and you must never do it again. But we must all admit that 't was a lucky thing you did it this night; and the help you rendered us far more than makes up for your own thoughtlessness. So you need fear no blame on account of it." "Does father know?" she asked nervously. "Not as yet; but I will tell him the whole story of your bravery, so he'll not misjudge you." She raised her face and kissed him; then after a little hesitation she asked shyly, "And the Britisher I locked in the shed,--did you release him, as you said you would?" Jack smiled down into the upturned face. "He was gone when Hugh and I got there; and the bar was wrenched off, sockets and all." "He is strong," Dorothy said, a light coming to her eyes that her brother did not see; and she laughed softly.