“I believe you’re hinting for compliments, Mr. Winthrop!” “Maybe; I’ve been feeling strangely frivolous of late. By the way, please accept my undying gratitude for that kick.” “You ought to be grateful,” answered Holly, with a laugh. “In another moment your head would have been on Auntie’s shoulder and――I hope you don’t snore, Mr. Winthrop?” “Heavens! Was it as bad as that? I _am_ grateful! Fancy your Aunt’s horror!” And Winthrop laughed at the thought. “Oh, Auntie would have just thought you’d fainted and had you carried home and put to bed,” said Holly. “I wonder how much you know?” mused Winthrop, turning to look down into her demure face. “About what, Mr. Winthrop?” “About my――my invalidism.” “Why, you’re a very sick man, of course,” replied Holly. “Auntie is quite worried about you at times.” Winthrop laughed. “But you’re not, I suspect. I fancy you have guessed that I am something of an impostor. Have you?” “Mh-mh,” assented Holly, smilingly. “I thought so; you’ve been so fearfully attentive with that――lovely medicine of late. Aren’t you ashamed of yourself to cause me so much affliction?” “Aren’t you ashamed to impose on two unsuspecting ladies?” “Well, seeing that I haven’t fooled you I don’t think you need to say ‘two.’ But I’m not altogether to blame, Miss Holly. It was that scheming Uncle Major of yours that beguiled me into it. He declared up and down that if I wanted to remain at Waynewood the only thing to do was to continue being an invalid. And now――well, now I don’t dare get well!” Holly laughed gayly. “If you had owned up before, you would have been spared a good many doses of medicine,” she said. “It was lots of fun to make you take it! But now I don’t reckon I’ll have the heart to any more.” “Bless you for those words!” said Winthrop, devoutly. “That infernal medicine has been the one fly in my ointment, the single crumbled leaf in my bed of roses. Hereafter I shall be perfectly happy. That is, if I survive the day. I fancy your cousin may call me out before he leaves and put a bullet into me.” “Why?” asked Holly, innocently. “Jealousy, my dear young lady. Haven’t I carried you off from under his nose?” “I don’t reckon I’d have gone if I hadn’t wanted to,” said Holly, with immense dignity. “That makes it all the worse, don’t you see? He is convinced by this time that I have designs on you and looks upon me as a hated rival. I can feel his eyes boring gimlet-holes in my back this moment.” “It will do him good,” said Holly, with a little toss of her head. “That’s what I thought,” said Winthrop. “But I doubt if he is capable of taking the same sensible view of it.” “I’m afraid you don’t like him,” said Holly, regretfully.