“My dear Miss Holly,” he expostulated, “he doesn’t give me a chance. I am as dirt under his feet. I think I might like him if he’d give me chance. He’s as handsome a youngster as I’ve ever seen, and I fancy I can trace a strong resemblance between him and the portrait of your father in the parlor; the eyes are very like.” “Others have said that,” answered Holly, “but I never could see the resemblance; I wish I could.” “I assure you it’s there.” “Julian is very silly,” said Holly, warmly. “And I shall tell him so.” “Pray don’t,” begged Winthrop. “He doubtless already dislikes me quite heartily enough.” “He has no right to be rude to you.” Winthrop smiled ruefully. “But he isn’t; that’s the worst of it! He’s scrupulously polite――just as one would be polite to the butler or the man from the butcher’s! No, don’t call him to account, please; we shall get on well enough, he and I. Maybe when he discovers that I am not really trying to steal you away from him he will come off his high horse. I suppose, however, that the real reason for it all is that he resents my intrusion at Waynewood――quite in the popular manner.” He regretted the latter remark the instant he had made it, for Holly turned a distressed countenance toward him. “Oh, have we been as bad as all that?” she cried, softly. “I’m so sorry! But really and really you mustn’t think that we don’t like you to be at Waynewood! You won’t, will you? Please don’t! Why, I――I have been so happy since you came!” “Bless you,” answered Winthrop, lightly, “I really meant nothing. And if you are willing to put up with me, why, the others don’t matter at all. But I’m awfully glad to know that you haven’t found me a bother, Miss Holly.” “How could I? You’ve been so nice and――and chummy! I shan’t want you to go away,” she added, sorrowfully. “I feel just as though you were a nice, big elder brother.” “That’s just what I am,” replied Winthrop, heartily, “a big elder brother――_and_ a slave――and _always_ an admirer.” “And I shall tell Julian so,” added Holly. “I wouldn’t, really.” “But why?” “Oh, well, you’ll just make him more jealous and unhappy, my dear. Or, at least, that’s the effect it would have on me were I in his place, and I fancy lovers are much the same North and South.” “Jealousy is nasty,” said Holly, sententiously. “Many of our most human sentiments are,” responded Winthrop dryly, “but we can’t help them.” Holly was silent a moment. Then―――― “Would you mind not calling me ‘my dear’?” she asked. “Have I done that? I believe I have. I beg your pardon, Miss Holly! Really, I had no intention of being――what shall I say?――familiar.” “Oh, it isn’t that,” replied Holly earnestly, “but it makes me feel so terribly young! If you’d like to call me Holly, you may.”