So Peggy, under his masculine eye, "made her soul." "It's nothing that concerns you, Francis Ellison!" she began. "It's simply that I've learned how a man can treat a woman. And you--you that I've known since I was a child! And telling me fairy-tales of bold kidnapers and cruel husbands and all, and I never knowing that you were going to grow up and be one!" Marjorie laughed--she couldn't help it, Peggy was so severe. Francis looked at her again in some surprise, and Peggy was plainly annoyed. "I should say," said Francis with perfect calm, "that our honorable friend Mr. Logan had been confiding in you. His attitude is a little biased; however, let that pass. Just what did he say?" "Just nothing at all, except that you were a charming young man, and he wished that he were as able to face the world and its problems as you," Peggy answered spiritedly. "None of your insinuations about his honor, please. And shame on you to malign a sick man!" "Oh, is Mr. Logan sick?" asked Marjorie, forgetting other interests. She turned to Francis, forgetting their feud again, in a common and inexcusable curiosity. "Francis! Now we'll know what it really was that ailed him--the nervous spells, you know? I always _told_ you it wasn't fits!" "How do you know it isn't?" said Francis. "Peggy hasn't said." "She wouldn't be so interested if it was," said Marjorie triumphantly. "It takes an old and dear wife to stand _that_ in a man." They had no business to be deflected from Peggy and her temper by any such consideration; but it was a point which had occupied their letters for a year, off and on, and there had been bets upon it. "Let me see, I suppose those wagers stand--was it candy, or a Hun helmet?" said Francis. "Candy," said Marjorie. "But it was really the principle of the thing. Ask her." Francis turned back to Peggy, who was becoming angrier and angrier; for when you start forth to rescue any one, it is annoying, even as Logan found it, to have the rescue act as if it were nothing to her whether she was rescued or not. "Now, what really does ail him, Pegeen?" he asked affectionately. "Did you see him, or don't you know?" "Of course I saw him--am I not nursing him? And of course I know! Poor man, the journey up here nearly killed him." "How? It seemed like a nice journey to me," said Marjorie thoughtlessly. "There's no use pretending you're happy," said Peggy relentlessly. "I know you're not. It's very brave, but useless." "But has he fits?" demanded Marjorie with unmistakable intensity.