“Very well,” he said. “You go to her with just one of these ugly insinuations, and I'll take mighty good care that you are sorry for it. I don't care to threaten. You're younger than I am, and lighter. But if you are going to behave like a bad child, you deserve a licking, and I'll give it to you.” An overflow from the parlor poured out on the porch. Le Moyne had got himself in hand somewhat. He was still angry, but the look in Joe's eyes startled him. He put a hand on the boy's shoulder. “You're wrong, old man,” he said. “You're insulting the girl you care for by the things you are thinking. And, if it's any comfort to you, I have no intention of interfering in any way. You can count me out. It's between you and her.” Joe picked his straw hat from a chair and stood turning it in his hands. “Even if you don't care for her, how do I know she isn't crazy about you?” “My word of honor, she isn't.” “She sends you notes to McKees'.” “Just to clear the air, I'll show it to you. It's no breach of confidence. It's about the hospital.” Into the breast pocket of his coat he dived and brought up a wallet. The wallet had had a name on it in gilt letters that had been carefully scraped off. But Joe did not wait to see the note. “Oh, damn the hospital!” he said--and went swiftly down the steps and into the gathering twilight of the June night. It was only when he reached the street-car, and sat huddled in a corner, that he remembered something. Only about the hospital--but Le Moyne had kept the note, treasured it! Joe was not subtle, not even clever; but he was a lover, and he knew the ways of love. The Pages' roomer was in love with Sidney whether he knew it or not. CHAPTER VII Carlotta Harrison pleaded a headache, and was excused from the operating-room and from prayers. “I'm sorry about the vacation,” Miss Gregg said kindly, “but in a day or two I can let you off. Go out now and get a little air.” The girl managed to dissemble the triumph in her eyes. “Thank you,” she said languidly, and turned away. Then: “About the vacation, I am not in a hurry. If Miss Simpson needs a few days to straighten things out, I can stay on with Dr. Wilson.” Young women on the eve of a vacation were not usually so reasonable. Miss Gregg was grateful. “She will probably need a week. Thank you. I wish more of the girls were as thoughtful, with the house full and operations all day and every day.” Outside the door of the anaesthetizing-room Miss Harrison's languor vanished. She sped along corridors and up the stairs, not waiting for the deliberate elevator. Inside of her room, she closed and bolted the door, and, standing before her mirror, gazed long at her dark eyes and bright hair. Then she proceeded briskly with her dressing.