“Oh,” said I, in a bristle of indignation, “if that’s it, there’s no more to be said. Of course, if you prefer bones to your female relations, it’s all right. There are young men who would rather make themselves agreeable than mope in corners and learn how to prod people with knives.” With which epitome of the noble science of surgery, I proceeded to straighten some refractory antimacassars with unnecessary violence. I could see Sol looking with an amused smile at the angry little blue-eyed figure in front of him. “Don’t blow me up, Nell,” he said; “I have been plucked once, you know. Besides,” looking grave, “you’ll have amusement enough when this--what is his name?--Lieutenant Hawthorne comes.” “Jack won’t go and associate with mummies and skeletons, at any rate,” I remarked. “Do you always call him Jack?” asked the student. “Of course I do, John sounds so stiff.” “Oh, it does, does it?” said my companion, doubtfully. I still had my theory about Elsie running in my head. I thought I might try and set the matter in a more cheerful light. Sol had got up, and was staring out of the open window. I went over to him and glanced up timidly into his usually good-humored face, which was now looking very dark and discontented. He was a shy man, as a rule, but I thought that with a little leading he might be brought to confess. “You’re a jealous old thing,” I remarked. The young man colored and looked down at me. “I know your secret,” said I, boldly. “What secret?” said he, coloring even more. “Never you mind. I know it. Let me tell you this,” I added, getting bolder: “that Jack and Elsie never got on very well. There is far more chance of Jack’s falling in love with me. We were always friends.” If I had stuck the knitting-needle which I held in my hand into cousin Sol, he could not have given a greater jump. “Good heavens!” he said, and I could see his dark eyes staring at me through the twilight. “Do you really think that it is your sister that I care for?” “Certainly,” said I, stoutly, with a feeling that I was nailing my colors to the mast. Never did a single word produce such an effect. Cousin Sol wheeled round with a gasp of astonishment, and sprang right out of the window. He always had curious ways of expressing his feelings, but this one struck me as being so entirely original that I was utterly bereft of any idea save that of wonder. I stood staring out into the gathering darkness. Then there appeared, looking in at me from the lawn, a very much abashed and still rather astonished face. “It’s you I care for, Nell,” said the face, and at once vanished, while I heard the noise of somebody running at the top of his speed down the avenue. He certainly was a most extraordinary young man.