The quarrel about the window had ended in our leaving it a couple of inches open, and the curtains looped back. As we lay there, the room grew brighter; so bright that every little treasure on the long, narrow shelf above each bed could be plainly seen. All the small vases and pictures and china animals--all the odds and ends we had cherished most since we were babies. When Bettina had come in that night, the first thing she did was to clear a space for her cotillion favours. The moonlight showed the brilliant huddle of fan and bonbon-basket tied with rose-colour, and, most conspicuous of all, the silver horn hung with parti-coloured ribbons. When we had lain quiet in our beds for ten minutes or so, Bettina pulled out a pillow from under her head, and propped it so that the moon couldn't shine any longer on the be-ribboned horn. And neither could Betty's eyes rest on it any more. She lay still for some time, and I was falling asleep, when I heard her bed creak. She had pulled herself half out of the covers, and was leaning over the pillow-barrier. She took the horn and the other favours, one by one, and with much gravity thrust them under the bed. A sigh of satisfaction and a settling down again. I turned and smiled into my pillow. It was so exactly the sort of thing Bettina used to do when she was in the nursery--punishing her toys when things went wrong. What a blessing, I said to myself, that I was coming to like Ranny Dallas. For, quite certainly, he was going to be my brother-in-law. CHAPTER XIII THE CLOUD AGAIN The very next day Ranny Dallas went away to shoot somewhere in the North. Bettina did not hide from me how unhappy she was. "Perhaps he will write," I said. "He isn't the sort that writes--not even when he's friends with a person." Then, with a rather miserable laugh, Betty added: "He _says_ he can't spell." So I gathered that she had asked him to try. And I gathered, too, that Hermione made light of the disagreement at the ball. She predicted that he'd be wanting to come back in a week or two, and Betty would find he had forgotten about the Battle of the Boyne. We all came tacitly to agree that was precisely what would happen--all, that is, except my mother, who knew nothing about the matter. It was a somewhat subdued Bettina who began that year; but I don't think it was in the Bettina of those days to be unhappy long. (Oh, Bettina! how is it now?) I don't know how anyone so loved and cherished could have gone on being actively unhappy. Besides, though the weeks went by and still Ranny did not reappear, there was a family reason to account for that. His father was very ill. Ranny's place was at home. Hermione often gave us news of him that came through friends they had in common. And she spoke as though any week-end that found his father better, Ranny might motor down. So we waited. Bettina was a great deal with the Helmstone girls and their friends.