He was still standing as he had stood when Jasper held his hand, looking after him; and there was a strange look on his face which aroused Stella's attention. "Well?" she said, with a smile. Frank started, and looked down at her with a smile. "Is it true," he asked, "that he is a great friend of my father's?" Stella nodded. "I suppose so, yes." "And of yours?" he said, intently. Stella hesitated. "I have known him such a short time," she said, almost apologetically. "I thought so," he said. "He is not a friend of yours--you don't like him?" "But"--said Stella. "I know it," he said, "as well as if you had told me; and I am glad of it." There was a tone of suppressed excitement in his voice--a restless, uneasy look in his eyes, which astonished Stella. "Why?" she said. "Because," he answered, "I do not like him. I"--and a shiver ran through him--"I hate him." Stella stared. "You hate him!" she exclaimed. "You have only seen him for a few minutes! Ought you to say that?" "No, I suppose not," he replied; "but I can't help it. I hate him! There is something about him that--that----" He hesitated. "Well?" "That makes me afraid. I felt while he was talking as if I was being smothered! Don't you know what I mean?" "Yes," said Stella, quickly. It was that she had felt herself sometimes, when Jasper's low, smooth voice was in her ears. But she felt that it was foolish to encourage the boy's fancy. "But that is nonsense!" she said. "He is very kind and considerate. He has sent me some beautiful flowers----" "He has?" he said, gloomily. "And this music." Frank took up the book and eyed it scornfully, and threw it on the table as if he were tempted to pitch it out of the window. "What does he do it for!" he demanded. "I don't know--only out of kindness." Frank shook his head. "I don't believe it! I--I wish he hadn't! I beg your pardon. Have I offended you?" he added, contritely. "No," said Stella, laughing. "Not a bit, you foolish boy," and she leant on her elbows and looked up at him with her dark eyes smiling. He came nearer and looked down at her. "I am glad you don't like him." "I didn't say----" "But I know it. Because I shouldn't like to hate anyone you liked," he added. "Then," said Stella, with her rare, musical laugh, "as it's very wicked to hate anyone, and I ought to help you to be good, the best thing I can do is to like Mr. Adelstone." "Heaven forbid!" he said, so earnestly, so passionately, that Stella started. "You are a wicked boy!" she said, with a smile. "I am," he said, gravely, and his lips quivered. "But if anything could make me better it would be living near you. You are not offended?" "Not a bit," laughed Stella; "but I shall be directly, so you had better go to bed. Your room is quite ready, and you look tired. Good-night," and she gave him her hand. He too bent over it, but how differently to Jasper! and he touched it reverently with his lips.