He half guessed her feeling for Jack O’Hara; but Jack’s devotion to Eileen had recently become so plaint to all except Eileen herself, that he did not let it trouble him. In this he was wrong, for Paddy was, before all thing, staunch, and having given her affections, she would not easily change. “I’m not getting sentimental at all,” he replied. “I know better, for I don’t want to have my head bitten off my last evening.” Paddy smiled, and was mollified. “It’s awfully silly, isn’t it?” she said. “I hate anything sentimental. I like people who call a spade a spade.” “And I wonder what you like them to call love?” he suggested. “Oh, ‘love,’ I suppose, only they needn’t look like sick sheep over it, and prefix half a dozen idiotic adjectives.” “I thought perhaps the mere word was too sentimental,” with a little smile, “and you would prefer to invent some term of your own.” “Very likely I shall, when the time comes for it. At present I have a great deal too much on my hands to have time to think of anything of the kind.” “In what way?” “Why! every way of course! There’s Daddy, and mother, and Eileen, and the aunties.” She paused a moment, but something in his eyes made her run on recklessly. “Oh! and the Sunday School, and the garden, and the hockey club, and the aunties’ cats, and Jack—!” “It’s quite a long list,” looking amused, “and O’Hara at the far end.” “He’s in good form to-night,” she said, gazing down at the group in the hall. Ted followed her eyes. “He seems to have cheered up since supper.” “He can’t bear Lawrence Blake, he never could, and they were sitting rather near together at supper.” “I fancy there’s a little rivalry,” he suggested. “Oh, I don’t know!” with an attempt at unconcern. “He never did like him at any time.” “Blake is a very clever man,” thoughtfully. “Yes—but he’s awfully conceited. I’m always trying to take him down a little.” There was a short silence, then Ted remarked very quietly: “This time to-morrow I shall be on my way home, and my holiday will be over—the very best holiday I ever had in my life. I suppose I shall not see you again until next summer, when I hope to come back!” “I guess not.” “I’m sorry Omeath is so far from London—” Paddy began to fidget, and kept her eyes fixed on the group in the hall. Ted watched here again with that keen gaze of his; and a great tenderness all unknown to himself spread over his strong face. He seemed to see instinctively, that in some way, a hard time lay ahead for this eager, impulsive girl; and that with all his love and devotion, he would have to stand aside and look on, without being able to help her. If so, he knew that whatever it proved for her, it could not be less hard for him, and his heart sank a little. He wanted very much to tell her about his love before he went home, but her very attitude told him the uselessness of it, and he did not want to vex her their last evening.