“You think she won’t care?” Reginald asked, removing the obstinate glove. “I am sure she won’t; but hurry up. Rena is an early bird, and I should not be surprised if we found her in bed,” Tom said. To hurry Reginald was never an easy matter, and now he was worse than ever, and lagged so on the way that Tom stopped once and said: “What’s the matter, old fellow? You act as if you were going to be hung.” “I feel as if I were,” Reginald replied. “You know I never could talk to ladies, and this _buster_, as that boy called Miss Irene, takes my breath away. If it were only Rena——” “Hang Rena!” Tom said, involuntarily, and with a twinge of jealousy. “She’s a little spitfire when she tries to be. She is angry with me just now, and maybe will be sulky, but the other is all amiability and will be very gracious to you.” Something in Tom’s tone, as he said “you,” struck Reginald with sudden alarm. Did Tom know what he was trying to keep from him and what he hoped the girl would keep to herself until her mind was made up? “Tom,” he said at last, taking his arm. “How long since you saw your cousin Irene? The _buster_ I mean.” “Two years—yes, nearer three,” was Tom’s answer, and Reginald continued: “You correspond, of course?” “Never! Her royal highness does not like me. We used to fight when we were children, and I teased her unmercifully. Cut off the head of her rag baby, or was it Rena’s? Anyway I once put an angle worm on Irene’s neck and she never forgave me. We are friends, of course, but nothing more. There’s a free field for you, if you wish to go in.” “Oh, I don’t want to, or, I beg your pardon. I do not mean any disrespect to your cousin!” Reginald exclaimed, “but I am not a marrying man like you—never meant to marry—never thought of it till lately.” Here he stopped short with a feeling that he might be giving himself away, but Tom did not seem to notice, and Reginald’s spirits rose a little and he was conscious of a better feeling toward Irene, who had not told Tom, who replied, “I don’t know what that has to do with your calling upon two girls. You are not obliged to marry them because you call. Don’t be such a coward. Irene won’t hurt you, or Rena either.” “That’s so—that’s so. I am a coward where women are concerned,” Reginald said, trying his best to keep up with Tom. They were in sight of the house by this time and could see the light in the parlor, and as they drew nearer they could see the graceful figure sitting with her elbow on the table and her head upon one hand, while with the other she gently fanned herself. “That’s she. That’s Irene,” Tom said in a whisper. “Come on.”