Reginald bowed, but said nothing. He was looking at Rena, who was now talking to Tom about the mirror and wishing she could see it, and I was asked if I knew where it was. I did know, and Tom soon had it in his hands, examining it carefully, while Irene reached out for it, saying, “And this is the famous mirror in which Nannie saw Sandy’s face. Please let me take it and look in it over the well, to see how it seems.” She made a movement as if to rise, but Reginald held her back, as she meant he should. “Sit still,” he said, in the same commanding tone he had used when he bade her come away from the well. “You disturb me very much.” He looked upon her acting as real, and did not care for any such catastrophe as had happened to Nannie. “What a softie he must be,” was Irene’s mental comment, as she yielded gracefully to his command, and said, “Thank you, Mr. Travers, for caring what I do. Few people except Rena have ever cared.” “You are very fond of your cousin, I see,” Reginald said. “Fond of her!” Irene replied, speaking truthfully. “I rather think I am. How can I help it, when she is the sweetest, jolliest little girl in the world?” The word jolliest grated on Reginald’s ears. In his ignorance of girls, a jolly one savored of a fast one, for whom he could have no liking. As yet he had seen nothing approaching to fast, or jolly, in Rena, on whose face the moonlight was falling, bringing out all its beauty and making him wonder that he had not at first noticed how pretty she was. Irene, who was watching him, followed the direction of his eyes and was herself struck with the sweetness of Rena’s face. “I believe he is admiring her more than me,” she thought, with a sharp pang of jealousy lest she should find Rena a formidable rival in her path. This would never do, and with her usual swiftness of action she said: “Tom shares my opinion of Rena. See how happy he looks.” “Yes,” Reginald answered, glancing at Tom, who did look supremely happy with Rena beside him brushing some pine-needles from his sleeve; and for a moment Reginald found himself wondering how he should feel with Irene brushing his coat-sleeve.