"It's such a horrid day. I rode on a car that was as crowded as a cattle shipment. My head aches. The stenographer has left to be married." "You mean you are not interested about Steve O'Valley?" Luke was not to be trifled with regarding the affair. Mary sank down into the nearest chair. "Of course I am. But what right have I to be?" she asked, almost bitterly. "It never pays to be too keenly interested." Luke laid the paper aside. "Mary," he began, his voice very basso profondo, "do you like this man?" Mary gave a little cry. "Stop--all of you--all of you!" Then she began sobbing quite as helplessly as the Gorgeous Girl could have done. Luke stood before her in helpless posture. He might have coped with her temper but his reliable tailor-made sister in tears?--Never. As she cried he experienced a new sympathy, a delightful sense of protectorship. He decided that his wife should cry occasionally--it became women. "See here," he began, shyly, "you mustn't cry about him; it won't do any good. If he has failed it isn't your fault. And if you do like him--well, you like him. He likes you," he finished with emphasis. "I know it. I've known it all along." "Oh, Luke!" Mary said, helplessly. "Luke!" He put his arm round her, clumsily. "There--now I wouldn't--please don't, it makes me feel awful bad--there's no sense worrying about it--you have a lot of good things ahead of you. There, that's the girl." At that moment Luke grew up and became far more manly and self-sufficient than all Mary's practical naggings and deeply laid plans could have achieved. He felt he must protect his sister; hitherto it had been his sister who had protected him. And he watched with pride the way she smiled up through her tears in rainbow fashion and patted his cheek, calling him a dear. She was a new kind of Mary. Both of them felt the better for the happening. But when Steve came unceremoniously to Mary's apartment that same evening, and Luke, very amusing and pathetic in his dignity, met him, innocent of the tornado of emotion sweeping about his nice boyish self--Mary almost wished the happening had not taken place. For a moment she feared that Luke would try to take command of the situation. There was something maternal in Mary's wishing Luke to be ignorant of the hard things until the ripe time should come. And Luke, quite willing to be released, since it was a trifle beyond his powers of comprehension, retired to read a magazine and resolve to be ready for action at the first sound of a sister's sob! "I had to come," Steve said, simply. "I've been like the man who never took time to walk because he had always been so busy running. I want to walk but I don't know how." Mary shook her head, really shaking it at herself. "Go away, Steve." "I shall, after a little. But I had to come now. Her aunt said she saw you and made quite a time of it. I'm sorry."