“Now you are making fun of me,” she said reproachfully, her foot beating time to the stirring tune the post band was playing across the hall. “I never was more in earnest.” The two heads were bent very close together, and the tender timbre of his voice made her heart beat quicker. “You have no idea, little girl, of the influence you unconsciously exert on those about you. Please God, I’m a better, cleaner man for having known you; only having known you----” his whisper reached her ear alone--“life will never be the same unless you are with me--always!” She stirred uneasily, frightened by the vehemence of his manner. “Surely you guessed,” he whispered, bending down so that she looked directly at him. His nearness, his comeliness, held her. “I--I--don’t know!” she slid one trembling hand in his. “I know you better than any other man. I think of you--often.” His face lightened with hope. “I’ll make you love me,” and pretending to pick up the program, he stooped and pressed his lips to her hand. “Oh, don’t,” she stammered. “Suppose Duncan should see you.” “I am willing that he should,” Barnard smiled happily. “But don’t worry, your brother is too attentive in another quarter to bother about us.” “Duncan attentive?” in sharp surprise. “To whom?” But Barnard’s eyes had wandered to the high jumping going on below them and apparently he did not hear the question. “He’s down!” he shouted as horse and rider plunged headlong to the ground, and for a time he and Janet watched the jumping in absolute silence. “How do you like your chaperon?” he asked finally. “Marjorie? Very much, indeed. Father and mother think she is splendid, and she has been just lovely to me. I don’t know how I could have gotten through this month without her.” “Good; I’m delighted to hear she’s such a success,” he exclaimed heartily. “To be candid, I was afraid the experiment wouldn’t work. Marjorie is not always easy to get along with; she just lost an awfully good job before your mother engaged her. And Marjorie’s so blessed poor, she needs every cent she can make.” “It is fine the way she helps Madame Yvonett,” said Janet with genuine enthusiasm. “Marjorie took me to see her aunt, and I think she is a darling. I met her cousin there, Captain Nichols----” “I hope you don’t think he’s a darling also?” in mock jealousy. “Don’t be absurd!” But a warm color mantled Janet’s face, and to cover her confusion she examined the program. “Oh, I see it is his battery that is to drill this afternoon....” “And here they come now,” broke in Barnard; a trumpet call drowned his words.