"Not while you are here, Madge." Again a species of divine instinct possessed Mr. Walkingshaw. Without permission asked or given, he took his fair cousin's hand and gently held it. At the same time a longing to be confidential invaded him. He had a really prime secret to share with her. "I am going up to London to-morrow morning!" he announced. It did not surprise her that business should take him up to town; it did that his eyes should twinkle at the prospect. She began to feel a trifle less sympathetic. "Oh," she said, "why are you going?" For a moment he hesitated. Could he venture to confide in her? The young and amorous Heriot said, "Of course! Such a divinity will be all sympathy." But the senior partner in Walkingshaw & Gilliflower emphatically retorted. "Never tell a woman what you don't want the whole town to know!" He was still old enough to obey the more prudent counselor. "I'm going to see my old friend Colonel Munro." Decidedly Mr. Walkingshaw was fast acquiring that quick adaptation to circumstances which is the hall-mark of youth. He had not thought of his old friend Charlie Munro for the last year or more, and here he was coming in most usefully just when he was wanted. Heriot recognized with a touch of awe his own unwonted fertility. "Don't tell any one!" he added, and then immediately realized that at the same time he must be losing a little of that valuable discretion which had characterized the head of Walkingshaw & Gilliflower. "My dear Heriot, this sounds suspicious." He realized now the penalties for indiscretion. "I am going to see him on particularly private business. We do not wish it to get talked about." He thought he had recovered his old manner to a nicety, but what was his surprise when his cousin shook a well-manicured finger in his face, and cried-- "What a naughty boy you are getting! I wonder whether I ought to tell on you or not?" This time he tried another of his ingenuous smiles. "_You_ wouldn't tell on me, Madge!" "Oh, indeed! Why should I care about your reputation?" Mr. Walkingshaw deliberately faced the situation. He had not meant to commit himself that evening--not, in fact, till he had enjoyed an untrammeled week in town; but he had placed his reputation in this charming lady's hands, and he realized he must obtain a receipt for it. "Don't you care about me?" he inquired tenderly. "What--what do you mean, Heriot?" she faltered. "You are everything to me," he answered, and looking into her black eyes, inwardly decided that this expressed very little more than the precise truth. * * * * * It was a very few minutes after this that he found himself seated very close to the sympathetic widow's side, with one arm encircling a considerable segment of what had been a remarkably trim waist, and the other hand toying with a collection of ruby and amethyst rings. "I do hope I shan't disappoint you, Heriot," she murmured.