“Don’t let us decide on anything definite until we’ve known one another twenty-four hours,” she said, looking at him with a gravity that was almost maternal; and then she turned the horse’s head toward home. Chapter Six The Other Man That evening Burnett felt it necessary to give his friend a word of warning. “Holloway’s going to take Betty in to-night,” he said, as they descended the tower stairs together. “Who’s Holloway?” Jack asked. “You can’t expect to have her all the time, you know,” Burnett continued: “She’s really one of the biggest guns here, even if she is one of the family.” “Who’s Holloway?” “Last night the _mater_ had her all mapped out for General Jiggs, and I had an awful time getting her off his hook and on to yours, and then you drove her all this morning and walked her all the afternoon, and the old lady says she’s got to play in Holloway’s yard to-night—jus’ lil’ bit, you know.” “Who’s Holloway?” Jack demanded. “You know Horace Holloway; we were up at his place once for the night. Don’t you remember?” “I remember his place well enough; but he hadn’t got in when we came, and hadn’t got up when we left, so his features aren’t as distinctly imprinted on my memory as they might be.” “That’s so,” said Burnett, pushing aside the curtains that concealed the foot of the wee stair; “I’d forgotten. Well, you’ll meet him to-night, anyhow; he came on the five-five. Holly’s a nice fellow, only he’s so darned over-full of good advice that he keeps you feeling withersome.” Jack laughed. “Did he ever give you any advice?” he asked. “Why?” “I don’t recollect your taking it.” “I never take anything,” said Burnett; “I consider it more blessed to give than to receive—as regards good advice anyhow.” “Who will I have for dinner?” Jack asked presently, glancing around to see if there were any silver tissues or distracting curls in sight. “Well,” his friend replied, rather hesitatingly, “you must expect to balance up for last night, I reckon.” “Your cousin, I suppose!” Burnett nodded. “She wanted you,” he said. “She’s taken a fancy to you; and she can afford to marry for love,” he added. “I’m thankful that I can, too,” the other answered fervently. His friend laughed at the fervor. “You make me think of her teacher,” he said. “She sings, and when she was sixteen she meant to outrank Patti; she was lots homelier then.” “Oh, I say!” Jack cried. “I can believe ’most anything, but—” Burnett laughed and then sobered. “She was,” he said solemnly; “she really and truly was. And her mother said to her teacher,—there in Dresden: ‘She will be the greatest soprano, won’t she?’ And he said: ‘Madame, she has only that one chance—to be _the_ greatest.’” Jack laughed. “But why ‘Lorne’?” he asked suddenly. “Why not ‘Burnett,’ since she’s your uncle’s child?”