The young man scarcely heard the words, else he would have frowned unconsciously at the "real pretty." He was looking at her lovely, glorified face. "I thought you'd like it," he breathed. "Oh, I do." "I know another just as fine. We'll go there next." A shadow like a cloud crossed her face. "But I have so little time!" The cloud leaped to his face now and became thunderous. "Shucks! I forgot. What a nuisance! Oh, I say, you know, I don't think you ought to be doing--such work. Do you--forgive me, but do you really--have to?" "Yes, I have to." She had turned her face half away, but he thought he could see tears in her eyes. "Are you--all alone, then? Haven't you any--people?" His voice had grown very tender. "No--no one. Father died, then mother. There was no one else--to care; and no--money." "Oh, I'm so--so sorry!" He spoke awkwardly, with obvious restraint. He wanted suddenly to take her in his arms--to soothe and comfort her as one would a child. But she was not a child, and it would not do, of course. But she looked so forlorn, so appealing, so sweet, so absolutely dear-- He got abruptly to his feet. "Come, come, this will never do!" he exclaimed blithely. "Here I am--making you talk of your work and your troubles, when I took you up here with the express intention of making you forget them. Suppose we go through this little path here. There's a dandy spring of cold water farther on. And--and forgive me, please. I won't make you--talk any more." And he would not, indeed, he vowed to himself. She was no child. She was a young woman grown, and a very beautiful one, at that. He could not console her with a kiss and a caress, and a bonbon, of course. But he could give her a bit of playtime, now and then--and he would, too. He would see to it that, for the rest of her stay under his father's roof, she should not want for the companionship of some one who--who "cared." He would be her kind and thoughtful good friend. Indeed, he would! Burke Denby began the very next morning to be a friend to Miss Barnet. Accepting as irrevocable the fact that she could not be separated from her work, he made no plans that did not include Masters Paul and Percy Allen. "I'm going to take your sons for a drive this morning, if you don't mind," he said briskly to his aunt at the breakfast table. "Mind? Of course I don't, you dear boy," answered the pleased mother, fondly. "_You're_ the one that will mind--as you'll discover, I fear, when you find yourself with a couple of mischievous small boys on your hands!" "I'm not worrying," laughed the youth. "I shall take Miss Barnet along, too." "Oh--Helen? That's all right, then. You'll do nicely with her," smiled Mrs. Allen, as she rose from the table. "If you'll excuse me, I'll go and see that the boys are made ready for their treat."