“I must see you alone a moment, Emily, dear,” whispered the blue-eyed girl. “Can’t you come with me down to the other end of the room, and let me pretend to straighten your hair?” “With pleasure, dear,” replied Emily, but there was no alacrity in her voice; “only we must not stay too long lest Frances suspect something.” “What if she does? She would only think we are talking about her—and I doubt if that would make her particularly comfortable. It is about Jack. Perhaps, you can pardon his behavior, but for me the last link which bound us is broken, and I feel now that I can start for India as a missionary without a pang!” “My goodness, what has he done now? I’ve been afraid all along, Dorothy, that you would put off the reconciliation too long. While he confines his attentions to Frances, it is all right; but some time he will find out that there are a number of nice girls in the world, and—” “Frances has nothing to do with it,” she replied, with great dignity. “It happened this way: I was coming home about dusk yesterday—you remember how it rained, don’t you? Well, I was so miserable that I didn’t even attempt to hold up my skirts—it was a kind of a comfort to let them get thoroughly draggled. A gust of wind blew my umbrella to one side, and I saw Jack and Mr. Bonds just ahead of me. By the way, did you ever notice that—er—there is a certain likeness between those two?” “I’ve always said they looked enough alike to be brothers. Don’t you remember, dear, when you were first engaged to Jack, you wouldn’t speak to me for two weeks because I mentioned the fact?” “No, I don’t remember. Well, all of a sudden, I felt that I could forgive Jack all if I could just lay my head on his shoulder, and hear him say that he was sorry.” “Oh, Dorothy, dear, I am so glad! He told me this morning that he—” “If you will kindly allow me to proceed, without interruption, I will explain how that is now impossible. I was wondering how Mr. Bonds could be gotten rid of, so that Jack could go home with me and apologize comfortably before dinner; when he suddenly left him and ran up the Vansmith’s steps. Jack was walking slowly, and I just shut my eyes, and made a dash to catch up with him. My own voice sounded like a fog whistle, as I said: ‘W—wait a moment; I—I wish to speak to you.’ And, oh, Emily—” “You surely never mean to say that Jack wouldn’t stop when you called?” “It wasn’t Jack. It was Mr. Bonds; Jack had gone into the Vansmith house! But, oh, Emily, if he really loved me, he would have known that I was right behind him, ready to forgive and forget. I shall sail for India some time next week, and if I never return, you—” “But, Dorothy, Jack is only too anxious to make up. He says that a lover’s quarrel is worse than a Welsh rarebit for keeping a fellow awake at night. And he told me to tell you—”