For a moment they were both quiet. Flea considered the toe of her slipper. A tear dropped to the front of her dress as Horace took her hand and led her into the library. "Fledra," he said, using the new name with loving inflection, "what are you crying for?" "I thought you was mad at me," she shuddered. "That bright-eyed duffer what I hate laughed when I said ye was a Prince. I hate his eyes, I do, and I hate him!" Shellington did not correct her mistakes in English as he had done so often of late. With shaded remonstrance in his tone, he said: "Fledra, he is going to marry my sister, and he's my friend." "He ain't good enough for Sister Ann," muttered Flea stubbornly. "She loves him, though, and that is enough to make us all treat him with respect." Turning the subject abruptly, he continued: "I'm expecting you to work very hard in school, Fledra. You will, won't you?" "Yes," replied Flea, making sure to pronounce the word carefully. Horace smiled so tenderly into her eyes that she grew frightened at the thumping of her heart and fled precipitately. CHAPTER FOURTEEN Fledra Cronk's school days lengthened slowly into weeks. She was making rapid strides in English, and Miss Shellington's patience went far toward keeping her mind concentrated upon her work. At first some of the girls at the school were inclined to smile at her endeavors; but her sad face and questioning eyes drew many of them into firm friends. Especially did she cling to Mildred Vandecar, and raised in the golden-haired daughter of the governor an idol at whose shrine she worshiped. One Saturday morning in the latter part of March, Mildred Vandecar persuaded her mother to allow her to go, accompanied by Katherine, to the Shellington home. They found Ann reading aloud to the twins, Flukey resting on the divan. Mildred was presented to him, and in the hour that followed the sick boy became her devoted subject. The three young people listened eagerly to the story, and after it was finished Ann entered into conversation with Katherine. Suddenly she heard Flukey exclaim, in answer to some question put by Mildred: "My sister and me ain't got no mother!" Miss Shellington colored and partly rose; but she had no chance to speak, for Mildred was saying: "Oh, dear! how you must miss her! Is she dead? And haven't you any father, either?" "Yep," said Flukey; "but he ain't no good. He hates us, he does, and worse than that, he's a thief!" Mildred drew back with a shocked cry. Ann was up instantly; while Fledra got to her feet with effort. She remembered how carefully Ann had instructed her never to mention Lon Cronk or any of the episodes in their early days at Ithaca; but Flukey had never been thus warned.