"Oh, I'd rather not," protested Sydney, reddening. "Of course it
doesn't amount to anything; I dare say he's thought of it long ago."

"But maybe he hasn't," Neil persuaded. "Come, let me show it to him,
like a good chap."

"Well--But couldn't you let him think you did it?"

"No; I'd be up a tree if he asked me to explain it. But don't you be
afraid of Mills; he's a fine chap. Come and see me to-morrow night,
will you?"

Sydney agreed, and, arising, swung himself across the study to where his
coat and cap lay.

"By the way," he asked, "where's Paul to-night?"

"He's calling on Cowan," answered Neil.

Sydney looked as though he wanted to say something and didn't dare.
Finally he found courage.

"I should think he'd stay in his room now that you're laid up," he said.

"Oh, he does," answered Neil. "Paul's all right, only he's a
bit--careless. I guess I've humored him too much. Good-night. Don't
forget to-morrow night."

Mills called the following forenoon. Ever since Neil's accident he had