a thing to you, and you must heed my words and be forewarned and forearmed
from now on. Mustn’t he, Betty?"

At this the sister laughed, nodding quite as gayly as if it were a
laughing matter, instead of the opening move in a possibly
serious—tremendously serious—game of life.

"It’s awful to have to subscribe to," she said, with dancing eyes; "but
I’m afraid it’s true. I’m really quite a reprobate, and I admit it
frankly. And everyone is so good to me that I never get a chance to
reform. And so—and so—"

"But then, I suppose I ought to warn her about you, too," said Burnett,
turning suddenly toward his friend. "It isn’t fair to show her up and not
show you up, you know. And really, Betty, he’s almost as bad as you are
yourself. I may tell you in confidence—in strict confidence (for it’s only
been in a few newspapers)—that he hasn’t got his breach-of-promise suit
all compromised yet. Ask him to deny it, if he can!"

The sister looked suddenly startled and curious and Jack felt himself to
be blushing desperately.

"I don’t look as if he was lying, do I?" he asked smiling; "be honest now,
for you can see that Burnett and I both are."

"No, you don’t," she said. "You look as if it was a very true bill."

"It is," he said; "and it’s going to be an awfully big one, too, I’m
afraid."