"I am delighted you have put a stop to that folly," said the Colonel;
"that boy dawdles over here every afternoon. I can't have Miss Bluebell's
'followers' everlastingly caterwauling in my house."

An expression of extreme astonishment came over Cecil's face.

"Bluebell doesn't care _in the least_ for Jack Vavasour," said she.

"You are evidently not in her confidence. She told me 'she should never
care for any one else'--her very words, the little goose."

Cecil seemed lost in perplexity. "And she doesn't want to go home?" asked
she in a bewildered manner.

"Crying her eyes out at this moment I dare say."

"Then for goodness sake let her go home, and stay there till she
is better," said the Colonel, irritably. "A love lorn young lady
perpetually before me I cannot and will not endure."

His daughter's brow was knitted with thought. Bluebell was evidently in
distress at going, but that it had any reference to Jack she totally
disbelieved. A latent suspicion revived, and her face grew pained and
hard. It was near dinner time, but, instead of going up to dress, she
turned into a little smoking room to ponder it out. What motive could
Bluebell have had to avow a perfectly fictitious love affair with
Vavasour, unless it was to throw dust in Mrs. Rolleston's eyes and blind
her to, perhaps, some underhand flirtation with Bertie? Cecil's
affection for her friend received a severe wrench directly she admitted