conceited, and if he only knew, she might really
prefer the 'tow head' to his own;" to which Bart
answered that his only excuse was that he was so
lonely he was nearly dead, and that he had only come
to save his life--the whole affair culminating in his
conducting her back to the sofa with a great flourish
and again seating himself beside her.

"I've been watching you," he began when he had
made her comfortable with a small cushion behind
her shoulders and another for her pretty feet. "You
don't act a bit like Miss Jane." As he spoke he
leaned forward and flicked an imaginary something
from her bare wrist with that air which always
characterized his early approaches to most women.

"Why?" Lucy asked, pleased at his attentions
and thanking him with a more direct look.

"Oh, I don't know. You're more jolly, I think.
I don't like girls who turn out to be solemn after you
know them a while; I was afraid you might. You
know it's a long time since I saw you."

"Why, then, sister can't be solemn, for everybody
says you and she are great friends," she replied with
a light laugh, readjusting the lace of her bodice.

"So we are; nobody about here I think as much
of as I do of your sister. She's been mighty good