istakes," she
said.

"We all do it," said Lucas.

"Oh, you don't!" She turned and gravely regarded him. "You are always
wise," she said, "never headlong."

"Which only demonstrates your ignorance and the kindness of your heart,"
said Lucas. "But go on, won't you? What has Nap been doing?"

"Oh, nothing. Nap is all right. It isn't Nap I mind." Again that doleful
droop of the lips became apparent, together with a little quiver of the
voice undeniably piteous. "It--it's Bertie," whispered Dot. "I--I--it's
very ridiculous, isn't it? I'm a wee bit afraid of Bertie, do you know?"

"St. Christopher!" said Lucas, in astonishment.

"Yes. But you won't ever tell him, will you?" she pleaded anxiously.
"If--if he knew or guessed--all my prestige would be gone. I shouldn't
be able to manage him at all. He--he is rather difficult to manage
sometimes, don't you think?"

Lucas was frowning slightly. "I guess I can manage him," he said.

"No doubt you could. I expect you always have. He respects you," said
Dot, with unwitting wistfulness.

Lucas turned his head and looked at her very steadily. "Will you tell me
something, Dot?" he said.

She nodded.

"Why are you afraid of Bertie?"

She hesitated.

"Come!" he said. "Surely you're not afraid of me too!"

The banter in his voice was touched with a tenderness that went straight
to Dot's young heart. She leaned down impetuously and held his hand.

"No," she said tremulously. "I'm not such a little idiot as that, Luke.
I'm afraid of Bertie because I've done something he wouldn't like. It's
a very little thing, Luke. It is, really. But--but it's bothered me off
and on all the winter. And now that Nap is home, I feel much worse--as
if--as if it had been really wrong. And--and"--she broke down
suddenly--"I know I ought to tell him. But--I can't."

"Tell me," said Lucas gently.

"And you will tell him for me?"

"If you wish me to do so."

"I don't like it," sobbed Dot. "It's so despicable of me. I've wanted to
tell him for ever so long. But he has been so good to me all this time,
and--and somehow I couldn't face it. We haven't even squabbled for months
now. It--it seemed such a pity to spoil everything when it really didn't
make any difference to anyone if he knew or not."

"Don't cry," interposed Lucas. "It would hurt Bertie if he knew."

"Dear Bertie!" whispered Dot. "Isn't it horrid of me to be such a coward?
I haven't done anything really wrong either. In fact at