axy, was to make sure you weren't really angry with me for
taking my own way about this."

Her hand pressed his arm. She was looking up into his face. He returned
the gaze. "I was angry, Sis," he admitted. "But, somehow, now that I see
you, I can't seem to get up steam to tell you so. I suppose you're
right--but the place is mighty lonesome without you. If it wasn't for
the Ferrys--"

"Are they over much?"

"We get them over as often as we can. I say, I've been noticing that
Jarve and Janet seem to hit it off pretty well."

"Do they? That's very nice. You like Janet yourself, don't you?"

"She's the belle of the ball, now you're away, and a mighty jolly girl to
have around. If you don't look out your old friend J.B. will slip away
from you."

Sally's head went up, her cheeks bloomed a deeper colour. "If I weren't
going to leave you in a minute I should punish you for that piece of
brotherly impertinence," said she, with spirit. "Have I ever laid hands
on anybody to keep him, for you to talk of 'slipping away'?"

"No--you're not that sort," conceded Max, with a laugh which certainly
carried a hint of brotherly admiration.

Sally walked straight over to Janet, at whose other side stood Jarvis.
"Janet," said she, "Max says you are the life of them all. I'm so
glad--and it's so kind of your mother and brother to bring you over to
make the evenings pleasant. You'll keep on being good to them all winter,
won't you?"

"Sally"--Janet caught hold of both her hands--"let me give you an
illustration of how nobly and completely I fill your place. The last time
we were over I played for them--played my best, too. I ended with my most
brilliant performance of Liszt. Two minutes afterward, when I had gone
back to the fire, I heard somebody very softly doing a one-finger
melody, picking it out note by note. I listened, and presently made out
one of your favourite 'little tunes'--'A Red, Red Rose.' I looked around
the group to see who was missing. It was not Bob. It was not Max. It was
not Alec. It was not Don. It was not--"

"Anybody. It was--a ghost," supplied Jarvis. He was looking intently at
Sally, but she was smiling back at Janet, and the colour in her face was
not less than it had been a moment before.

"My ghost, probably," she said lightly. "I'm sure if it were with you
all by that fire as often as I think about you, it would be playing
little tunes for itself, most of the time. Now I must spend my next
minute wi