n always want the men they care
for to be good and can't help trying to make them so."

"So they do, and we ought to be a set of angels, but I've a strong
conviction that, if we were, the dear souls wouldn't like us half as
well. Would they now?" asked Charlie with an insinuating smile.

"Perhaps not, but that is dodging the point. Will you go?" persisted
Rose unwisely.

"No, I will not."

That was sufficiently decided and an uncomfortable pause followed,
during which Rose tied a knot unnecessarily tight and Charlie went on
exploring the drawer with more energy than interest.

"Why, here's an old thing I gave you ages ago!" he suddenly exclaimed in
a pleased tone, holding up a little agate heart on a faded blue ribbon.
"Will you let me take away the heart of stone and give you a heart of
flesh?" he asked, half in earnest, half in jest, touched by the little
trinket and the recollections it awakened.

"No, I will not," answered Rose bluntly, much displeased by the
irreverent and audacious question.

Charlie looked rather abashed for a moment, but his natural
lightheartedness made it easy for him to get the better of his own
brief fits of waywardness and put others in good humor with him and
themselves.

"Now we are even let's drop the subject and start afresh," he said with
irresistible affability as he coolly put the little heart in his pocket
and prepared to shut the drawer. But something caught his eye, and
exclaiming, "What's this? What's this?" he snatched up a photograph
which lay half under a pile of letters with foreign postmarks.

"Oh! I forgot that was there," said Rose hastily.

"Who is the man?" demanded Charlie, eyeing the good-looking countenance
before him with a frown.

"That is the Honorable Gilbert Murray, who went up the Nile with us and
shot crocodiles and other small game, being a mighty hunter, as I told
you in my letters," answered Rose gaily, though ill pleased at the
little discovery just then, for this had been one of the narrow escapes
her uncle spoke of.

"And they haven't eaten him yet, I infer from the pile of letters?" said
Charlie jealously.

"I hope not. His sister did not mention it when she wrote last."

"Ah! Then she is your correspondent? Sisters are dangerous things
sometimes." And Charlie eyed the packet suspiciously.

"In this case, a very convenient thing, for she tells me all about her
brother's wedding, as no one else would take the trouble to do."

"Oh! Wel