me has fallen
flat. From first to last he has never troubled to show the faintest
interest in my existence, and has avoided the governor all he knew. The
Chieftain is worth a dozen of him. He has kept the whole thing going
this last week, amused the governor, looked after Edith, been a perfect
brick to me. I'm glad we came, if it were only for the sake of making
his acquaintance, for he is the grandest man I've ever known; but your
scheme has failed, old girl."

From Margot's expression it would appear that everything on earth had
failed. Her face looked as white as the pillow against which she
rested, and her eyes were tragic in her despairing sadness. Ron
bestirred himself to comfort her, full of gratitude for so heartfelt an
interest.

"Never mind! You did your best, and it's nobody's fault that he turned
out such a Diogenes. The governor has been awfully decent since he came
up, and I don't despair of getting the time extended. He is much more
amenable, apart from Agnes, and I fancy the Chieftain puts in a good
word for me now and then--not on the score of literature, of course--but
after they have been talking together, the governor always seems to look
upon me with more--more _respect_, don't you know, and less as if I were
a hopeless failure, of whom he was more or less ashamed. That's a gain
in itself, isn't it?"

"'Um!" assented Margot vaguely. "I suppose they drive over to catch the
evening express? Did he--they--say anything about me?"

Ron started in surprise.

"My dear girl, we have talked of nothing else _but_ you, for the last
week! Pulse, temperature, sleep; sleep, temperature, pulse; every hour
the same old tale. You have given us all a rare old fright; but thank
goodness you are on the mend at last. The doctor says it is only a
matter of time."

"Did--they--send any message?"

"No! Edie said you were not to be excited. Awfully sorry to miss
saying good-bye, and that sort of thing, but hope to meet you another
day in town."

Margot shut her eyes, and the line of curling lashes looked
astonishingly black against her cheek.

"I see. Very kind! I'm--tired, Ron. I can't talk any more."

Ron rose from his seat with, it must be confessed, a sigh of relief. He
was ill at ease in the atmosphere of the sick-room, and hardly
recognised his jaunty, self-confident companion in this wan and languid
invalid. He dropped a light kiss on Margot's forehead, and hurried
downstairs, to b