e, with these country cousins--Archie, in his threadbare coat,
and Bessie, in her linen gown, with the big puffs at the top of the
sleeves.

Had she been less beautiful he might venture it, but everybody would
look at that face and turn to look again, and wonder who she was, and
question him about her.

No, he couldn't do it, and so he went away at last, deciding to take the
underground road to St. James Park, and meeting, as he was entering the
station, Jack Trevellian coming out.

"Hallo, Hallo!" was said by each to the other, while both looked a
little conscious, and Neil burst out, impulsively, "I say, Jack, what
brings you over here?"

"The same which brought you, I dare say," Jack replied. "I am going to
call upon your cousin."

"The deuce you are! I thought so," Neil answered, in a tone of voice
indicative of anything but pleasure.

"Have you any objections?" Jack asked, and Neil replied:

"No--yes. Jack. You are as good--yes, better than most of the fellows in
our set, but--" He hesitated, and Jack rejoined:

"But what? Go on."

"By Jove, I will speak out!" Neil continued, going close to his cousin.
"You are a man of the world, accustomed to all sorts of girls--girls who
laugh and flirt and let you make soft speeches to them and never think
of you again because they know you mean nothing. But Bessie is not that
kind; she is innocent and pure as a baby, and believes all you say,
and--and--by George, Jack, if you harm a hair of her head I'll beat you
into a pomace! You understand?"

"Yes, I rather think I do," Jack answered, with a smile; "and, Neil, you
are more of a man than I supposed; upon my soul you are; but never fear,
I will not flirt with Bessie, I will not make love to her, unless--I
fall in love myself, in which case I cannot promise; but don't distress
yourself. The Welsh rose is as safe with me as with you. Good-morning!"
and so saying, he walked off in the direction of Abingdon road, while
Neil rather unwillingly bought his ticket and went through the narrow
way and down the stairs to wait for the incoming train.

CHAPTER VIII.

JACK AND BESSIE.

Mrs. Buncher had made an effort to brighten up her dingy parlor since
her new lodgers took possession of it. She had washed the windows and
put up clean muslin curtains, and a white towel on the small table,
which was further ornamented by a bowl of lovely roses, which filled the
room with perfume and seemed to harmonize so perfectly