rse I do; how silly you are."

"Well," said Kate, deliberately, "I would rather be silly than cruel and
unkind."

"Why, Kate, how dreadful of you!" exclaimed Maimie; "'cruel and
unkind!'"

"Yes." said Kate; "you are not treating Ranald well. You should not
encourage him to--to--care for you when you do not mean to--to--go on
with it."

"Oh, what nonsense; Ranald is not a baby; he will not take any hurt."

"Oh, Maimie," said Kate, and her voice was low and earnest, "Ranald is
not like other men. He does not understand things. He loves you and he
will love you more every day if you let him. Why don't you let him go?"

"Let him go!" cried Maimie, "who's keeping him?" But as she spoke the
flush in her cheek and the warm light in her eye told more clearly than
words that she did not mean to let him go just then.

"You are," said Kate, "and you are making him love you."

"Why, how silly you are," cried Maimie; "of course he likes me, but--"

"No, Maimie," said Kate, with sad earnestness, "he loves you; you can
see it in the way he looks at you; in his voice when he speaks and--oh,
you shouldn't let him unless you mean to--to--go on. Send him right
away!" There were tears in Kate's dark eyes.

"Why, Katie," cried Maimie, looking at her curiously, "what difference
does it make to you? And besides, how can I send him away? I just treat
him as I do Mr. De Lacy."

"De Lacy!" cried Kate, indignantly. "De Lacy can look after himself, but
Ranald is different. He is so serious and--and so honest, and he means
just what he says, and you are so nice to him, and you look at him in
such a way!"

"Why, Kate, do you mean that I try to--" Maimie was righteously
indignant.

"You perhaps don't know," continued Kate, "but you can't help being
fascinating to men; you know you are, and Ranald believes you so,
and--and you ought to be quite straightforward with him!" Poor Kate
could no longer command her voice.

"There, now," said Maimie, caressing her friend, not unpleased with
Kate's description of her; "I'm going to be good. I will just be horrid
to both of them, and they'll go away! But, oh, dear, things are all
wrong! Poor Ranald," she said to herself, "I wonder if he will come to
the picnic on Saturday?"

Kate looked at her friend a moment and wiped away her tears.

"Indeed I hope he will not," she said, indignantly, "for I know you mean
to just lead him on. I have a mind to tell him."

"Tell him what?" said Maimie, smi