little faint."

Without a moment's hesitation Beverly drew the girl's arm through his.

"Come along," he said, peremptorily, and without another word he
conducted the wounded soldier back to the hotel. Marjorie, too, was
silent; the pain in her wrist was very bad, and she had to bite her lips
hard to keep back the rising tears. Hortense, still covered with shame
and confusion, followed close behind. At the door of the lift Beverly
paused.

"Is your aunt at home?" he inquired.

"No," said Marjorie, unsteadily; "she and Elsie have gone to New Haven
for the football game."

"To be sure they have; I had forgotten. Your cousin told me they were
going this afternoon. Well, I think I will take you to our apartment.
My mother is used to sprains and bruises, and will know what to do for
your wrist."

Marjorie protested that she could not think of disturbing Mrs. Randolph,
but Beverly, who appeared to be accustomed to having his own way,
remained firm, and in the end his companion was forced to yield, much to
the distress and horror of Hortense, who considered that the story was
already known to more persons than Mrs. Carleton would approve.

Mrs. Randolph and her brother-in-law were having tea in the former's
pretty sitting-room, when the door was unceremoniously flung open, and
Beverly appeared on the threshold, leading in a trembling, white-faced
girl, who immediately collapsed into the nearest chair, and looked as if
she were about to faint.

"It's Miss Marjorie Graham, Mother," Beverly explained, "and she has
hurt her wrist. Her aunt is away, so I brought her in here. Oh, here's
Uncle George; what luck! This is my uncle Dr. Randolph, Miss Marjorie;
he is a surgeon, you know, and he'll fix you up in no time."

"To be sure I will if I can," said a pleasant voice, not unlike
Beverly's. "Let me see what the trouble is. Ah, this is the hand, isn't
it?" And Marjorie felt her wrist taken in firm, kind fingers. She
winced at the touch, but the doctor's next words were reassuring.

"I see; only a slight sprain, nothing serious. Have you some arnica,
Barbara, and some linen that I can use for a bandage?"

"How did it happen, dear?" Mrs. Randolph inquired sympathetically, as
Marjorie leaned back in her chair, with a sigh of intense relief, and
the doctor applied a cooling lotion to her aching wrist.

Marjorie's cheeks were crimson again, but not for a moment did she
hesitate about telling the truth. Beverly had gone off