ever saw."

"Everybody laughs at me, I believe," he said, with continued
seriousness. "Even Ray Vilas thinks I'm an utter fool. Am I, do
_you_ think?"

He turned as he spoke and glanced inquiringly into her eyes. What
he saw surprised and dismayed him.

"For heaven's sake, don't cry!" he whispered hurriedly.

She bent her head, turning her face from him.

"I've been very hopeful lately," he said. "Cora has been so kind
to me since I did what she wanted me to, that I----" He gave a
deep sigh. "But if you're _that_ sorry for me, my chances with her
must be pretty desperate."

She did not alter her attitude, but with her down-bent face still
away from him, said huskily: "It isn't you I'm sorry for. You
mustn't ever give up; you must keep on trying and trying. If you
give up, I don't know what will become of her!"

A moment later she rose suddenly to her feet. "Let's finish our
dance," she said, giving him her hand. "I'm sure I won't stumble
again."

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The two girls let themselves into the house noiselessly, and,
turning out the hall-light, left for them by their mother, crept
upstairs on tiptoe; and went through the upper hall directly to
Laura's room--Cora's being nearer the sick-room. At their age it
is proper that a gayety be used three times: in anticipation, and
actually, and in after-rehearsal. The last was of course now in
order: they went to Laura's room to "talk it over." There was no
gas-fixture in this small chamber; but they found Laura's oil-lamp
burning brightly upon her writing-table.

"How queer!" said Laura with some surprise, as she closed the
door. "Mother never leaves the lamp lit for me; she's always so
afraid of lamps exploding."

"Perhaps Miss Peirce came in here to read, and forgot to turn it
out," suggested Cora, seating herself on the edge of the bed and
letting her silk wrap fall from her shoulders. "Oh, Laura, wasn't
he gorgeous. . . ."

She referred to the gallant defender of our seas, it appeared, and
while Laura undressed and got into a wrapper, Cora recounted in
detail the history of the impetuous sailor's enthrallment;--a
resume predicted three hours earlier by a gleeful whisper hissed
across the maritime shoulder as the sisters swung near each other
during a waltz: "_proposed_!"

"I've always heard they're horribly inconstant," she said,
regretfully. "But, oh, Laura, wasn't he beautiful to look at! Do
you think he's more beautiful than Val? No--don