was worried lest he might unwittingly have offended her. He knew (for
his French tutor had told him) how easy it is for a man to blunder
clumsily into a woman's fine reserves and sensitive modesty; it was a
great relief to have her turn swiftly toward him again and smile as she
said, "But _you_ don't know _me_!"

"Maybe not; I'm asking you to give me the chance."

"Oh! Is that why? Just to amuse you."

"You know better," said he, "for at least you know _me_."

"That was disagreeable of me," she admitted penitently. "I do know
better. Please forgive me!"

"Then you will play it?" he said eagerly. "You know I did what you
wanted. I promised to win the cup."

His first gleam of masterful daring did not displease the girl;
possibly, it obscurely gratified her. "But you must be good and win,"
she said, conceding the point in the immemorial feminine fashion which
would always march out of a surrendered keep with flags flying.

"I will be good and win," repeated Willy obediently.

There fell a little silence, during which they had glimpses of soft
green woods, of distant harvest-fields and of the shimmer of sunlit
waves. Vagrant odors of new-mown hay were wafted to them when the breeze
stirred. An oriole's note rose out of the dim forest paths, poignantly
sweet. Presently the lad spoke, not so much frightened at his own
audacity as amazed at his lack of fear. "Since you are playing my
sister, do you mind telling me your name? Did he say Buchanan?"

"No; Bruce-Hadden."

His face lighted as he exclaimed boyishly, "I _knew_ I had known you!
And I have--at least, I've seen your picture. You are Oswald Graham's
cousin Jean."

"Of course; and you--you are his Yankee friend at Eton, the one who
fought him because he said things about America!"

"And jolly well licked I was, too," said Willy gaily. "I didn't even
know how to put up my hands; he made a gorgeous mess of me. And then he
hunted me up and took it all back. Of course we were chums after that. I
was going to visit him in the holidays, but--"

"But he was drowned, trying to save a child."

"He did save her. He always did what he set out to do. And if I had only
been there--"

"I understand. He said you could swim like a duck."

"It's the only sport I'm not a muff at," said Willy dismally. "It's just
my long arms. But he, _he_ could do anything. I don't suppose I'll ever
stop missing him. He was the only boy friend I ever had."

"But you have men friends n