ewhere else quickly, for I seemed to be staring rudely at
the ends of the pajamas, where her feet, as the poet chap says, "like
little mice, stole in and out--" only, in this case, they were thrust
into bedroom slippers, that looked oddly like a pair of my own--but
miles and miles smaller.

"Say, do you know," she was chortling, "the way you do get off that
Willie boy sort of talk--oh!" And she placed her hand to her side as she
laughed. "I can see how Jack thinks you're the greatest ever, Mr.
Lightnut."

She leaned forward eagerly.

"Look here, I do _wish_ you would let me call you 'Dicky.'"

"Oh, I say--will you?" exploded from my mouth.

"_Will_ I?" Her look made my blood leap. "You just watch me--_Dicky_!
Oh, say, this is great; maybe it won't take a fall out of old
Jack--always bragging that you allow only two or three to call you
that."

"I hope you will always call me Dicky," I said--and said it very softly.
By Jove, I could hardly keep from taking her hand!

"You bet I think it's awfully good of you, Lightnut--I mean, Dicky."
Then her face grew pensive. "Say, do you know, I need a friend like
you--just now, I mean--oh, worst kind."

"Do you?" I said eagerly, and hitched nearer. She proceeded:

"Haven't you had things sometimes you wanted to talk about to
somebody--well, things you couldn't just tell to your brother or
sisters--oh, nor even your room-mate? _You_ understand."

I wasn't sure that I did, for she was blushing furiously, and in her
eyes was an appeal.

By Jove, some jolly love affair, I guessed suddenly. My heart just sank
like a lump of what's-its-name, but my whole soul went out in sympathy
for her. I made up my mind, then and there, to put myself aside.

"Devilish glad--I mean delighted to have you tell me anything," I
murmured rather weakly; "but--er--I should think your mother--"

"The mater--tell her!" Her hand lifted. "She'd guy the life out of me!
Besides, she's in Europe." She paced to the window and back.

I protested indignantly: "I don't see how any mother--"

"Aw, forget it!" she broke in, and I winced again at slang from those
sweet lips. "No, sir; I'm going to unload the whole thing on _you_, or
nobody."

And, by Jove, the next thing I knew she had perched on the broad arm of
the Morris chair in which I sat, her arm resting lightly above my
shoulders.

"Here's what I want to know about," I heard her sigh. "When you're
engaged to one person and meet another you like