been appallingly caddish and cruel. No, the best course had seemed
to be to go right on--take no notice--and then, as soon as she retired,
slip away to the club. That seemed the gentlemanly thing.

Yet now her words implied a certain consciousness that her brother might
frown upon her attire, might even visit me with reproach. I was
troubled, and her next speech was not calculated to reassure me.

"But I'll--I'll never say a word, Dicky," she said, coming out of her
laughter and panting breathlessly. "Never! And don't _you_,
Dicky--don't you ever! Understand? Mum's the word!"

I looked up distressfully to protest, but her little head was shaking
earnestly, the long, delicate hair wisps about her forehead wavering
like tiny, curling wreaths of golden smoke.

"No, sir," she emphasized soberly; "if you ever let _that_ cat out of
the bag, it'll be all up with _me_--I mean Jack will never let me come
again. You must promise me."

"But--"

"Oh, but me no 'buts'--_promise_!"

"Why, then--er--of course, if you wish it."

"That's right, because I want to come again--that is, if you _want_ me.
But if Brother Jack was on to you, Dicky, as I am, he would sooner have
me at a hotel, that's all."

"But my dear Frances--"

"I tell you I _know_, Dicky; he doesn't approve of young ladies in
pajamas." She chuckled. "Not even black ones."

She stood up, looking at herself and performing a graceful pirouette
before the long pier glass.

"Now, if they had been crimson," she proceeded, "he might have felt
different. Old Jack's great on Harvard, and so am I."

Of course. All Radcliffe girls were, I knew.

By Jove, how I wished I could show her the lovely crimson pajamas
Mastermann had sent me from China! But I would have to summon Jenkins
to find them, and besides, it would be of questionable taste to present
them to her attention.

"Great idea, this, having pajamas in your college colors," she said. I
thought so, too, as I noted admiringly the rich effect of her golden
head above the black silk. But I thought the color a devilish odd
one--somber, you know--for colors of a young girl's school.

"My! my!" she murmured, "wouldn't I just love _to live_ in pajamas--just
go about in 'em all the time, you know! Why can't we, I wonder?" Her
face flashed me a ravishing smile; and while I was blinking over her
question, she went on: "Funny how the girls even are taking to 'em--even
Sis wears 'em!" She chuckled: "Hers are gray flanne