"Come on," said Boots, slipping a bride-rose into Drina's curls; "I'm
ready for confidences."

"Confidences" had become an established custom with Drina and Boots; it
meant that every time they saw one another they were pledged to tell
each other everything that had occurred in their lives since their last
meeting.

So Drina, excitedly requesting to be excused, jumped up and, taking
Lansing's hand in hers, led him to a sofa in a distant corner, where
they immediately installed themselves and began an earnest and whispered
exchange of confidences, punctuated by little whirlwinds of laughter
from the child.

Eileen settled deeper among her pillows as the table was removed, and
Selwyn drew his chair forward.

"Suppose," she said, looking thoughtfully at him, "that you and I make a
vow to exchange confidences? Shall we, Captain Selwyn?"

"Good heavens," he protested; "I--confess to _you_! You'd faint dead
away, Eileen."

"Perhaps. . . . But will you?"

He gaily evaded an answer, and after a while he fancied she had
forgotten. They spoke of other things, of her convalescence, of the
engagements she had been obliged to cancel, of the stupid hours in her
room--doubly stupid, as the doctor had not permitted her to read or sew.

"And every day violets from you," she said; "it was certainly nice of
you. And--do you know that somehow--just because you have never yet
failed me--I thought perhaps--when I asked your confidence a moment
ago--"

He looked up quickly.

"_What_ is the matter with Gerald?" she asked. "Could you tell me?"

"Nothing serious is the matter, Eileen."

"Is he not ill?"

"Not very."

She lay still a moment, then with the slightest gesture: "Come here."

He seated himself near her; she laid her hand fearlessly on his arm.

"Tell me," she demanded. And, as he remained silent: "Once," she said,
"I came suddenly into the library. Austin and Gerald were there; Austin
seemed to be very angry with my brother. I heard him say something that
worried me; and I slipped out before they saw me."

Selwyn remained silent.

"Was _that_ it?"

"I--don't know what you heard."

"_Don't_ you understand me?"

"Not exactly."

"Well, then"--she crimsoned--"has Gerald m-misbehaved again?"

"What did you hear Austin say?" he demanded.

"I heard--something about dissipation. He was very angry with Gerald. It
is not the best way, I think, to become angry with either of us--either
me or Gerald--because t