he farther end of the wood when he abruptly spoke.

"So you think it makes no difference?"

Was there a touch of pathos in the question? She could not have said.
But she answered it swiftly, with all the confidence--and
ignorance--of youth.

"Of course I do! How could it make a difference? Do you suppose--if it
had been Bertie--I should have cared?"

"Bertie!" he said. "Bertie is a law-abiding citizen. And you--pardon me
for saying so--are young."

"Oh, yes, I know," she admitted. "But I've got some sense all the same.
And--and--Nap, may I say something rather straight?"

The flicker of a smile shone and died in his eyes. "Don't mind me!" he
said. "The role of an evangelist becomes you better than some."

"Don't!" said Dot, turning very red.

"I didn't," said Nap. "I'm only being brotherly. Hit as straight as
you like."

"I was going to say," she said, taking him at his word, "that if a man is
a good sort and does his duty, I don't believe one person in a million
cares a rap about what his parents were. I don't indeed."

She spoke with great earnestness; it was quite obvious that she meant
every word. It was Dot's straightforward way to speak from her heart.

"And I'm sure Lady Carfax doesn't either," she added.

But at that Nap set his teeth. "My child, you don't chance to know Lady
Carfax as I do. Moreover, suppose the man doesn't chance to be a good
sort and loathes the very word 'duty'? It brings down the house of cards
rather fast, eh?"

An older woman might have been discouraged; experience would probably
have sadly acquiesced. But Dot possessed neither age nor experience, and
so she only lost her patience.

"Oh, but you are absurd!" she exclaimed, shaking his arm with
characteristic vigour. "How can you be so disgustingly flabby? You're
worse than old Squinny, who sends for Dad or me every other day to see
him die. He's fearfully keen on going to heaven, but that's all he ever
does to get there."

Nap broke into a brief laugh. They had reached the stile and he faced
round with extended hand. "After that--good-bye!" he said. "With your
permission we'll keep this encounter to ourselves. But you certainly are
a rousing evangelist. When you mount the padre's pulpit I'll come and sit
under it."

Dot's fingers held fast for a moment. "It'll be all right, will it?" she
asked bluntly. "I mean--you'll be sensible?"

He smiled at her in a way she did not wholly understand, yet which went
straight to h