For the first time she tried putting herself in Freckles' place. What
would it mean to have no parents, no home, no name? No name! That was
the worst of all. That was to be lost--indeed--utterly and hopelessly
lost. The Angel lifted her hands to her dazed head and reeled, as she
tried to face that proposition. She dropped on her knees beside the bed,
slipped her arm under the pillow, and leaning over Freckles, set her
lips on his forehead. He smiled faintly, but his wistful face appeared
worse for it. It hurt the Angel to the heart.

"Dear Freckles," she said, "there is a story in your eyes this morning,
tell me?"

Freckles drew a long, wavering breath.

"Angel," he begged, "be generous! Be thinking of me a little. I'm so
homesick and worn out, dear Angel, be giving me back me promise. Let me
go?"

"Why Freckles!" faltered the Angel. "You don't know what you are asking.
'Let you go!' I cannot! I love you better than anyone, Freckles. I
think you are the very finest person I ever knew. I have our lives all
planned. I want you to be educated and learn all there is to know about
singing, just as soon as you are well enough. By the time you have
completed your education I will have finished college, and then I want,"
she choked a second, "I want you to be my real knight, Freckles, and
come to me and tell me that you--like me--a little. I have been counting
on you for my sweetheart from the very first, Freckles. I can't give you
up, unless you don't like me. But you do like me--just a little--don't
you, Freckles?"

Freckles lay whiter than the coverlet, his staring eyes on the ceiling
and his breath wheezing between dry lips. The Angel awaited his answer
a second, and when none came, she dropped her crimsoning face beside him
on the pillow and whispered in his ear:

"Freckles, I--I'm trying to make love to you. Oh, can't you help me only
a little bit? It's awful hard all alone! I don't know how, when I really
mean it, but Freckles, I love you. I must have you, and now I guess--I
guess maybe I'd better kiss you next."

She lifted her shamed face and bravely laid her feverish, quivering lips
on his. Her breath, like clover-bloom, was in his nostrils, and her hair
touched his face. Then she looked into his eyes with reproach.

"Freckles," she panted, "Freckles! I didn't think it was in you to be
mean!"

"Mean, Angel! Mean to you?" gasped Freckles.

"Yes," said the Angel. "Downright mean. When I kiss you, if you ha