her
favorite brother coming towards her with a warm sympathy in his eyes
that told her he knew her trouble, she could control herself no longer.
Up she jumped, and throwing him one wry, tearful smile as she passed,
ran out of the room.

The two elder ladies looked up and then down again at their work. They
had not yet heard of the painful episode. Frank came forward and took
his sister's chair, which had been drawn so very close to Ellen's. He
was thus able, by exercising caution, to take up the confidential
conversation.

"I suppose she has told you?" he muttered, with a wary glance towards
his aunt.

"Yes," murmured Ellen. "I'm so sorry!"

She looked nearly as distressed as Jean, and her gentle voice made her
words sound like a sweet lament for all unhappy loves.

"I call it the deuce of a shame!" said the soldier.

"Can't we do anything to persuade your father?"

He was conscious of a little glow at being adopted so instinctively as
an ally.

"I've told him what I think about it."

"Have you?"--there was a sparkle in her eyes.--"How good of you! What
did he say?"

"Told me to hold my tongue."

Her face fell.

"I must talk to Andrew about it."

Frank smiled sardonically.

"I'm afraid you won't find him very sympathetic either."

She looked down at her little pointed shoe and said nothing.

"Who isn't very sympathetic, Frank?" asked Miss Walkingshaw, suddenly
looking up.

He started guiltily.

"Oh--er--a lot of fellows one can think of," he explained.

Mrs. Dunbar looked at the two young people curiously. She knew whom she
herself did not consider sympathetic, and jumped to a conclusion. There
was nothing the junior partner would dislike more than being critically
discussed by that dear girl who was so much too nice for him, and that
engaging boy who was so infinitely better-looking. It seemed a pity they
could not enjoy their conversation without interruption.

"Would you like me to play you something, dear?" she asked.

"Oh yes, dear," said Miss Walkingshaw. "Do, please!"

They were the most affectionate of friends. Indeed, it was touching to
see how devoted Madge was to Heriot's wintry sister. Nobody else had
ever seen so much in her to love.

The music began, and, once started, showed no sign of stopping. Over the
top of her music Mrs. Dunbar's black eyes smiled a discreet approval of
the confidential pair. She only wished that Andrew, gagged and bound
beneath his brother's chair, wa