ip a balance for her
hidden emotions. And when Louise Cope came, she proved to be a rather
highly emphasized counterpart of her brother. Her red-gold hair was
thick and she wore it bobbed. Her skin was white but lacked the look
of delicacy which seemed to contradict constantly Cope's vivid
personality. She seemed to laugh at the world as he did. She called
Becky "quaint," but took to her at once.

"Archie has been writing to me of you," she told Becky; "he says you
came up like a bird from the south."

"Birds don't fly north in the fall----"

"Well, you were the--miracle," Cope asserted.

Louise Cope's shrewd glance studied him. "He has fallen in love with
you, Becky Bannister," was her blunt assurance, "but you needn't let it
worry you. As yet it is only an aesthetic passion. But there is no
telling what may come of it----"

"Does he fall in love--like that?" Becky demanded.

"He has never been in love," Louise declared, "not really. Except with
me."

Becky felt that the Copes were a charming pair. When she answered
Randy's letter she spoke of them.

"Louise adores her brother, and she thinks he would be a great artist
if he would take himself seriously. But neither of them seems to take
anything seriously. They always seem to be laughing at the world in a
quiet way. Louise is not pretty, but she gives an effect of beauty----
She wears a big gray cape and a black velvet tam, and I am not sure
that the color in her cheeks is real. She is different from other
people, but it doesn't seem to be a pose. It is just because she has
lived in so many places and has seen so many people and has thought for
herself. I have always let other people think for me, haven't I, Randy?

"And now that I have done with the Copes, I am going to talk about the
things that you said to me in your letter, and which are really the
important things.

"I hated to think that you dropped Mr. Dalton in the fountain. I hated
to think that you wanted to burn him at the stake--there was
something--cruel--and--dreadful in it all. I have kept thinking of
that struggle between you--in the dark---- I have hated to think that
a few years ago if you had felt as you do about him--that you might
have--killed him. But perhaps men are like that. They care more for
justice than for--mercy.

"I am trying to take your advice and tell myself the truth about Mr.
Dalton. That he isn't worth a thought of mine. Yet I think of him a