riginally suggested, his apparent infatuation for Jeannette
Wallen was mere sentiment, quixotism, proximity, and that he would
speedily recover could they only get him away awhile? Surely it was
worth the trial. His mother's health was suffering in the rigors of a
Chicago winter. They had spent three months in St. Augustine each winter
for years past, and but for Floyd should be there now.

It was arranged somehow. He was passive, submissive, indifferent. He
knew nothing of the one wild moment of Jenny's break-down. He had never
been allowed one hint of where his blessed head had been pillowed that
bitter November night. The girl had pledged her friend to absolute
secrecy. Removed on his convalescence from Wells's roof to his mother's
rooms at The Virginia, Forrest saw no more of his hostess for several
days. Then, with a three months' leave on surgeon's certificate, he was
driven, under his mother's wing, to bid her adieu, and that night they
were off for Florida.

"I'll never forgive him as long as I live," said Mrs. Wells. "He never
gave me a chance to tell what--I can't tell you, Mrs. Cranston, but you
_know_; and those two proud women have just got him between them now,
and they'll never let him out of their leading-strings again."

"You don't know him," said Mrs. Cranston. "He'll break the strings and
be back, or he isn't worth another thought of a girl like her."

But Jenny was not so certain. Never yet had she had opportunity to unsay
the cutting words with which she had met him that bitter night. Time and
again in her heart of hearts had she planned how those unsaying words
should be said, and said just as soon as ever he came, but he came
rather soon and suddenly.

They were great Christmas farers at Wellses'. With no children of their
own, the sweet holiday season would have lost its sweetest charm but
that Jenny was again with them. They rigged up a lovely Christmas-tree
for Mart's babies, and summoned in sundry little waifs from the
neighborhood, and had games and romps and laughter and merry voices.
Later in the week there was a dinner at which the Cranstons and some
fort friends appeared; there was a mistletoe bough that night and not a
little coquetry and merriment, for Wells had invited the library girls
and numerous young men to be present, and the customs of Old England
were reproduced with characteristic American exaggeration. That
mistletoe bough remained suspended from its chandelier, a reminde