ere worthless. Yet as
she sat there she said his name to herself, "Bertie," as she had heard
his sister call him. And she knew well that it was pleasant to her to be
thrilled by Bertie's eyes and lips, pleasant to feel Bertie's soft palms
and slim strong fingers pressing those hands of hers, on which she had
just been trying experiments with a new wash. Lydia looked thoughtfully
into her looking-glass and took her reflection into her confidence.
"Ain't you a silly?" she said to the phantom which fingered its long
curl and silently moved its lips. "Oh, you are!" said the girl, "and
there's no denying it." She shook her head, and her _vis-a-vis_ shook
its head in the dim dusk, as much as to say, "No more a fool than you
are yourself, Lydia."--"Nobody could be," said Lydia moodily.

She did not deem it prudent to keep her light burning very late, and she
had a long vigil before the signal came, the three soft taps at her
window. She was prepared for it. Every sound had grown painfully
distinct to her anxious ears, and she had been almost certain that she
knew Lisle's hurried yet stealthy step as he turned into the yard. She
crept to the door and opened it, her practised hand recognizing the
fastenings in the dark. The light from the street-lamp just outside fell
on Bertie's white face. "What luck?" she asked in a whisper.

"Curse the luck!" he answered: "everything went against me from first to
last."

"I told you so," she whispered, closing the door. "Didn't I say that?"

"Don't! there's a good girl," said Bertie softly, somewhere in the
shadows.

Lydia was silent, and shot the bolts very skilfully. But the key made a
little grating noise as she turned it, and the two stood for a moment
holding their breath.

"All right," said Lisle after a pause.

"It's late," said Lydia. He could not deny it. "You must take your boots
off before you go up," she continued. "And do be careful."

He obeyed. "Good-night," he whispered. "You'll see that girl calls me
in good time to-morrow? I feel as if I should sleep for a century or
so." He yawned wearily: "I wish I could."

"_I_ ain't to be sleepy, I suppose: why should I be?" she answered, but
added hurriedly, "No, no, you shall be called all right."

"You good girl!" whispered Lisle, and he went noiselessly away. A dim
gaslight burned halfway up the stairs and guided him to his room. He had
only to softly open and close his door, and all was well. Judith had not
been awakene