" she answered.

She was thinking about this plan when she went up-stairs to bed an hour
later. Jeff had stopped her at the foot of the stairs to say, "I'd just
like a good secure promise from you about that letter-writing. I'll
enjoy the time that's left a lot better if I know it isn't coming to a
regular jumping-off place at the end. Will you promise to write
regularly?"

She paused on the bottom step, where she was just on a level with the
straightforward dark eyes, half boy's, half man's, which met hers with
the clear look of good comradeship. There was no sentimentality in the
gaze, but undeniably strong liking and respect. She answered in Jeff's
own spirit:

"I promise. I really shouldn't know how to do without hearing about your
plans and the things that happen to you. I'm not a very good
letter-writer, but I'll try to tell you things that will interest you."

"Good! I'm no flowery expert myself, but I fancy we can write as we
talk, and that's enough for me. Good-night! Happy dreams."

"Good-night!" she responded, and went on up-stairs, turning to wave at
Jeff from the landing, as he stood in the doorway, preparing to go out
to the tents where he and Just, Doctor Forester, Frederic and Lanse were
spending these dry June nights.

Evelyn went on to the odd old bedroom under the gable, where she and
Lucy were quartered together. She found Lucy lying so still that she
thought her asleep, and so made ready for bed with speed and quiet,
remembering that Lucy had been first to come in, and imagining her tired
with the day's sports.

Evelyn herself did not go at once to sleep. There were too many pleasant
things to think of for that; and although her eyes began to close at
last, she was yet, at the end of half an hour, awake, when Lucy stirred
softly beside her and sat up in bed. After a moment the younger girl
slipped out to the floor, using such care that Evelyn thought her making
unusual and kindly effort not to disturb her bedfellow.

After a little, as Lucy did not return, Evelyn opened her eyes and
looked out into the moonlight. Lucy was dressing, so rapidly and
noiselessly that Evelyn watched her, amazed.

She was on the point of asking if the girl were ill when she observed
that Lucy was putting on the delicate dress and gay ribbons she had worn
during the evening, and was even arranging her hair. Something prompted
Evelyn to lie still, for in all the winter's association she had never
grown quite to t