ot a little present for you, Jack."

And he took out a gold pin flaming with three great rubies.

CHAPTER XXXIII

A COUNT TO TEN

She merely stared, like a child which may either burst into tears or
laughter, no one can prophesy which.

He explained, rather worried: "You see, you are a girl, Jack, and I
remembered that you were pleased about those clothes that you wore to
the dance in Crittenden Schoolhouse, and so when I saw that pin
I--well--"

"Oh, Pierre!" said a stifled voice, "Oh, Pierre!"

"By Jove, Jack, aren't angry, are you? See, when you put it at the
throat it doesn't look half bad!"

And to try it, he pinned it on her shirt. She caught both his hands,
kissed them again and again, and then buried her face against them as
she sobbed. If the heavens had opened and a cloudburst crashed on the
roof of the house, he would have been less astounded.

"What is it?" he cried. "Damn it all--Jack--you see--I meant--"

But she tore herself away and flung herself face down on the bunk,
sobbing more bitterly than ever. He followed, awestricken--terrified.

He touched her shoulder, but she shrank away and seemed more distressed
than ever. It was not the crying of a weak woman: these were
heart-rending sounds, like the sobbing of a man who has never before
known tears.

"Jack--perhaps I've done something wrong--"

He stammered again: "I didn't dream I was hurting you--"

Then light broke upon him.

He said: "It's because you don't want to be treated like a silly girl;
eh, Jack?"

But to complete his astonishment she moaned: "N-n-no! It's b-b-because
you--you n-n-never _do_ t-treat me like a g-g-girl, P-P-Pierre!"

He groaned heartily: "Well, I'll be damned!"

And because he was thoughtful he strode away, staring at the floor. It
was then that he saw it, small and crumpled on the floor. He picked it
up--a glove of the softest leather. He carried it back to Jacqueline.

"What's this?"

"Wh-wh-what?"

"This glove I found on the floor?"

The sobs decreased at once--broke out more violently--and then she
sprang up from the bunk, face suffused, and eyes timidly seeking his
with upward glances.

"Pierre, I've acted a regular chump. Are you out with me?"

"Not a bit, old-timer. But about this glove?"

"Oh, that's one of mine."

She took it and slipped it into the bosom of her shirt--the calm blue
eye of Pierre noted.

He said: "We'll eat and forget the rest of this, if you want,