itt asked of Madam Wetherill.

"I know his family well, only young people have such a way of growing up
that one loses track of them. He cannot be more than twenty. And words
between you ought not to lead to any serious matter. You should have
kept better watch of Primrose in such a crowd."

"I think I ought," he admitted frankly. "And I was hasty." He recalled
the fact that he had given the insult, and that the other had the right
to seek satisfaction. In London duels were common enough.

But by great good fortune young Wharton called on Madam Wetherill the
next morning to inquire about the mishap to Primrose and found her none
the worse except a bandaged wrist.

"Is it really true that this fire-eating young captain is--what shall I
say? A relative, since this pretty flower is your niece, is she not? And
Polly was so taken with him, but for his red coat, that when I began to
talk of him I found I had fallen into a hornets' nest. And now, Madam
Wetherill, what shall I do? Some hot and hasty words passed between us.
Can I safely show the white feather? For no doubt your captain is a fine
shot, and, truth to tell, I have some other plans for my life. Since he
is even half-brother to Miss Primrose I should not want to shoot him."

Primrose looked up with languid sweetness. She felt rather sore and
inert from the shock.

"Why, were you going to shoot him?" she asked.

"We had some words. You know I ran over you. It was very rude and
careless. And it might have been much worse, and then I should really
have been guilty."

"But you caught the ball! I saw it as I went down. I should not have
been so intent and moved a little. But I had not taken off my skates.
Brother Phil wanted me to, but I was quite determined to have my own
way. And so I went over more easily. It would be very cruel and wicked
to shoot each other on account of me."

"And silly, too," said Madam Wetherill sharply. "I shall take the case
in my own hands, and arrange matters," laughingly. "I think Captain
Nevitt was unmindful for a moment. And there is no great harm done but a
sprained wrist."

"And if you had shot Phil----"

"Well, what would you have done?"

"I should never, never want to see you or to think of you again!"

"And if he had shot me?"

"Then, I think, I should send him away and never see him again."

Allin Wharton wondered how it would be in the future if they should meet
on the field of battle. For he had just wrung a reluc