at eight o'clock this evening," said the
Babe, "I'll prove it to you. Perhaps I'll take you on to a theatre
afterwards--if you're good."

The Babe himself walked into the Autolycus Club a few minutes before
eight and encountered an atmosphere of restraint.

"Thought you were lost," remarked Somerville coldly.

"Called away suddenly--very important business," explained the Babe.
"Awfully much obliged to all you fellows for all you have been doing for
my sister. She's just been telling me."

"Don't mention it," said two or three.

"Awfully good of you, I'm sure," persisted the Babe. "Don't know what
she would have done without you."

A mere nothing, the Club assured him. The blushing modesty of the
Autolycus Club at hearing of their own good deeds was touching. Left to
themselves, they would have talked of quite other things. As a matter of
fact, they tried to.

"Never heard her speak so enthusiastically of anyone as she does of you,
Jack," said the Babe, turning to Jack Herring.

"Of course, you know, dear boy," explained Jack Herring, "anything I
could do for a sister of yours--"

"I know, dear boy," replied the Babe; "I always felt it."

"Say no more about it," urged Jack Herring.

"She couldn't quite make out that letter of yours this morning,"
continued the Babe, ignoring Jack's request. "She's afraid you think her
ungrateful."

"It seemed to me, on reflection," explained Jack Herring, "that on one or
two little matters she may have misunderstood me. As I wrote her, there
are days when I don't seem altogether to quite know what I'm doing."

"Rather awkward," thought the Babe.

"It is," agreed Jack Herring. "Yesterday was one of them."

"She tells me you were most kind to her," the Babe reassured him. "She
thought at first it was a little uncivil, your refusing to lend her any
money. But as I put it to her--"

"It was silly of me," interrupted Jack. "I see that now. I went round
this morning meaning to make it all right. But she was gone, and Mrs.
Postwhistle seemed to think I had better leave things as they were. I
blame myself exceedingly."

"My dear boy, don't blame yourself for anything. You acted nobly," the
Babe told him. "She's coming here to call for me this evening on purpose
to thank you."

"I'd rather not," said Jack Herring.

"Nonsense," said the Babe.

"You must excuse me," insisted Jack Herring. "I don't mean it rudely,
but really I'd rather not see her."

"B