All the while he knew that the abhorred Mason was grinning seraphically over his pile of manuscript, and he was beautifully conscious that on his own return to the post of duty he would be assailed by the quips and cranks which his youthful dignity dreaded. Moreover, he had no wish to discuss "Röslein" with any man, however inconceivably respectful. So when Jack, having briskly dispatched her penitent mission, turned to go, he experienced a sudden inspiration.

"Won't you let me show you how a weekly paper goes together?" he asked. "You know, I was trying to explain some of our schemes to you the other evening, and this would be a splendid chance

"Oh-oh no, thank you," said Jack. "I can't stay. I wish I could," she added honestly; "but I've simply got to take the four-twenty for Wellesley, and I have just time to catch it now. I've been in town shopping all day."

Then Evan felt another inspirationurged thereto partly by genuine desire, partly by certain benedictory gestures on the part of Mason, whom fortunately, Jack could not see: "If you'll let me walk along with you," he began-"it's really time for me to be leaving the office anyway; I have an important errand at Newton, and perhaps I could take the same train, if you don't mind."

"No indeed," said Jack; but she was secretly dismayed. She was not used to walking with young men. Suppose they should meet some of the girls at the station or on the train! However, she had no time to realize her position before Evan had flung on his coat and hat and was holding the swing-door open for her. Arrived in the cold air and loud bustle of the street, it was Evan's turn to feel at ease. On the way to the station he was so amusingly talkative and so convenient as a buffer between her small person and the huge, lumbering drays which beset their progress over cross-walks, that Jack forgot she had ever quarrelled with him, and decided that Camille was right after all-men were some

use.

But alas! he was really Camille's man” --she must not forget that. She was distressed because, after settling her into a

make plans for seeing her at Wellesley the next week. "And won't you take me to call on Miss Wilkins?" he asked, slyly conscious that the scheme would involve another evening walk under snow-flecked trees and twinkling lights, with those infinitesimal rubbers trudging along beside him again.

Jack, however, tried to damp his fond hopes by saying bluntly what any other girl, however honest, would merely have thought. "But-but you're Camille's man!" she objected.

Evan looked astonished. Then he threw back his head and laughed, in a way that was very upsetting to Jack. She was not aware that she had said anything funny. "Will you please tell me," he asked, gazing at her quizzically, "just what constitutes me 'Camille's man'? Is it that I called on Miss Henderson once, with Dicky Yorke, or merely that she was so kind as to ask me to come again? Pray divulge!"

"Well, anyway," faltered Jack, taking uncomfortable refuge in obvious facts, "anyway-you are!" This was a highly exasperating youth, she reflected. Why couldn't he see the ethics of the case? Clearly, because he wouldn't.

"Please take me to call on Miss Wilkins," he begged, ignoring her objection. "Really I do want to thank her for that splendid article she wrote for us. It was a beauty," he added. And then, seeing that Jack's attention could be diverted from the subject of discussion by judicious praise of her adored Professor, he launched into a lengthy appreciation of Miss Wilkins's wit, her happy philosophy, and her grace of style. Jack began to feel reassured about his morals.

But when the train pulled into the Newton station, he shocked her again. "Till next Monday," he said, bidding her goodby. "It's awfully good of you to say you'll chaperon me with Miss Wilkins!" Jack was not aware that she had consented. But as he swung off the platform, with a wave of his hat and an ardent look from his keen dark eyes, she felt a guilty sense of having been disloyal to Camille again.

All the next week she was in twenty minds about receiving him when he should come. "Impudent thing!" she thought.

And once, in the middle of a German examination, she suddenly smiled, then frowned, and angrily bit off the point of her stubby lead pencil. Camille lectured her roundly on the duty and privilege of "being nice to men." She herself was appeased by a polite little note from Mr. Forrest, requesting the pleasure of a glimpse of her too, on the following Monday. Inasmuch as she was to entertain a young instructor from Yale on that same evening, it would be pleasant and disciplinary for both men, if she should graciously allow Mr. Forrest,, say, ten minutes of her time. In the end, of course, Jack let herself be persuaded to "behave prettily," and she really enjoyed the experience despite Professor Wilkins's evident amusement at the sudden conversion of her little friend to the double cause of Literature and Society.

VOL. XXXVI.—51

By spring it became clear that Mr. Evan Forrest intended the work of conversion to be thorough. Certain potent stirrings within him confirmed the humorously sympathetic dictum of his confrère Mason: "Forrest, you're dead in love with that little Rose-girl. Go in and win, old man!"

Meanwhile the girls in Jack's set were greatly exercised when she was seen to come out in several fetching new gowns, and to be enjoying herself in company with a handsome youth who rowed, walked, and went to concerts with her, quite as happily, to all appearance, as if she were not so well known as the girl who hates men." Astonishment grew when it appeared that this was no long-lost brother, but a former friend of Camille Henderson's. Someone excitedly surmised that he had been a lover of Camille's, and that Jack had "got him

453