I want him to say pretty things about her.”

Happy, happy innocence! dear simple Carrie! Should I be the one to destroy so sweet an illusion? Never!

I was intensely amused, but I replied thoughtfully:

“I should think in the first place it would depend a good deal on the man—and the girl. What are they like?”

“He’s a soldier,” said Carrie, looking timidly down at her manuscript. “That is, he has not seen any active service, but he’s simply thirsting to do some brave deed that shall show her how he loves her.”

“Yes,” I said, much interested. “A carpet knight; how old?”

“He’s about four-and-twenty, I believe; and he’s not a carpet knight. He’s very good, and clever, and noble. He’s supposed to be dining at his married sister’s, and has to entertain the men with brilliant talk.”

If I didn’t know that noble young soldier, I would never look on daylight again!

“Black hair?” I said.

“Yes,” replied Carrie promptly. “That is—I don’t know. I haven’t decided yet.”

I leaned back in my chair to recover from the shock. This, then, was what made her so loving to her brother. This was the “nice evening” we were to have. She had a secret which pricked her conscience. She was going to be nice to me for the time remaining. I might have known she didn’t visit Mrs. Loring Chatterton for nothing. A soldier to run off with my housekeeper! She had recast the play with a vengeance; I was to play the good brother’s part.

I shut my eyes.

“Well, Rol?” said Carrie. She had evidently not noticed my state. She didn’t know I knew.

“Let me think,” I replied, “let me think.”

I was not allowed to think; a tap at the door roused me, and two visitors were announced. In came Loring Chatterton, and the young brother-in-law himself. I had to admit he was a not unprepossessing young warrior.

“How do you do, Miss Butterfield?” came simultaneously from my two guests, while Carrie rose, putting aside her manuscript. I greeted them from my chair.

“I am afraid we 

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