Part 36

"Nothing."

"But he seems to think there is something--something to hope."

"Did he tell you so?"

"No. He sent me word."

"Oh! Words get mixed, when they're sent. He knows I'm not flirting with him."

"Does he know--forgive me--does he know that you don't love him--a little?"

"He knows I don't love him at all."

"Then I--can't understand," said Sir Lionel.

"Would you like me to love him?" I couldn't help asking.

"No," he began, and stopped. "I should like you to be happy, in your own way," he went on more slowly. "I've been at a loss, because a little while ago you said you didn't like Burden, and then you seemed to change your mind----"

"It was only seeming," I continued on my reckless course. "My mind toward him stands where it did."

"If that is so, what have you done to him, to give him hope?"

"Nothing I could help," I said.

"There's a strange misunderstanding somewhere, apparently," Sir Lionel reflected aloud.

"Oh, don't let there be one between us!" I begged, looking up at him suddenly.

He put his hand out as suddenly, and grabbed--literally grabbed--mine. I was so happy! Isn't it nice that men are so much stronger than women, and that we're meant to like them to be? It can make life so interesting.

As his fingers pressed mine, I let mine press his too, and felt we were friends. "By Jove, no, we won't," he said. And though it wasn't much to say, nothing could have pleased me better. The words and the tone seemed to match the close clasp of our hands.

"Would you be willing to trust me?" I asked.

"Of course. But in what way do you mean?"

"About Dick Burden. He doesn't think I'm flirting, and he doesn't think I care for him. Yet I want you to trust me, and not say anything to him or to his aunt. Let Dick and me fight it out between us."

He laughed again. "With all my heart, if you want to fight. But I won't have you annoyed. If he annoys you he must go. I will get rid of him."

"Dick can't annoy me if he doesn't make trouble for me with you, Sir Lionel," I said. (And that was the truth.) "Only, if you'll just trust me to manage him?"

"You're very young to undertake the management of a man."

"Dick isn't a man. He's a boy."

"And you--are a child."

"I may seem a child to you," I said, "but I'm not. I'll be so happy, and I'll thank you so much, if you'll just let things go on as they are for a little while. You'll be glad afterward if you do."

And he will, when I've gone and Ellaline has come. He will be glad he didn't give himself too much trouble on my account. But I'm not going to think now of what his opinion of me may be then. At present he has a very good, kind opinion. Even though I am a child in his eyes, I am a dear child; and though it can't last, it does make me happy to be dear to him, in any way at all--this terrible Dragon of Ellaline's.

But that isn't the end of our conversation. The real end was an anti-climax, perhaps, but I liked it. For that matter, the tail of a comet's an anti-climax.