“So,” said I.

“What in the name o’ God will you have to do?”

Willis’s tone was not so friendly as I had known it to be; besides, I had observed that he called me Berwick rather than Jones.  His attitude chilled me.  I did not wish to talk to him about myself.  We talk about personal matters to personal friends.  I suppose, too, that I am peculiar in such things; at any rate, so great was my distaste to talking now with Willis on the subject in question that I did not succeed in hiding my feeling.

“Oh,” says he, “you needn’t say it if you don’t want to.”

“I feel,” said I, “as though I should be speaking of personal matters, perhaps too personal.”

“Well, I don’t want to force myself on anybody,” said he; then he asked, “How long are you going to stay with Dr. Khayme?”

It flashed upon me in an instant that Willis was jealous,—­not of the little distinction that had been shown me,—­but in regard to Lydia, and I felt a great desire to relieve him of any fear of my being or becoming his rival.  Yet I did not see how I could introduce a subject so delicate.  In order to gain time, I replied:  “Well, I don’t know exactly; I am subject to orders from brigade headquarters.  If no orders come, I shall stay here a day or two; if we march, I suppose I shall march with the company, unless the division is in the rear.”

“If the division marches and Dr. Khayme remains here, what will you do?” he asked.

This was increasing, I thought; to encourage him to proceed, I asked, “Why do you wish to know?”

“Because,” said he, hesitatingly, “because I think you ought to show your hand.”

“Please tell me exactly what you mean by that,” said I.

“You know very well what I mean,” he replied.

“Let us have no guesswork,” said I; “if you want to say anything, this is a good time for saying it.”

“Well, then, I will,” said he; “you know that I like Miss Lydia.”

“Well?”

“And I thought you were my friend.”

“I am your friend.”

“Then why do you get into my way?”

“If I am in your way, it is more than I know,” said I; “what would you have me to do?”

“If you are my friend, you will keep out of my way.”

“Do you mean to say that I ought not to visit the Doctor?”

“If you visit the Doctor, you ought to make it plain to him why you visit him.”

“Sergeant,” said I; “Dr. Khayme knows very well why I visit him.  I have no idea that he considers me a bidder for his daughter.”

“Well; you may be right, and then again, you may be wrong.”

“And you would have me renounce Dr. Khayme’s society in order to favour your hopes?”

“I did not say that.  You are perfectly welcome to Dr. Khayme’s company; but I do think that you ought not to let him believe that you want Miss Lydia.”

“Shall I tell him that you say that?”