“Cicely,” she said; “those eyes of yours have a trick of seeing deeper into things than you suspect.  We have gone so far that we may as well go a little farther.  Allyn is very dear to me; but I do worry about him more than I like to tell.  He is headstrong and obstinate; worse than that; he is moody, and there is his great danger.  Under it all, he is a splendid fellow; but I am afraid he will turn sour and hard.  It grew on him fast, last year, while I was away, and the next two or three years will settle the matter, one way or the other.  Ever so much is going to depend on keeping him happy and jolly.  He hasn’t many friends left, and he needs all those he has, needs to trust them and feel they trust him and care a great deal for him, whatever he says or does.  If you want to, you can help me in this.”

There was a short silence.  Then Theodora went on,—­

“Every girl has the making of at least one boy, if she manages him in the right way.  I agree with your father in that, Cis, agree with him with all my heart.  She must forget, though, that they are boy and girl, and only remember that they are comrades.  Flirting never helps things.  But a girl has more patience than a boy, as a rule, and more tact.  Where a boy fights, she waits till the time comes for her to put in a word that tells.  Moreover, she is willing to stand by her friends through thick and thin, if she has any conscience at all, and most boys go through an age when every such loyal friend counts in holding them steady.  A girl that neither preaches nor flirts, can sometimes carry a boy through hours when his own mother would be helpless to manage him.  It’s a great gift in the hands of you girls, Cis; and it shouldn’t make you careless or conceited, but very conscientious in the way you use it.”

“I think I understand why Cousin Will looks at you just as he does sometimes,” the girl said slowly.  “But about Allyn?”

“You can do whatever you choose with him,” Theodora answered quickly.  “Allyn is very fond of you, Cis.  I know him better than you do, and I know that he cares a good deal more for you than you suspect, even if he does take queer ways of showing it.  You have it in your hands to help him over one of the worst spots in his life.”

“How?”

“By making up with him and, if he fights again, making up again.  Keep friends with him, keep him bright and interested and healthy.  I don’t mind his being cross half so much as I do his going off by himself and looking glum.  If you are willing, Cicely, you can do more to break that up than I can.”

The girl shook her head.

“I can help; but you stand first, Cousin Ted.”

“Not in this.  I’m related to him, and I am a great deal older than he is.  Those are two serious handicaps, sometimes.  He will come to me always probably in emergencies; at least, I hope he will, but it is the steady companionship that counts for more than this, the chance to lessen the friction in all manner of little things.  There I am helpless.  Allyn knows that I have my house and my writing and my husband to look out for, and he would be on his guard directly, if he saw me turn my back on them and give my time to him.  But, Cicely, this is asking a great deal of you.”