him, looking at him fixedly, without one particle of fear, with her large, earnest, innocent eyes fastened upon his—­with the calm, cool gaze, of some high-minded child rebuking a younger child-companion.  This was a proceeding which he was not prepared for.  Besides, the child-innocence of her face and of her words actually daunted him.  She seemed so fearless, because she was so innocent.  She became a greater puzzle than ever.  He had never seen much of her before, and this day’s experience of her had actually daunted him and confounded him.  And what was the worst to him of all her words was her calm and simple declaration, “I hate you!”

“Yes,” said Minnie, thoughtfully, “it must be so; and dear Kitty would have said the same, only she was so awfully prejudiced.  And I always thought he was so nice.  Yes, I think I really must be engaged to him.  But as for you,” she said, turning full upon Girasole, “I hate you!”

Girasole’s face grew white with rage and jealousy.

“Aha!” said he.  “You lof him. Aha!  An’ you were engage to him. Aha!”

“Yes, I really think so.”

“Aha!  Well, listen,” cried Girasole, in a hoarse voice—­“listen.  He—­he—­de rival—­de one you say you are engage—­he is dead!”

And with this he fastened upon Minnie his eyes that now gleamed with rage, and had an expression in them that might have made Ethel quiver with horror, but she did not, for she knew that Girasole was mistaken on that point.

As for Minnie, she was not at all impressed by his fierce looks.

“I don’t think you really know what you’re talking about,” said she; “and you’re very, very unpleasant.  At any rate, you are altogether in the wrong when you say he is dead.”

“Dead!  He is dead!  I swear it!” cried Girasole, whose manner was a little toned down by Minnie’s coolness.

“This is getting to be awfully funny, you know,” said Minnie.  “I really think we don’t know what one another is talking about.  I’m sure I don’t, and I’m sure he don’t, either; does he, Ethel darling?”

“De Inglis milor,” said Girasole.  “He is dead.”

“Well, but I don’t mean him at all,” said Minnie.

“Who—­who?” gasped Girasole.  “Who—­who—­who?”

“Why, the person I mean,” said Minnie, very placidly, “is Rufus K. Gunn.”

Girasole uttered something like a howl, and retreated.

CHAPTER XXXII.

UNDER ARREST.

Girasole retreated half-way down the stairs, and then he stopped for some time and thought.  Then he came back and motioned to Ethel.

“You must come,” he said, gruffly.

“You shall not,” said Minnie.

“No, no, darling,” said Ethel; “I had better go.  It will only get you into fresh trouble.  And I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Oh, how I hate you!” said Minnie to Girasole.  The latter said nothing.  Ethel kissed Minnie, and descended the stairs after him.