“Ah, Baron Ned!” she returned, protestingly.

CHAPTER VI

SWEET BETTY PICKERING

When we knocked at Hamilton’s door, he answered, “Come,” and I entered, Betty closing the door behind me, leaving George and me together.  He was lying on the bed, his head and arms bandaged, and a feverish gleam shining in his eyes.  I went toward him, offering my hand.  He rose and sat on the edge of the bed, but did not accept my greeting.  I was about to speak when he lifted his hand to interrupt me, saying coldly:—­

“Well, Clyde, what do you want?”

“I want to see you and help you, if I can,” I answered, in surprise.

“Now that you have seen me, you may go,” he returned.

I did not know the cause of his ill feeling, though I knew that something had happened to turn him against me, so I stood my ground and answered:—­

“I shall go if you insist, but before I go, please tell me in what manner I have offended you.  Neither you nor I have so many friends that we can afford to lose one without an effort to save him.  The world is full of men and women, but a friend is a gift of God.  I thought you had forgiven me what I said at Sundridge.  Your time to take offence was then, not now.”

“I hold no ill will for what you said then in my hearing.  It is what you have done in so cowardly a manner since I last saw you, and at a time when I was not present to hear or to resent it.”

“But what have I done?” I asked.

“You should know.  I don’t,” he answered, sullenly.

“If neither you nor I know what I have done to offend, how are we to settle this matter?  How may I apologize or make amends?” I asked.

“You can’t,” he returned.

“Ah, but I can and I will, George Hamilton,” I answered, determined not to let him put me off without knowing wherein I had offended.  “Save what you heard at Sundridge, I have neither done nor said anything unfit to come from a friend.  If any man has reported me otherwise, he has lied.  If any woman—­well, she is mistaken.”

“No one has reported you otherwise or any wise,” he answered.

“Then tell me the cause of your grievance, and I may be able to explain or deny.  You perhaps know by this time that I always speak the truth to you, so out with it, George.  Let us settle this matter, whatever it be—­one way or the other.  Friendship should not be left to dangle between love and hatred.  It sits squarely on the heart of an honest man, or is cast out candidly and above board.  Shall I sit down?”

“Yes,” he answered, rising from the bed, drawing the rug up over his shoulders, and taking a chair not far from where I was sitting.  “I saw your cousin—­”

“When and where?” I interrupted.

“Yesterday, in this house,” he replied.

“Did she come to see you?  And did you permit her to come?” I asked, finding it my turn to be angry.