Fledra flung her arms about the other.

“I keep forgettin’.  I’ll try not to be bad any more.”  Flea turned back into the room, as Ann hurried away at another call from Everett, and muttered: 

“If I loved ye less, Sister Ann, I wouldn’t have lied to ye.”

Floyd’s eyes questioned her as she passed him.

“Fluke,” said she, coming to a halt, “I told Sister Ann I was mad at you, and I wasn’t.  You won’t tell her, will ye?”

“No,” replied Flukey wonderingly, “I won’t tell her nothin’.”

Flea said no more in explanation, and sat again at the study table.  She was still bent over her book when Shellington opened the door and glanced in.  The boy’s eyes were closed as if in sleep, and Horace beckoned to Flea.  She rose languidly and walked to him.

“As your brother is sleeping, Fledra,” he murmured, “come into the library and talk to me awhile.”

There were traces of tears on Fledra’s face when Horace ushered her into the study.

“Now, little girl, sit down and tell me about your lessons.  I’ve been so busy lately that I haven’t had time to show you my interest....  You’ve been crying, Fledra!”

“Yes, I got mad, and Sister Ann talked to me.”

“Will you tell me why you became angry?” he queried.

Flea had not expected this, and had no time to think of a reason for her anger.  Deliberating a moment, she placed her head on her arm.  It would be dangerous to tell him about Brimbecomb.  If the bright-eyed man in the drawing-room had only let her go before kissing her—­if he had only remembered his love for Ann!  She knew Horace was waiting for her to speak; but her mind refused absolutely to concoct a reasonable excuse, and she could not tell him a deliberate lie, as she had to Ann.

For what seemed many minutes Horace looked at her.

“Fledra,” he said at length, “am I worthy of your confidence?”

His question brought her up with a jerk.  Would she dare tell him?  Would he be silent if he knew that Sister Ann was being perfidiously used?  She was sure he would not.

“If I tell you something,” she began, “you won’t never tell anybody?”

“Never, if you don’t want me to.”

She leaned forward and looked straight at him.

“I just lied to Sister Ann,” she said.

Horace’s face paled and he grasped the arms of his chair.  Presently he asked sharply: 

“Why did you lie to my sister, Fledra?”

“I just did, and you said you wouldn’t tell.”

“Was it because you lied to her that you cried?”

She tossed his question over in her mind.  She intended to be truthful to him, unless a falsehood were forced from her to shield Ann.

“I cried because Sister Ann was so good to me.”

“Are you going to tell me what caused you to be untruthful?” he asked persistently.

Fledra shook her head dismally.