Borne hesitated.  “Yes” he said.  He was in for it now.

Ellen had not noticed Boyne’s absorption with Miss Rasmith on the ship, but she vaguely remembered hearing Lottie tease him about her, and she said now, “He wouldn’t be to blame for it if he couldn’t help it, but if the person was much older it would be a pity!”

“Uh, she isn’t so very much older,” said Borne, more cheerfully than he had spoken before.

“Is it somebody that you have taken a fancy to Borne?”

“I don’t know, Ellen.  That’s what makes it so kind of awful.  I can’t tell whether it’s a real fancy, or I only think it is.  Sometimes I think it is, and sometimes I think that I think so because I am afraid to believe it.  Do you under Ellen?”

“It seems to me that I do.  But you oughtn’t to let your fancy run away with you, Boyne.  What a queer boy!”

“It’s a kind of fascination, I suppose.  But whether it’s a real fancy or an unreal one, I can’t get away from it.”

“Poor boy!” said his sister.

“Perhaps it’s those books.  Sometimes I think it is, and I laugh at the whole idea; and then again it’s so strong that I can’t get away from it.  Ellen!”

“Well, Boyne?”

I could tell you who it is, if you think that would do any good—­if you think it would help me to see it in the true light, or you could help me more by knowing who it is than you can now.”

“I hope it isn’t anybody that you can’t respect, Boyne?”

“No, indeed!  It’s somebody you would never dream of.”

“Well?” Ellen was waiting for him to speak, but he could not get the words out, even to her.

“I guess I’ll tell you some other time.  Maybe I can get over it myself.”

“It would be the best way if you could.”

He rose and left her bedside, and then he came back.  “Ellen, I’ve got something that I wish you would keep for me.”

“What is it?  Of course I will.”

“Well, it’s—­something I don’t want you to let Lottie know I’ve got.  She tells that Mr. Trannel everything, and then he wants to make fun.  Do you think he’s so very witty?”

“I can’t help laughing at some things he says.”

“I suppose he is,” Boyne ruefully admitted.  “But that doesn’t make you like him any better.  Well, if you won’t tell Lottie, I’ll give it to you now.”

“I won’t tell anything that you don’t want me to, Boyne.”

“It’s nothing.  It’s just-a picture of the Queen on porcelain, that I got in The Hague.  The guide took me into the store, and I thought I ought to get something.”

“Oh, that’s very nice, Boyne.  I do like the Queen so much.  She’s so sweet!”

“Yes, isn’t she?” said Boyne, glad of Ellen’s approval.  So far, at least, he was not wrong.  “Here it is now.”

He put the miniature in Ellen’s hand.  She lifted herself on her elbow.  “Light the candle and let me see it.”