“By the Lord Harry, he’s a man, anyway!” decided Thatcher Brewster.

Meanwhile, the subject of his musings began to feel like a man once more, instead of like a lath.  Having wrought havoc among the edibles, he rose with a sigh.

“If I could have one hour’s sleep,” he said mournfully, “I’d be fit as a cricket.”

“You shall,” said the girl.  “Mr. Sherwen says he won’t let you out of the house until it’s dark.  And that’s fully an hour.”

“I ought to be on my way back now.”

“Back where?  To your mountains?”

“Yes.”

“You’d be recognized and attacked before you could get out of the city.  I won’t let you.”

“That wouldn’t do, for a fact.  Perhaps it would be safer to wait.  I’ve made enough trouble for one day by my blunder-headed thoughtlessness.”

“Is that what you call rescuing the flag?”

“Oh, rescuing!” he said slightingly.  “What difference does it make what vermin like that mob do?  Just for a whim, to endanger all of you.”

She stared at him in amaze and suspicion.  But he was quite honest.

“My whim,” she reminded him.

“Yes; I suppose it was,” he admitted thoughtfully.  “When I saw you crying, I lost my head, and acted like a child.”

“Then it was all my fault?”

“Oh, I don’t say that.  Certainly not.  I’m master of my own actions.  If I hadn’t wanted—­”

“But it was my fault this much, anyway, that you wouldn’t have done it except for me.”

“Yes; it was your fault to that extent,” he said honestly.  “I hope you don’t mind my saying so.”

“Oh, beetle man, beetle man!” She leaned forward, her eyes deep-lit pools of mirth and mockery and some more occult feeling that he could not interpret.  “Would it scare you quite out of your poor, queer wits if I were to hug you?  Don’t call for help.  I’m not really going to do it.”

“I know you’re not,” said he dolefully.  “But about that row, I want to set myself right.  I’m no fool.  I know it took a certain amount of nerve to go down there.  And I was even proud of it, in a way.  And when Von Plaanden turned and gave me the salute before he went away, I liked it quite a good deal.”

“Did he do that?  I love him for it!” cried the girl.

“But my point is this, that what I did wasn’t sound common sense.  Now if Carroll had done it, it would have been all right.”

“Why for him and not for you?”

“Because those are his principles.  They’re not mine.”

“I wish you weren’t quite so contemptuous of poor Fitz.  It seems hardly fair.”

“Contemptuous of him?  I’d give half my life to be in his place after to-morrow.”

“Why?” There was a flutter in her throat as she put the question.

“Because he’s going with you, isn’t he?”

“So are you, if you will.”

“I can’t.”