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“Does she?”

And the boy laughed an odd, short laugh that jarred on Lillian’s ear and made her say reprovingly, “You are proud, I know, but you’ll let us help you because we like to do it, and I have no brother to share my money with.”

“Would you like one, or a sister?” asked Paul, looking straight into her face with his piercing eyes.

“Yes, indeed! I long for someone to be with me and love me, as Mamma can’t.”

“Would you be willing to share everything with another person–perhaps have to give them a great many things you like and now have all to yourself?”

“I think I should. I’m selfish, I know, because everyone pets and spoils me, but if I loved a person dearly I’d give up anything to them. Indeed I would, Paul, pray believe me.”

She spoke earnestly, and leaned on his shoulder as if to enforce her words. The boy’s arm stole around the little figure in the saddle, and a beautiful bright smile broke over his face as he answered warmly, “I do believe it, dear, and it makes me happy to hear you say so. Don’t be afraid, I’m your equal, but I’ll not forget that you are my little mistress till I can change from groom to gentleman.”

He added the last sentence as he withdrew his arm, for Lillian had shrunk a little and blushed with surprise, not anger, at this first breach of respect on the part of her companion. Both were silent for a moment, Paul looking down and Lillian busy with her nosegay. She spoke first, assuming an air of satisfaction as she surveyed her work.

“That will please Mamma, I’m sure, and make her quite forget my naughty prank of yesterday. Do you know I offended her dreadfully by peeping into the gold case she wears on her neck? She was asleep and I was sitting by her. In her sleep she pulled it out and said something about a letter and Papa. I wanted to see Papa’s face, for I never did, because the big picture of him is gone from the gallery where the others are, so I peeped into the case when she let it drop and was so disappointed to find nothing but a key.”

“A key! What sort of a key?” cried Paul in an eager tone.

“Oh, a little silver one like the key of my piano, or the black cabinet. She woke and was very angry to find me meddling.”

“What did it belong to?” asked Paul.

“Her treasure box, she said, but I don’t know where or what that is, and I dare not ask any more, for she forbade my speaking to her about it. Poor Mamma! I’m always troubling her in some way or other.”

With a penitent sigh, Lillian tied up her flowers and handed them to Paul to carry. As she did so, the change in his face struck her.

“How grim and old you look,” she exclaimed. “Have I said anything that troubles you?”

“No, Miss Lillian. I’m only thinking.”

“Then I wish you wouldn’t think, for you get a great wrinkle in your forehead, your eyes grow almost black, and your mouth looks fierce. You are a very odd person, Paul; one minute as gay as any boy, and the next as grave and stern as a man with a deal of work to do.”

“I have got a deal of work to do, so no wonder I look old and grim.”

“What work, Paul?”

“To make my fortune and win my lady.”

When Paul spoke in that tone and wore that look, Lillian felt as if they had changed places, and he was the master and she the servant. She wondered over this in her childish mind, but proud and willful as she was, she liked it, and obeyed him with unusual meekness when he suggested that it was time to return. As he rode silently beside her, she stole covert glances at him from under her wide hat brim, and studied his unconscious face as she had never done before. His lips moved now and then but uttered no audible sound, his black brows were knit, and once his hand went to his breast as if he thought of the little sweetheart whose picture lay there.