"No, there are no engagements to-night. Cousin Eunice has gone to bed with a headache and Rufe is nursing Waterloo through a spell of croup. By the way, you'll excuse me while I run back a few minutes and help give the little fellow a dose of medicine?"
"Certainly—if you'll promise not to be long," he said with a smile.
"Oh, it will take only a little while. Then, when the invalids both get settled Rufe can come down—unless you are in a special hurry to see him about some mighty political secret. In that case I can send him right now, and play the part of nurse myself."
"Please do not," he answered, speaking much more earnestly than the occasion warranted. "I came solely to see you. Tell Clayborne he is not to disturb himself on my account."
Waterloo was breathing better and had gone to sleep by the time I reached his bedside again.
"I don't believe he's going to need the stuff, after all," Rufe said, unbuttoning his collar and beginning to make preparations to be comfortable. "Eunice says her head is a little easier, so I'm going to lie down here and read the paper until I'm sleepy. Chalmers didn't want anything special with me, did he?"
"No. He said you were not to disturb yourself at all," I answered, and he looked up quickly as he deposited his collar on the dressing-table.
"So? He came to see you?"
"That's what he says. He may later swear it by the inconstant moon. She is so beautiful to-night, that you can forgive her for being inconstant." I rattled away to hide my trembling joy, brought on by the anticipation of two hours alone with him.
But Rufe's eyes were grave.