ered:

"The promontory?"

He nodded, and Violet ventured no farther, but stood for a little while
gazing at the tumbled rocks. Then, with a quick look back at the house,
she asked him to point out his father's window.

He did so, and as she noted how openly it faced the sea, her expression
relaxed and her manner lost some of its constraint. As they turned to
re-enter the house, she noticed an old man picking flowers from a vine
clambering over one end of the piazza.

"Who is that?" she asked.

"Our oldest servant, and my father's own man," was Roger's reply. "He is
picking my father's favourite flowers, a few late honeysuckles."

"How fortunate! Speak to him, Mr. Upjohn. Ask him how your father is
this evening."

"Accompany me and I will; and do not be afraid to enter into
conversation with him. He is the mildest of creatures and devoted to his
patient. He likes nothing better than to talk about him."

Violet, with a meaning look at her brother, ran up the steps at Roger's
side. As she did so, the old man turned and Violet was astonished at the
wistfulness with which he viewed her.

"What a dear old creature!" she murmured. "See how he stares this way.
You would think he knew me."

"He is glad to see a woman about the place. He has felt our
isolation--Good evening, Abram. Let this young lady have a spray of your
sweetest honeysuckle. And, Abram, before you go, how is Father to-night?
Still sitting up?"

"Yes, sir. He is very regular in his ways. Nine is his hour; not a
minute before and not a minute later. I don't have to look at the clock
when he says: 'There, Abram, I've sat up long enough.'"

"When my father retires before his time or goes to bed without a final
look at the sea, he will be a very sick man, Abram."

"That he will, Mr. Roger; that he will. But he's very feeble to-night,
very feeble. I noticed that he gave the boy fewer kisses than usual.
Perhaps he was put out because the child was brought in a half-hour
earlier than the stated time. He don't like changes; you know that,
Mr. Roger; he don't like changes. I hardly dared to tell him that the
servants were all going out in a bunch to-night."

"I'm sorry," muttered Roger. "But he'll forget it by to-morrow. I
couldn't bear to keep a single one from the concert. They'll be back
in good season and meantime we have you. Abram is worth half a dozen of
them, Miss Strange. We shall miss nothing."

"Thank you, Mr. Roger, thank you," faltered the