turning in her chair rather wearily. "But
come to me again whenever you like."

Patsy nodded, and followed the housekeeper to the rose chamber--the
prettiest room old Elmhurst possessed, with broad windows opening
directly upon the finest part of the garden.

Lawyer Watson sat opposite his old friend for some moments in
thoughtful silence. "The child is impossible." he said, at last.

"You think so?" she enquired, moodily.

"Absolutely. Either of the others would make a better Lady of
Elmhurst. Yet I like the little thing, I confess. She quite won my old
heart after I had known her for five minutes. But money would ruin
her. She's a child of the people, and ought not to be raised from her
proper level. Jane, Jane--you're making a grave mistake in all this.
Why don't you do the only right thing in your power, and leave
Elmhurst to Kenneth?"

"You bore me, Silas," she answered, coldly. "The boy is the most
impossible of all."

It was the old protest and the old reply. He had hardly expected
anything different.

After a period of thought he asked;

"What is this I hear about John Merrick having returned from the
West?"

"He came yesterday. It was a great surprise to me."

"I never knew this brother, I believe."

"No; he had gone away before I became acquainted with either you or
Tom."

"What sort of a man is he?"

"Honest and simple, hard-headed and experienced."

"Is he independent?"

"I believe so; he has never mentioned his affairs to me. But he has
worked hard all his life, he says, and now means to end his days
peacefully. John is not especially refined in his manner, nor did he
have much of an education; but he seems to be a good deal of a man,
for all that. I am very glad he appeared at Elmhurst just at this
time."

"You had believed him dead?"

"Yes. He had passed out of my life completely, and I never knew what
became of him."

"He must be an eccentric person," said Mr. Watson, with a smile.

"He is." she acknowledged. "But blood is thicker than water, Silas,
and I'm glad brother John is here at last."

A little later the lawyer left her and picked his way through the
gardens until he came to Kenneth's wing and the stair that led to
his room. Here he paused a moment, finding himself surrounded by a
profound stillness, broken only by the chirping of the birds in the
shrubbery. Perhaps Kenneth was not in. He half decided to retrace
his steps, but finally mounted the stair softly and stoo