hunched back and the
glistening white hair cut close behind his waxen ears.

The girl walked thoughtfully on, but when she paused to look back she
saw that he had resumed his slow walk in the opposite direction, his
stick describing odd flourishes in the air, as before.

When she reached Bolton House she was ushered into a beautiful parlor
by a prim maid in a frilled cap and apron. The maid presented to her
attention a small silver tray, and Ellen, blushing uncomfortably
because she had no card, asked for Miss Orr.

Soon the frilled maid reappeared. "I'm sorry, Miss," she said, "I
thought Miss Lydia was at home, but I can't find her anywheres
about."

She eyed Ellen's trim figure doubtfully. "If there was any message--"

"No," said Ellen. "I only came to call."

"I'm real sorry, Miss," repeated the maid. "Miss Lydia'll be sorry,
too. Who shall I say, please?"

"Miss Dix," replied Ellen. She walked past the maid, who held the
door wide for her exit. Then she paused. A surprising sight met her
eyes. Lydia Orr, hatless, flushed as if by rapid flight, was just
reaching the steps, convoying the strange old man Ellen had met on
the road a short time before.

The maid at her back gave a little cry. Ellen stood staring. So this
was the person Jim Dodge had gone to fetch from somewhere!

"But it isn't too warm for me to be walking out to take the air," she
heard, in the heavy mumble of the man's voice. "I don't like being
watched, Lydia; and I won't stand it, either. I might as well be--"

Lydia interrupted him with a sharp exclamation. She had caught sight
of Ellen Dix standing under the deep portico, the scared face of the
maid looking over her shoulder.

Ellen's face crimsoned slowly. All at once she felt unaccountably
sorry and ashamed. She wished she had not come. She felt that she
wanted nothing so much as to hurry swiftly away.

But Lydia Orr, still holding the strange old man by the arm, was
already coming up the steps.

"I'll not go in the automobile, child," he repeated, with an
obstinate flourish of his stick. "I don't like to ride so fast. I
want to see things. I want--"

He stopped short, his mouth gaping, his eyes staring at Ellen.

"That girl!" he almost shouted. "She told me--I don't want her
here.... Go away, girl, you make my head hurt!"

Lydia flashed a beseeching look at Ellen, as she led the old man
past.

"Please come in," she said; "I shall be at liberty in just a
moment.... Come, f