us. You--you made it
rather easier for me to come back here; do you know that?"

"Why did you stay away so long?" Kirk asked.

Martin kicked a pebble into the basin of the pool, where it rebounded
with a sharp click.

"I don't know," he said, after a pause. "It was very far away from the
garden--those places down there make you forget a lot. And when the
Maestro gave up his public life and retired, word trickled down to the
tropics after a year or so that he'd died. And there's a lot more that
you wouldn't understand, and I wouldn't tell you if you could."

Another pebble spun into the pool.

"Are you going to stay, now?"

"Yes, I'm going to stay."

"I'm glad," said Kirk. They sat still for some moments, and then Kirk
had a sudden, shy inspiration.

"Do you think," he ventured, "do you think it would be nice if the
fountain could play, now?"

"Eh?" said Martin, waking from brooding thoughts.

"The fountain--it hasn't, you know, since you went. And the garden's been
asleep ever since, just like a fairy-tale."

"A fairy-tale! H'm!" said Martin, with a queer laugh. "Well, let's wake
the fountain, then."

They found the device that controlled the water, and wrenched it free.
Kirk ran back down the path to listen, breathless, at the edge of the
pool. There came first the rustle of water through long unused channels,
then the shallow splash against the empty basin. Little by little the
sound became deeper and more musical, till the still morning vibrated
faintly to the mellow leap and ripple of the fountain's jubilant voice.

"Oh!" Kirk cried suddenly. "Oh, I'm happy! Aren't you, Mr. Martin?"

Martin looked down at the eager, joyous face, so expressive in spite of
the blankness behind the eyes. His own face filled suddenly with a new
light, and he put out his hands as if he were about to catch Kirk to
him. But the moment passed; the reserve of long years, which he could
not in an instant push from him, settled again in his angular face. He
clasped his hands behind him.

"Yes," said Martin, briefly, "I'm happy."

CHAPTER XVI

ANOTHER HOME-COMING

Mrs. Sturgis stepped eagerly off the twelve-five train on to the Bedford
Station platform, and stood looking expectantly about her. A few seconds
later Ken came charging through the crowd from the other end of the
platform. They held each other for a moment at arms' length, in the
silent, absorbing welcome when words seem insufficient; then Kenelm
pick