found the library untenanted. He strolled about, his hands
behind him, inspecting the pictures with critical interest. Caroline,
dressed for dinner, found him thus engaged. He turned at the sound of
her step.

"Why, hello!" he cried, with hearty enthusiasm. "All rigged up for
inspection, ain't you?"

"Inspection?"

"Oh, that's just sailor's lingo. Means you've got your Sunday uniform
on, that's all. My! my! how nice you look! But ain't black pretty old
for such a young girl?"

"I am in mourning," replied his niece, coldly.

"There! there! of course you are. Tut! tut! How could I forget it. You
see, I've been so many years feelin' as if I didn't have a brother that
I've sort of got used to his bein' gone."

"I have not." Her eyes filled as she said it. The captain was greatly
moved.

"I'm a blunderin' old fool, my dear," he said. "I beg your pardon. Do
try to forgive me, won't you? And, perhaps--perhaps I can make up your
loss to you, just a little mite. I'd like to. I'll try to, if--"

He laid a hand on her shoulder. She avoided him and, moving away, seated
herself in a chair at the opposite side of the desk. The avoidance was
so obvious as to be almost brutal. Captain Elisha looked very grave for
an instant. Then he changed the subject.

"I was lookin' at your oil paintin's," he said. "They're pretty fine,
ain't they? Any of them your work, Caroline?"

"_My_ work?" The girl's astonishment was so great that she turned to
stare at her questioner. "_My_ work?" she repeated. "Are you joking? You
can't think that I painted them."

"I didn't know but you might. That one over there, with the trees and
folks dancin'--sort of picnic scene, I judge--that looks as if you might
have done it."

"That is a Corot."

"'Tis, hey? I want to know! A--a--what did you call it?"

"A Corot. He was a famous French artist. That was father's favorite
picture."

"Sho! Well, I like it fust-rate myself. Did 'Bije--did your father know
this Mr. Corot well?"

"Know him? Certainly not. Why should you think such a thing as that?"

"Well, he bought the picture of him, and so I s'pose likely he knew him.
There was a young feller come to South Denboro three or four year
ago and offered to paint a picture of our place for fifteen dollars.
Abbie--that's Abbie Baker, she's one of our folks, you know, your third
cousin, Caroline; keepin' house for me, she is--Abbie wanted me to have
him do the job, but I wa'n't very particular about i