m, but furnished with a solid comfort which soothed
her. For the first time since she had arrived in New York, she had the
sense of being miles away from the noise and bustle of the city. There
was a complete and restful silence. She was alone in a nest of books
and deep chairs, on which a large grandfather-clock looked down with
that wide-faced benevolence peculiar to its kind. So peaceful was
this eyrie, perched high up above the clamour and rattle of
civilization, that every nerve in her body seemed to relax in a
delicious content. It was like being in Peter Pan's house in the
tree-tops.

II

Jill possessed in an unusual degree that instinct for exploration
which is implanted in most of us. She was frankly inquisitive, and
could never be two minutes in a strange room without making a tour of
it and examining its books, pictures, and photographs. Almost at once
she began to prowl.

The mantelpiece was her first objective. She always made for other
people's mantelpieces, for there, more than anywhere else, is the
character of a proprietor revealed. This mantelpiece was sprinkled
with photographs, large, small, framed and unframed. In the centre of
it, standing all alone and looking curiously out of place among its
large neighbours, was a little snapshot.

It was dark by the mantelpiece. Jill took the photograph to the
window, where the fading light could fall on it. Why, she could not
have said, but the thing interested her. There was mystery about it.
It seemed in itself so insignificant to have the place of honour.

The snapshot had evidently been taken by an amateur, but it was one of
those lucky successes which happen at rare intervals to amateur
photographers to encourage them to proceed with their hobby. It showed
a small girl in a white dress cut short above slim, black legs,
standing in the porch of an old house, one hand swinging a sun-bonnet,
the other patting an Irish terrier which had planted its front paws
against her waist and was looking up into her face with that grave
melancholy characteristic of Irish terriers. The sunlight was
evidently strong, for the child's face was puckered in a twisted
though engaging grin. Jill's first thought was "What a jolly kid!" And
then, with a leaping of the heart that seemed to send something big
and choking into her throat, she saw that it was a photograph of
herself.

With a swooping bound memory raced back over the years. She could feel
the hot sun on her