ell him, never interrupting or talking of himself and his
affairs, as Grandma does if any one comes to see her. "You are right,
Mrs. James," he said. "That man is a dreamer, but not a coward. He might
do strange things, but never a contemptible one."

"Oh, what a judge of character!" she breathed ecstatically. "And how
sympathetic! It's wonderful, in the busy, flattered life you must have
led for many years, how you've kept your kind heart and generous thought
for others. But it's your artistic temperament!"

The great Somerled laughed and looked embarrassed. "My enemies say that
my 'artistic temperament' has been swamped long ago by my love of
money-making and getting difficult things to turn my way. I think the
enemies are probably right; but you and this princess would dig up any
decent qualities a man might have left, no matter how deep they were
buried under rubbish."

"How do we dig them up?" I wanted to know.

"By being children--both of you--in your different ways."

Then he gave Mrs. James back the faded photograph, with a few more
compliments on the doctor's eyes and the shape of his forehead. It was
time to be starting on, but the grateful dear would not accept his offer
of help in clearing up. She sent me away with him down the road to
gather a bunch of bluebells, azure as a handful of sky, to put into our
hanging vase--my first Scotch bluebells. And as soon as we were well
away, he began asking questions about Doctor James, which showed that he
really cared. What was his first name? How old was he when he
disappeared? And how long ago was that?

"His Christian name was Richard," said I. "It was seventeen years ago
that he disappeared--or died. And he must have been twenty-nine then,
because Heppie says he was too young for Mrs. James--only a year older
than she--which would make him forty-six now."

"You mustn't give her away like that," Sir Somerled reproached me. "I
should have guessed her seven or eight years younger."

"Ah, that's the massage and the skin food and neck exercises," said I,
wisely. "She _will_ be pleased when I tell her what a success you think
they are."

"She'll be much more pleased if you don't tell her you've mentioned
them, and I strongly advise you not to. Do you happen to know whether
Doctor James had a scar on the left temple?"

"Yes," I eagerly answered. "She's told me about it. That's why he turned
the right side of his face to be photographed. But why? Did you ever