ork."

Penelope, silent and gazing out of the window, was conscious of
Gordon's quick glance at her, and was conscious too of the appeal in
her mother's wistful brown eyes, which she felt were turned upon her.
So many years these two had passed in intimate companionship and in
loving ministration on one side and utter dependence on the other,
that spoken word was scarcely needed between them to make known the
mood of each to the other.

In immediate response she turned, with a smile that lighted up her
controlled, intellectual face, and said:

"Of course, we quite understand how occupied Felix is all the time,
but that doesn't keep us from liking to know about him. So your visit,
Mr. Gordon, is quite a godsend, and you mustn't be surprised that we
ask you so many questions about Felix and want to know all about him
and what he is doing."

Her voice was low, with rich notes in it, and her manner quite without
self-consciousness. Notwithstanding her deformity and her secluded
life, she betrayed neither shyness nor embarrassment. In both manner
and speech was the poise that is usually the result of much
association with the world.

"Yes," Gordon was assenting, "Felix has many irons in the fire, and he
is planning to have more. But he thinks of you both, and you would be
surprised to learn how much I know of you--through him." He rose and
as he moved across the room to Penelope's chair he continued: "You,
I know, Miss Brand, love the sunshine and the out-of-doors." He
hesitated a moment and then went on, pouring out his words with a sort
of abrupt eagerness:

"But I don't want to call you 'Miss Brand!' It doesn't seem as if I
were talking to you. I feel as if I had known you so long that I want
to call you 'Penelope,' as Felix does. Will you let me? You won't mind
if I do? Oh, thank you! You are very kind to me, for I realize what a
stranger I must seem to you, although I feel as if I had known you
both such a long time. Well, then, Penelope," and he smiled and nodded
at her, as he crossed the room to the front window and drew back the
curtain, "how would you like to have one end of this porch enclosed
with glass, so that you could sit out there with your wraps on, all
winter, even on days like this, and feel almost as if you were out of
doors? It wouldn't seem quite so shut in as the house, would it?"

She leaned back with a sigh and then smiled. "Yes, it would be
pleasant. But it is now some years since I quit wi