s--no. What do you know about it?" Jeff was up on his elbow
now, staring at his uncle.

"All about it--except that."

"Charlotte tell you? I didn't think she----"

"She didn't. I guessed--and found out. You may as well tell me the
rest."

"Isn't it a shame? Poor girl's worked months on those things; just got
'em done. You ought to have seen them; they were great. I told her she
could take them as they were, but she wouldn't hear of it."

"But where were they going?"

"To Mr. Murdock, at Chrystler & Company's office. He saw something of
Charlotte's once by chance, through a niece of his who's Charlotte's
friend, and he sent word to Fiddle that she ought to cultivate that
colour sense, or whatever it was, I forget what he called it--for she
had it to an unusual degree. Charlotte has cultivated it for two years
since then, and now--oh, confound that baby! That's what you get for
trying to be a missionary. I wish we'd sent her to an orphanage right
off. What's the use?"

"You don't feel that 'sweet are the uses of adversity'? Sometimes they
are, though, son. The little second violin hasn't given in and wailed
about it; I saw no traces of tears."

"No, you're right you haven't," agreed Jeff, proudly. "She's not that
sort. She's all broken up, though, inside, and I don't blame her."

"No. Jeff, to-morrow--it's Saturday, isn't it? You must get those
drawings early in the morning, while Charlotte is busy with her Saturday
baking. We'll have a livery outfit, and you shall drive me down to
Chrystler's."

"Uncle Ray! You're a trump! It's just what I said should be done. The
work shows perfectly well what she intended, and if a chap like you
explains it----"

Captain Rayburn limped away, laughing, his hand red with the tremendous
grip his nephew had just given it. It gave him great pleasure to see the
way the boy invariably stood by his sister. It was a characteristic of
the Birch family, as a whole, which, it may be said, was worth more both
to themselves and to the world at large than the possession of almost
any other trait.

It was not until dinner was over that Captain Rayburn and his nephew
returned, begging pardon for their tardiness, and explaining that they
had taken luncheon in the city.

"Fiddle," Jeff said, with a face of preternatural gravity, "come up to
Uncle Ray's room when the dishes are done, will you?"

He vanished before his sister could ask why, and before she could see
the grin which overspr