esides, again,
Grace,"--he drew her nearer, and spoke low,--"besides, again, you are an
explorer, too; if you had lived twenty-five years ago, we should have
had great excursions together. Take it, my dear, if for no other reason,
because it is the gift of the boy who put the egg in the box!"

CHAPTER XIII.

IN THE TWILIGHT

"How strange it seems without the boys!" said Jean.

"And Uncle John!" said Margaret.

"And Hugh!" said Peggy. "I wish they hadn't gone."

"Oh, no, you don't, Peggy!" said Margaret. "It was such a great chance,
to have the day on that wonderful yacht. Just think what a good time
they are having! I only wish you could have gone too, but it is a
bachelor party, you see."

"Of course! Oh, I want them to have the fun, and it was very good of
Captain Storm to let Uncle John take them all. Yes, they will have a
glorious time; only--well, we miss them so horribly. Dear me, Margaret,
isn't it strange that you should get to know people so well in such a
short time? Why, I seem to know Gerald and Phil as well--better, in
some ways, than I know Hugh. But then, I never feel as if I understood
Hugh, he is so--he knows so much. Margaret, dear, it makes me happy all
through to have you and Hugh know each other, and be such friends."

"Indeed, it cannot make you so happy as it does me, Peggy," said
Margaret, smiling. "He is a wonderful person, that brother of yours.
Yes, he does know a most amazing amount, but he never makes one
uncomfortable with his knowledge, as some clever people do. He is like a
delightful book, that you can read when you want to, and when you don't
it stays quiet on its shelf. When I want to know about anything, and
Uncle John is somewhere else, or is busy, I just turn over a page of
Hugh, and there I have it. Oh, by the bye, Grace, what was that stanza
he was quoting to you this morning, just before he went away? Don't you
remember? we were coming through the orchard, he and I, and we met you,
and he said this. I have been trying all day to recall it."

"Keats!" said Grace, briefly.

"Yes, I know that; it was from 'La Belle Dame sans Merci,' but I cannot
get the whole stanza. Won't you repeat it? I know you have almost the
whole of Keats by heart."

Grace hesitated, and murmured something about "a time for everything,"
but finally, half-reluctantly, she repeated the stanza:

"'I met a lady in the meads,
Full beautiful, a fairy's child;
Her