church. Mrs. Galland ought to be here any minute, but
Miss Galland will be later because of her children's class," said Minna.
"Will you wait on the veranda?"

He was saying that he would stroll in the garden when childish footsteps
were heard in the hall, and after a curly head had nestled against the
mother's skirts its owner, reminded of the importance of manners in the
world where the stork had left her, made a curtsey. Lanstron shook a
small hand which must have lately been on intimate terms with sugar or
jam.

"How do you do, flying soldier man?" chirruped Clarissa Eileen. It was
evident that she held Lanstron in high favor.

"Let me hear you say your name," said Lanstron.

Clarissa Eileen was triumphant. She had been waiting for days with the
revelation when he should make that old request. Now she enunciated it
with every vowel and consonant correctly and primly uttered; indeed, she
repeated it four or five times in proof of complete mastery.

"A pretty name. I've often wondered how you came to give it to her,"
said Lanstron to Minna.

"You do like it!" exclaimed Minna with girlish eagerness. "I gave her
the most beautiful name I could think of because"--she laid her hand
caressingly on the child's head and a madonna-like radiance stole into
her face--"because she might at least have a beautiful name when"--the
dull blaze of a recollection now burning in her eyes--"when there wasn't
much prospect of many beautiful things coming into her life; though I
know, of course, that the world thinks she ought to be called Maggie."

* * * * *

Proceeding leisurely along the main path of the first terrace, Lanstron
followed it past the rear of the house to the old tower. Long ago the
moat that surrounded the castle had been filled in. The green of rows of
grape-vines lay against the background of a mat of ivy on the ancient
stone walls, which had been cut away from the loopholes set with
window-glass. The door was open, showing a room that had been closed in
by a ceiling of boards from the walls to the circular stairway that ran
aloft from the dungeons. On the floor of flags were cheap rugs. A number
of seed and nursery catalogues were piled on a round table covered with
a brown cloth.

"Hello!" Lanstron called softly. "Hello!" he called louder and yet
louder.

Receiving no answer, he retraced his steps and seated himself on the
second terrace in a secluded spot in the shadow of the