rom the start, though I haven't laid
eyes upon the boy since his schooldays. He was rather a restless and
obstreperous youngster then, I'll admit. What he is now seems pleasing
enough to the eye, certainly, though of course that may not be
sufficient. A fine, mannerly young fellow he appeared to me, and I was
glad to see that he seemed willing enough to run upon his grandfather's
errands, though they took him out upon a raw night like this."

But Louis Gray, though he did not pursue the subject further, was still
smiling to himself as he obeyed a summons to dinner.

At opposite ends of the long table sat Mr. and Mrs. Robert Gray. The
head of the house looked his part: fine of face, crisp of speech,
authoritative yet kindly of manner. His wife may be described best by
saying that one had but to look upon her to know that here sat the Queen
of the little realm, the one whose gentle rule covered them all as with
the brooding wing of wise motherhood. Down the sides of the board sat
the three sons: Stephen, tall and slender, grave-faced, quiet but
observant; Louis, of a somewhat lesser height but broad of shoulder and
deep of chest, his bright face alert, every motion suggesting vigour of
body and mind; Ted--Edgar--the youngest, a slim, long-limbed lad with
eyes eager as a collie's for all that might concern him--this was the
tale of the sons of the house. There were the two daughters: Roberta,
she of the rose-coloured scarf--it was still about her shoulders,
seeming to draw all the light in the room to its vivid hue, reflecting
itself in her cheeks--Roberta, the elder daughter, dusky of hair,
adorable of face, her round white throat that of a strong and healthy
girl, her laugh a song to listen to; the other daughter, Ruth, a
fair-haired, sober-eyed creature of growing sixteen, as different as if
of other blood. One would not have said the two were sisters. There was
one more girl at the table; no, not a girl, yet she looked younger than
Roberta--a little person with a wild-rose, charming face, and the
sweetest smile of them all--Rosamond, Stephen's wife, quite incredibly
mother of two children of nursery age, at this moment already properly
asleep upstairs.

Last but far from least, loved and honoured of them all above the lot of
average man to command such tribute, was the elder brother of the master
of the house, his handsome white head and genial face drawing toward him
all eyes whenever he might choose to speak--Judge