is part nobly and with
skill. When the party had admired the distinction of the hall, and the
stately sweep of its staircase, he led Ruth into a room on the left at
the same moment that Richard summoned Roberta to look at something he
had described in the room on the right. A question drew the caretaker
after Mr. Kendrick, senior, and the younger man had the moment he was
playing for.

"This fireplace, Robin--isn't it the very counter-part of the one in
your own living-room?" He asked it with his hand on the chimney-piece,
and his glowing eyes studying hers.

Roberta looked, and nodded delightedly. "It certainly is, only still
wider and higher. What a splendid one! And what a room! Oh, how could
they leave it? Imagine it furnished, and lived in."

"Imagine it! And a great fire on this hearth. It would take in an
immense log, wouldn't it?"

"Poor hearth!" She turned again to it, and her glance sobered. "So cold
now, even on a July day, after having been warmed with so many fires."

"Shall we warm it?" He took an eager step toward her. "Shall we build
our own home fires upon it?"

Startled, she stared at him, the blue of her eyes growing deep. He
smiled into them, his own gleaming with satisfaction.

"Richard! What do you--mean?"

"What I say, darling. Could you be happy here? Should you like it better
than the Kendrick house?--gloomy old place that that is!"

"But--your grandfather! We--we couldn't possibly leave him lonely!"

"Bless your kind heart, dear--we couldn't. Shall we make a home for him
here?"

"Would he be content?"

"So content that he's only waiting to know that you like it, and he'll
tell you so. The plan is this, Robin--if you approve it. Three months of
the year grandfather will stay in the old home, the hard, winter months,
and if you are willing, we'll stay with him. The rest of the year--here,
in our own home. Eh? Do you like it?"

She stood a moment, staring into the empty fireplace, her eyes shining
with a sudden hint of most unwonted tears. Then she turned to him.

"Oh, you dear!" she whispered, and was swept into his arms.

"Then you do like it?" he insisted, presently.

"Like it! Oh, I can't tell you. To have such a home as this, so like the
old one, yet so wonderful of itself. To make it ours--to put our own
individuality into it, yet never hurt it. And that garden! What will
mother say? Oh, Richard--I was never so happy in my life!"

He knew that was true of himself, for hi