on came into the young man's face. "That's exactly
what I have done," he said quietly. "In the world, not in the home. I've
not even _seen_ homes--like this one. The sight of brother and sisters
playing violin and harp and 'cello together, with the father and mother
and brother and uncle looking on, is absolutely so new to me that it has
a fascination I can't explain. I find myself continually watching you
all--if you'll forgive me--in your relations to each other. It's a new
interest," he admitted, smiling, "and I can't tell you what it means to
me."

She shook her head. "It sounds like a strange tale to me," said she,
"but I suppose it must be true. How much you have missed!"

"I'm just beginning to realize it. I never knew it till I began to come
here. I thought I was well enough off--it seems I'm pretty poor."

It was rather a strange speech for a young man of his class to make.
Possibly it indicated the existence of those "brains" with which his
grandfather had credited him.

"Well, Rob, do you think he had as dull a time as you said he would
have?"

The inquirer was Ruth. She stood, still in the corn-coloured frock, in
the doorway of her sister's room, from which her own opened. "Please
unhook me," she requested, approaching Roberta and turning her back
invitingly.

Roberta, already out of the blue-silk gown, released her young sister
from the imprisonment of her hooks and eyes.

"His manners are naturally too good to make it clear whether he had a
dull time or not," was Roberta's non-committal reply.

"I don't believe his manners are too good to cover up his being bored,
if he was bored," Ruth went on. "He certainly wasn't bored _all_ the
time, anybody could tell that. He's very good-looking, isn't he?"

"If you care for that sort of good looks--yes."

"What sort?"

"The kind that doesn't express anything--except having had a good time
every minute of one's life."

"Why, Rob, what's the matter with you? Anybody would think you had
something against poor Mr. Kendrick."

"If he were 'poor Mr. Kendrick' there might be a chance of liking him,
for he would have had to _do_ something."

Roberta was pulling out hairpins with energy, and now let the whole dark
mass tumble about her shoulders. The half-curling locks were very thick
and soft, and as she shook them away from her face she reminded Ruth of
a certain wild little Arabian pony of her own.

"You throw back your head just like Sheik when he's go