glad I have found you again."

He looked down at her mistily. His gaze lingered on her face. "I shall
come, my child," he said gallantly, almost tenderly. "I shall come many
times."

"Yes, I shall look for you. Be sure." She took Uncle William's arm and
moved away to the staircase.

Uncle William's mouth opened and closed once or twice with a little
puff. When they reached the foot of the stairs he broke out. "He says
he's a Curie." He flipped the card in his hand. "I've known Arichat, man
and boy, for sixty year. The' wa'n't never any Curies there."

She looked up at him a little perplexed. "Couldn't you have forgotten?"

Uncle William shook his head. "I wish 't I had. You set a good deal o'
store by him, I can see. But I ain't likely to forget anybody that's
been brought up there. The' _was_ suthin' kind o' familiar about him,
too." He said it almost irascibly.

The girl sighed softly. "Well, he may have been romancing. Frenchmen
do--at times--"

"I call it lying," snorted Uncle William.

"Yes, yes." She patted his arm. "But can't you understand how you would
feel if you saw something beautiful--some place that made you feel the
way you used to feel when you were a child? You might think for a moment
that you had really been there, and say it--without meaning to tell a
lie. That's what I meant."

Uncle William looked down at her admiringly. "You do put that mighty
nice, don't you? You 'most make me believe I could do it, and I guess
mebbe I could. But Andy couldn't," he added, with conviction.

The girl followed her thought. "And what does it matter--if he buys the
pictures."

"Well, it matters some," said Uncle William, slowly. "I dunno 's I want
a liar, not a real liar, ownin' a picter o' my house. But if he jest
romances, mebbe I could stand it. It does seem different somehow."

When they parted, she looked at him a little wistfully. "I should like
to see him again," she said, waiting.

"Like enough," said Uncle William, gently--"like enough. But I reckon he
don't need you just now." He held her hand, looking down at her kindly.

"_I_ could see _him_," she suggested.

"How's that?"

"I could come down to the boat. I would be careful not to let him see
me."

Uncle William considered it. "Well, I dunno 's that would do any
harm--if you're sure you could keep out o' the way."

"Yes," eagerly.

"We're goin' by the Halifax boat," said Uncle William. "I can make
better 'rangements that way. I