ed him absently, her mind centered upon her
thoughts, which were not always as cheerful as they might have been.

So rapt was she in meditation that she was not aware of Bates' presence
until he had stood near her for a full minute. His house-shoes enabled
him to move on noiseless feet and he had never stooped to that common
subterfuge of butlers, the nervous cough. He stood patiently, in
silence, and Miss Ocky, when she noticed him at length, was stirred to
remembrance by something in his attitude. It was just so he had used
to come upon her in the old days when he was wont to bring his
difficulties to her, apparently deriving comfort from her half-mocking,
half-sympathetic comments.

"Well, Bates--you want to speak to me?"

"Yes, Miss Ocky, I do--and I don't."

"I understand perfectly, thanks to my exceptional cleverness and my
vast knowledge of human nature. What you want to do is blow off
steam--as you used to--but you are not certain that it's quite the
right thing to do. Isn't that it?"

"Yes, Miss Ocky."

"Well, I can set your doubts at rest. It isn't right; and now that
we've settled that," added the lady comfortably, "go ahead and blow.
After a long and very virtuous life I'm beginning to think there is
much to be said for crime! I can guess your secret sorrow, too."

"I'm sure you can, Miss Ocky." A faint amusement that had lighted his
tired eyes at her philosophy vanished again. "You've been here two
months or more, and you've seen how it is for yourself."

"Yes--I have. I tell you candidly, Bates, if I had dreamed how things
were going here I would never have stayed away twenty years. I was
shocked when I saw my sister--"

"That's it, Miss Ocky, that's it!" In his eagerness he was oblivious
to his breach of good form in interrupting. "It's not myself I'm
blowing off steam about. It's Miss Lucy. You can guess how I've felt
through these years, watching her change into what she is. It has hurt
me, Miss Ocky, for when all is said and done, I'm Miss Lucy's man as I
was her father's before her--not Simon Varr's! You remember what she
was like before you went away--always bright and happy and full of fun
and singing around the house. We used to call her the Queen of
Fairyland--"

"My memory is excellent, Bates. You needn't harrow me further."

"And look at her now," continued the old man relentlessly. "A poor
meek woman that never dares to call her soul her own, faded and
lifeless