alf appreciated the old town nor the fulness thereof until
I came to Needley!" said Madison plaintively to the toe of his boot,
while his hand scrawled the inquiry: "What is her name?"

"Vail," wrote the Patriarch. "That was her father's name. She is my
grand-niece on her mother's side. I do not know what they christened
her."

Madison once more, apparently deep in thought, sought refuge at the
fireplace, his hands plunged in his pockets, his shoulders drawn a
little forward, his back to the Patriarch.

"Fiction," he assured a crack in the cement between two stones, "was
never, never like this. It seems to me that I remember the occurrence.
It had grown a little dim with the lapse of time, it is true; but now
that I recall it, it comes back with remarkable clearness. I am quite
sure they christened her--Helena. Helena Vail! Now isn't that a
perfectly lovely name for a novel! And she'll be so good to the dear old
chap too--washing and ironing and cooking for him--and stealing out into
the woodshed for a drag on her cigarette--_not_. No, my dear, not even
that--this is serious business."

He turned, came back to his chair, picked up the slate, and wrote:

"I have the fortune, or misfortune perhaps, to be what is commonly
called a rich man. Money, they say, will do anything, and if it will
I'll find this niece for you."

The Patriarch's eyes grew moist as he read the words, and his hand
trembled a little with emotion as he held the pencil.

"I cannot let you do that," he protested. "You are very kind, and it
seems almost as though you had been brought to me providentially at the
end of long years of loneliness for a purpose, when my hour of
helplessness was near; but, indeed, I have no right to allow you to do
this."

"They tell me in the village," wrote Madison in reply, "that you have
always refused to accept a penny for anything you have ever done for
them. I have no doubt you would equally refuse to accept anything from
me for what you may do, and I should hesitate to offer it however much I
felt indebted, but this is something that you must let me do. It will
make me feel more--how shall I say it?--more as though I had a right to
the privilege of coming here."

The Patriarch wiped his still moist eyes before he answered.

"What can I say to you? It does not seem right that I should let a
stranger do so much, and yet it seems that I should not say no
because--"

Madison was bending over the slate, reading