A man of his
age likes to have merry young people about. Chat, create a cheerful
atmosphere. He likes to look at you, of course, but you have been so
quiet and lackadaisical of late, it is enough to hurt his feelings as
host."

"He has never shown any symptoms of anxiety," remarked Eloise.

"Well, he is a very self-contained man."

"He is indeed, poor grandfather; I don't know how you will manage,
mother, when you have to play the game of 'pretend' all alone. He is
growing tired of it, I can see. His courtesy is wearing very thin. I'm
sorry to make it harder for you by taking away what must have been a
large prop and support, but I heard papa say to himself more than once
in those last sad days, 'If I had only taken my father's advice.'"

"Eloise," very earnestly, "you misunderstood, you certainly
misunderstood."

The girl shook her head wearily. "No, alas! I neither misunderstand nor
forget, when it would be most convenient to do so."

Mrs. Evringham's fair brow contracted as she regarded her daughter with
exasperation. "And you are only nineteen! One would think it was you
instead of me to whom the next birthday would bring that detested
forty."

The girl looked at her mother, whose youthful face and figure betrayed
the source of her own heritage of physical charm.

"I long ago gave up the hope of ever again being as young as you are,"
she returned sadly. "Oh!" with a rare and piteous burst of feeling,
"if dear papa could have stayed with us, and we could have had a right
somewhere!"

Mrs. Evringham threw her arms about the young creature, welcoming the
softened mood. "You know I took you right to my own people, Eloise," she
said gently. "We stayed as long as I thought was right; they couldn't
afford to keep us." A sound at the door caused her to turn. The erect
form of her father-in-law had just entered the room.

"Ah, good evening, father," she said in tones whose sadness was not
altogether feigned, even though she secretly rejoiced that Eloise should
for once show such opportune emotion. "Pardon this little girl. She was
just feeling overwhelmed with a pang of homesickness for her father."

"Indeed!" returned Mr. Evringham. "Will you walk out? Mrs. Forbes tells
me that dinner is served."

Eloise, hastily drawing her handkerchief across her eyes, passed the
unbending figure, her cheeks stinging. His hard voice was in her ears.

That she was not his son's child hurt her now as often before in the
pa