d of the House, and then it would matter very little----

"Also," Clare added, "he will scarcely have time just now. He is with
father all day--and I don't see what he could do, after all."

"He could see her," said Robin slowly. He suddenly remembered that
Dahlia had once expressed great admiration for his father--she was the
very woman to like that kind of man. A hurried mental comparison
between his father and Uncle Garrett favoured the idea.

"He could see her," he said again. "I think she might like him."

"My dear boy," said Garrett, "take it from me that what a man could do
I've done. I assure you it's useless. Your father is a very excellent
man, but, I must confess, in my opinion scarcely a diplomat----"

"Well, at any rate it's worth trying," cried Robin impatiently. "We
must, I suppose, eat humble pie after the things you said to him, Aunt
Clare, the other day, but I must confess it's the only chance. He will
be decent about it, I'm sure--I think you scarcely realise how nasty it
promises to be."

"Who is to ask?" said Garrett.

"I will ask him," said Clare suddenly. "Perhaps after all Robin is
right--he might do something."

It might, she thought, be the best thing. Unless he tried, Robin would
always consider him capable of succeeding--but he should try and
fail--fail! Why, of course he would fail.

"Thank you, Aunt Clare." Robin walked to the door and then turned:
"Soon would be best"--then he closed the door behind him.

His father was coming down the stairs as he passed through the hall.
He saw him against the light of the window and he half turned as though
to speak to him--but his father gave no sign; he looked very
stern--perhaps his grandfather was dead.

The sudden fear--the terror of death brought very close to him for the
first time--caught him by the throat.

"He is not dead?" he whispered.

"He is asleep," Harry said, stopping for a moment on the last step of
the stairs and looking at him across the hall--"I am afraid that he
won't live through the night."

They had both spoken softly, and the utter silence of the house, the
heaviness of the air so that it seemed to hang in thick clouds above
one's head, drove Robin out. He looked as though he would speak, and
then, with bent head, passed into the garden.

He felt most miserably lonely and depressed--if he hadn't been so old
and proud he would have hidden in one of the bushes and cried. It was
all so terrible--his