sible to keep the entrance open, much more
fresh air.

She sat there alone, loving the sunny warmth and thinking of the
brother who had made her pleasure possible. Her secret mental
attitude toward him was marked by a certain aloofness and a quietly
judicial estimate which she did her best to conceal from her mother.
It had cost her not a little effort, too, to keep this attitude from
developing into stern censorious judgment. Just now it added to her
pleasure that her feeling toward him, at least for the time being,
could be mainly that of gratitude, though gratitude tempered by
curiosity.

"Perhaps he'd have done it long ago if I had asked him," she told
herself. "And I've longed for something of the sort so much. I do
wonder what made him finally think of it himself. It wasn't like him.
He might have thought of it and wanted to do it ten or twelve years
ago, before he had plenty of money. But it's not like him now."

The click of the gate attracted her attention and she saw a man coming
up the walk. "Why, that can't be Felix," she thought in doubting
surprise. Then, as she looked at him more attentively, "Oh, no! It's
that Mr. Gordon who was here last winter. Felix didn't seem to like
very well his calling on us. And mother isn't at home. Well, I'll
have to see him. And perhaps it's just as well, for I don't care
particularly whether Felix likes it or not."

He held her thin, talon-like hand affectionately as he asked how she
was and if she enjoyed her glass cage.

"Enjoy it! Oh, Mr. Gordon! You can't imagine how I delight in it! I
sit here most of the time every day in all kinds of weather. It has
given me the greatest pleasure, and I think I am better and stronger,
too, because of it. I was just thinking how grateful I am to Felix."

His face and eyes, which had been glowing with responsive pleasure,
darkened at her last sentence.

"I don't like that word 'grateful' in connection with such a matter,"
he exclaimed quickly. "It was a little thing for Felix to do, only one
out of all the many things that he could do for you if he would, and
one that he ought to have done long ago. And it doesn't seem to me,
Penelope, that _you_ would have any reason to be 'grateful' to Felix
Brand, no matter how much he might do for you."

The significant tone in which he spoke the last words brought surprise
into her face. She turned toward him with astonished inquiry in her
dark eyes, but, as she met his assured gaze, that