disaster she could
not remove her gaze from the girl's face nor banish the dismay of her
own.

"He told--you--that--that----"

"That my father is still alive. He would, I think have told me more;
all that there may be yet to tell, if he had not so suddenly been
stricken. Where is my father?"

[Illustration: "WHERE IS MY FATHER?"]

"Oh! child, child! Don't ask me. It is not for me----"

"If uncle cannot and you can, and there is no other person,
Angelique--you must!"

"This much, then. It is in a far, far away city, or town, or place, he
lives. I know not, I. This much I know. He is good, a ver' good man.
And he have enemies. Yes. They have done him much harm. Some day, in
many years, maybe when you have grown a woman, old like me, he will
come to Peace Island and forget. That is why we wait. That is why the
master goes, once each summer, on the long, long trip. When Joseph
comes, and the bad Pierre to stay. I, too, wait to see him though I
never have. And when he comes, we must be ver' tender, me and you, for
people who have been done wrong to, they--they---- Pouf! 'Twas anger I
was that the master could put the evil-come into that room, yes."

"Angelique! Is that my father's room? Is it? Is that why there are the
very best things in it? And that wonderful picture? And the fresh
suits of clothing? Is it?"

Angelique slowly nodded. She had been amazed to find that Margot knew
thus much of a long withheld history, and saw no harm in adding these
few facts. The real secret, the heart of the matter--that was not yet.
Meanwhile, let the child accustom herself to the new ideas and so be
prepared for what she must certainly learn, should the master's
illness be a fatal one.

"Oh! then, hear me. That room shall always now be mine to care for. I
haven't liked the housewifery, not at all. But if I have a father and
I can do things for him--that alters everything. Oh! you can't mean
that it will be so long before he comes. You must have been jesting.
If he knew uncle was ill he would come at once, wouldn't he? He would,
I know."

Poor Angelique turned her face away to hide its curious expression,
but in her new interest concerning the "friend's room," as it had
always been called, Margot did not notice this. She was all eagerness
and loving excitement.

"To think that I have a father who may come, at any minute, for he
might, Angelique, you know that, and not be ready for him. Your best
and newest broom, please; an