en he had been the man who seeks a good omen. Robin had
agreed with his suggestion after a long moment of rapt contemplation of
the tower.

"I wish Mr. Thrush could see it," he had observed, laying down the brick
he had taken up to add to the tower just before his father had spoken.
"He _would_ be pleased."

The words had been lifted out on a sigh, the sigh of the wonder-worker
who had achieved his mission. And then they had talked of Mr. Thrush,
sitting carefully, almost motionless, beside the tower, and speaking
softly "for fear." The firelight had danced upon the yellow bricks and
upon the cream-colored nursery walls, filtering through the high
nursery "guard" which protected Robin from annihilation by fire, and
the whisper, whisper of their voices had only emphasized the quiet. And,
with every moment that went by, the lit-up tower had seemed more like a
symbol to Dion. Then at last the cuckoo-clock had chimed and the wooden
bird, with trembling tail, had made its jerky obeisance.

"Cuckoo!"

Dion had put his arm round the little figure in the green jersey and the
tiny knickerbockers, and had whispered, still governed by the tower:

"I must go now, Robin."

"Good-by, Fa," Robin had whispered back, with his eyes on the tower.

With a very careful movement he had lifted his face to be kissed, and
on his soft lips Dion had felt a certain remoteness. Did the tower stand
between him and his little son as he said good-by to Robin?

Just as he had reluctantly let Robin go and, with his legs crossed, had
been about to perform the feat of getting up without touching the floor
with his hands, and without shaking the bricks in their places,--moved
to this trifling bodily feat by the desire to confront his emotion with
an adversary,--the door behind him had been opened. Already in movement
he had instinctively half-turned round. Something had happened,--he
never knew exactly what,--something had escaped from his physical
control because his mind had abruptly been deflected from its task of
vigilance; there had been a crash and a cry of "Oh, _Fa_!" from Robin,
and he had met Rosamund's eyes as the tower toppled down in ruin. Not so
much as one brick had been left upon another.

Robin had been greatly distressed. Tears had come into his eyes, and
for a moment he had looked reproachfully at his father. Then, almost
immediately, something chivalrous had spoken within him, admonishing
him, and he had managed a smile.

"It