r showed that at least she caught the indications of a
compliment.

Presently, when she had had her tea, had patted Ellen's hand for bringing
it, and had looked about her a little with observant eyes which showed
pleasure when they rested on certain familiar objects, she laid her white
curls back against the chair and looked up at her granddaughter like a
child who asks to be put to sleep.

Burns advanced again. "May I have the honour?" he asked, stooping over
the tiny figure with outstretched arms.

"You'll find me pretty heavy, Doctor," said she, but she put up her
arms and clasped his neck as he lifted her, quite as if it were a matter
of course with her to have stalwart men offer their services on all
occasions. Burns strode up the steep and narrow staircase with her as if
she had been a child, Charlotte preceding him with a pair of candles. In
her own room he laid the little old lady on her bed, then stooped once
more.

"May I have a reward for that?" he asked, and without waiting for
permission kissed the delicate cheek, as soft and smooth as velvet
beneath his lips.

"You are a very good young man," said the old lady. "I think I shall have
to adopt you as a grandson."

Burns laid his hand on his heart and made her a deeply respectful bow, at
which she laughed and waved him away.

"Adorable," said he to Charlotte, on his way down, "is not a word which
men use over every small object, as you women do, therefore it should
have the more force when they do make use of it. No other word fits
little Madam Chase so well. Consider me yours to command in her service,
at any hour of day or night."

"Thank you," Charlotte called softly after him. "I assure you she will
command you herself, and delight in doing it. She never fails to
recognize homage when she receives it, or to demand it when she does
not. But she will give you quite as much as she takes from you."

"I'm confident of it," and Burns descended to his wife. "You have a
rival," he told her solemnly.

CHAPTER X

A RUNAWAY ROAD

Camera hung by a strap over her shoulder, small tripod tucked under her
arm, Charlotte Chase Ruston, photographer, turned aside from the country
road along which she was walking, to follow a winding lane leading into a
deep wood. The luring entrance to this lane had been beyond her power to
resist, although the sun had climbed nearly to the zenith, warning her
that it was time to turn her steps toward home. In her se