s futility. He was sure the man would repeat only what his mother
had said. He did not care to hear that twice. And what was this man to
him that he should ask his opinion, appeal to him for advice in
directing this step in his career? He changed the subject abruptly.

"I think you said you had met Mr. Van Ostend?"

"Yes, twice in connection with the orphan child, as I told you, and once
I dined with him. He has a charming family: his sister and his little
daughter. Have you met them?"

"Only once. He has just written me and asked me to join them on his
yacht for a trip to Europe." Champney felt he was coasting on the edge,
and enjoyed the sport.

"And of course you're going? I can't imagine a more delightful host."
Father Honore spoke with enthusiasm.

But Champney failed to respond in like manner. The priest took note of
it.

"I haven't made up my mind;" he spoke slowly; then, smiling merrily into
the other's face, "and I came up here to try to make it up."

"And I was here so you couldn't do it, of course!" Father Honore
exclaimed so ruefully that Champney's hearty laugh rang out. "No, no; I
didn't mean for you to take it in that way. I'm glad I found you here--I
liked what you said about the 'value'."

Father Honore looked mystified for a moment; his brow contracted in the
effort to recall at the moment what he had said about "value", and in
what connection; but instead of any further question as to Champney's
rather incoherent meaning, he handed him the drawing-board.

"This is the plan for my shack, Mr. Googe. I have written to Mr. Van
Ostend to ask if the company would have any objection to my putting it
here near these pines. I understand the quarries are to be opened up as
far as the cliff, and sometime, in the future, my house will be neighbor
to the workers. I suppose then I shall have to 'move on'. I'm going to
build it myself."

"All yourself?"

"Why not? I'm a fairly good mason; I've learned that trade, and there is
plenty of material, good material, all about." He looked over upon the
rock-strewn slopes. "I'm going to use some of the granite waste too." He
put his violin into its case and held out his hand for the board. "I'm
going now, Mr. Googe; I shall be interested to know your decision as
soon as you yourself know about it."

"I'll let you know by to-morrow. I've nearly a day of grace. You play?
You are a musician?" he asked, as Father Honore rose and tucked the
violin and drawing-boar