don!

My incentive and reward in one consisted of the all but incredible
change for the better in him. Terry's, was the hope of meeting the
Adored Lady; for he had not met her yet. Her voice thrilled him through
the telephone, saying that of _course_ she "remembered Terry Burns," but
it was her companion, Mrs. Dobell, who received him at the Savoy. She it
was who carried messages from the still-ailing Princess Avalesco to him,
and handed on to the Princess his vague explanations as to how he had
acquired Dun Moat. But Terry had seen, in the two ladies' private
sitting room at the hotel, an ivory miniature of the Princess, and its
beauty had poured oil on the fire of his love. At what period in her
career it had been painted he didn't know, not daring or caring to ask
Mrs. Dobell; but one thing was sure--it showed her lovelier than of old.

Seeing the boy on the way to such a cure as twenty Sir Humphrey Hales
could never have produced, I was happy while wrestling for his sake with
the servant problem, placing brand-new "antique" furniture in half-empty
rooms, and watching neglected lawns rolled to velvet. But not once
during my daily pilgrimage to Dun Moat did I catch sight of Lord or Lady
Scarlett or their old German servant. True to the bargain, they had
officially ceased to exist; and my one tangible reminder of the family
was a glimpse of a little boy who stared through a closed window of the
end wing--the "suite of the garden court."

I'd been passing that way to criticize the work of the gardeners, and
looked up to admire the twisted chimney, which rose practically at the
junction of the oldest part of the house with the newest. Just for an
instant, a small hatchet face peered at me, and vanished as if its owner
had been snatched away by a strong hand; but I had time to say to
myself, "Like father like son!" And I smiled in remembering that Jim
Courtenaye had called the Scarlett's heir a "venomous little brute."

At last came the day when the Princess Avalesco, Mrs. Dobell, and a maid
were to motor down and take possession of Dun Moat. Terry (much thanked
through the telephone for supplying the place with servants, etcetera)
was on the spot before them. He had dashed over to see me at Dawley St.
Ann (where I was packing for my return to town), looking extremely
handsome; and had excitedly offered to run back and tell me "all about
her" before I had to take my train.

"I shall go with you to the station," he sai