sitting
around on rocks with my niece would bring it on again. You're not as
young as you once were, Pen, and you've got to take care of yourself."

"I am not aware, Port," Mr. Brown answered rather stiffly, "that I am as
yet conspicuously superannuated. Indeed, I never felt younger in my life
than I have felt during the past fortnight. I _have_ a little touch
of rheumatism to-night," he added, frankly, and at the same time gave
unintentional emphasis to his admission by catching his breath and
almost groaning as he slightly moved his legs, "but it has nothing to do
with sitting on the rocks with Dor--with your charming niece. You forget
that my rheumatism is hereditary, Port. Why, I had an attack of it when
I was only five-and-twenty."

"All the same, you wouldn't have it now if you had spent your afternoons
sensibly with me here on a dry veranda, or properly wrapped up in a dry
carriage, instead of on damp rocks, with that baggage. What on earth has
got into you I can't imagine. If you were twenty years younger, Brown, I
should think, yes, positively, I should think that you were in love with
her."

"Port," said Mr. Brown, with a tone of resentment in his voice, "I shall
be very much obliged if you will not use such language when you are
speaking of Miss Lee. She is the best and kindest and noblest woman I
ever have met. You have most cruelly misunderstood her. Had you given
her half a chance she would have been to you only a source of constant
joy."

Mr. Port replied to this emphatic assertion by a low, but most pointedly
incredulous, whistle.

"You have not the slightest conception, as such a comment shows," Mr.
Brown continued, with increasing asperity, "of the depths of sweetness
and tenderness which are in her nature; of her perfect unselfishness;
of the gentleness and trustfulness of her heart. She is all that a woman
can be, and more. She is--she is an angel!" Mr. Brown's elderly voice
trembled as he made this avowal.

As for Mr. Port, his astonishment was almost too deep for words. But he
managed to say: "Yes, I suppose she is--at least she has said so often
enough herself."

For some seconds there was silence; and then, with a deprecating manner
and in a voice from which all trace of resentment had disappeared, Mr.
Brown resumed: "Hutch, old man, you and I have been friends these many
years together, and you won't fail me in your friendship now, will
you? You are right, I _am_ in love with this swee