my lovely roses."

He watched her face with evident interest and it seemed that his own
countenance had become less haggard and sad than formerly.

"Let me introduce my friends," said the girl, with sudden recollection
of her duty. "This is Mr. Merrick, my good friend and benefactor; and
this is Major Doyle and his daughter Miss Patricia Doyle, both of whom
have the kindest hearts in the world; Miss Beth De Graf, Mr. Merrick's
niece, has watched over and cared for me like a sister, and--oh, I
forgot; Miss Patsy is Mr. Merrick's niece, too. So now you know them
all."

The man nodded briefly his acknowledgment.

"You--you are Mr. Jones, I believe, of--of Boston?"

"Once of Boston," he repeated mechanically. Then he looked at her and
added: "Go on."

"Why--what--I don't understand," she faltered. "Have I overlooked
anyone?"

"Only yourself," he said.

"Oh; but I--I met you last night."

"You did not tell me your name," he reminded her.

"I'm Myrtle," she replied, smiling in her relief. "Myrtle Dean."

"Myrtle Dean!" His voice was harsh; almost a shout.

"Myrtle Dean. And I--I'm from Chicago; but I don't live there any
more."

He stood motionless, looking at the girl with a fixed expression that
embarrassed her and caused her to glance appealingly at Patsy. Her
friend understood and came to her rescue with some inconsequent remark
about poor Mumbles, who was still moaning and rubbing; his pinched
nose against Patsy's chin to ease the pain.

Mr. Jones paid little heed to Miss Doyle's observation, but as Myrtle
tried to hide behind Beth Mr. Merrick took the situation in hand by
drawing the man's attention to the scenery, and afterward inquiring if
he was searching for moonstones.

The conversation now became general, except that Mr. Jones remained
practically silent He seemed to try to interest himself in the chatter
around him, but always his eyes would stray to Myrtle's face and hold
her until she found an opportunity to turn away.

"We've luncheon in the car," announced Uncle John, after a time.
"Won't you join us, Mr. Jones?"

"Yes," was the unconventional reply. The man was undoubtedly
abstracted and did not know he was rude. He quietly followed them up
the rocks and when they reached the automobile remained by Myrtle's
side while Wampus brought out the lunch basket and Beth and Patsy
spread the cloth upon the grass and unpacked the hamper.

Mr. Jones ate merely a mouthful, but he evidently endea