as an elder daughter or a little
sister.

He meets Briggs on horseback, a short distance from the house. "O Mr.
Grandon," the man exclaims, "the maid has just come in and Miss Cecil
is lost!"

"Miss Cecil is safe. Get me the buggy at once. She is all right," as
the man looks bewildered.

Just at the gate he meets the weeping and alarmed Jane and sends her
back with a few words of comfort. The house is in a great commotion,
which he quiets as speedily as possible. When Mrs. Grandon finds there
is no real danger, she turns upon Floyd.

"You spoil the child with your foolish indulgence," she declares. "She
pays no attention to any one, she does not even obey Jane."

Grandon cannot pause to argue, for the wagon comes around. He is in no
mood, either. He cannot tell why, but he feels intuitively that Miss
St. Vincent is quite different from the women in his family.

He finds everything quite delightful at the eyrie. Cecil and Miss
Violet have made fast friends, and Duke, the greyhound, looks on
approvingly, though with an amusing tint of jealousy. The child has
forgotten her wounds, has had some berries, cake, and milk, and is
chattering wonderfully.

"What magic have you used?" asks Grandon in surprise.

Miss St. Vincent laughs. She hardly looks a day over fifteen, though
she is two years older.

"Will you not let her come for a whole day?" she entreats. "I get so
lonesome. I can only see papa a little while, and he cannot talk to me.
I get tired of reading and rambling about, and Denise is worried when I
stay out any length of time."

"Yes, if you can persuade her," and Grandon smiles down into the
bright, eager face. "In England she was with a family of children, and
she misses them."

"Oh, are you English?" Violet asks, with a naive curiosity.

"My little girl was born there, but I always lived here until I went
abroad, ten years ago."

"And I was born in France," she says, with a bright, piquant smile,
"though that doesn't make me quite thoroughly French." Then, as by this
time they have reached Cecil, she kneels down and puts her arm around
her. "He says you may come for a whole long day. We will have tea out
on the porch, and you shall play with my pretty china dishes and my
great doll, and when you are tired we will swing in the hammock. Shall
it be to-morrow?"

"I think she must rest to-morrow," Grandon replies, gravely.

"Oh, but the next day will be Sunday!"

"If she is well enough I will br