n was uncanny. Now that he
came to think of it, Winchester and his little band never laughed over
their work--never. There was--she was perfectly right--there was no
inclination. Eagerness, presumably, left no room for Merriment. Or
else the matter was too high, too thoughtful. Not that they laboured
sadly--far from it. Indeed, their daily round was one long festival.
But Laughter was not at the board. Neither forbidden, nor bidden to
the feast, she just stayed away. Yet Mirth was no hang-back....
Anthony found himself marvelling.

"Who are you?" he said suddenly,

For a second the brown eyes danced; then their lids hid them. With
flushed cheeks the girl sat up on her horse.

"Who am I? I'm a daughter of Eve, Major Lyveden. Eve, who cost Adam
his Gramarye. So you be careful. Bar your door of nights. Frame
rules against laughter and idleness--just to be on the safe side. And
next time a girl drops her crop----"

"I hope," said Anthony gravely, "I hope I shall be behind her to pick
it up and have the honour of her company to turn a mile into a furlong."

"O-o-oh, blasphemy!" cried Andre, pretending to stop her ears.
"Whatever would Gramarye say? Come on, Joshua."

The next moment she was cantering up the broad white way....

As she rounded a bend, she flung up an arm and waved her crop cheerily.

Anthony waved back.

* * * * *

Miss Valerie French sat in her library at Bell Hammer, with her elbows
propped on the writing-table and her head in her hands. She had been
free of the great room ever since she could remember. Long before her
father's death she had been accustomed to sit curled in its great
chairs, to lie upon the huge tiger-skin before the hearth, or gravely
to face her father across that very table and draw houses and flights
of steps and stiff-legged men and women with flat feet upon his
notepaper, while Mr. French dealt with his correspondence. Always,
when the picture was completed, it would be passed to him for his
approval and acceptance; and he would smile and thank her and audibly
identify the objects portrayed; and, if he were not too busy, they
would remind him of a tale, the better to follow which she must leave
her chair and climb on to his knee....

Then he had died--ten years after her birth, nine years after her
mother's death. There were who said he had died of a broken heart--a
heart broken nine years before. It may have been true. Vale