"By the right of priority. Do you know of any better, Mr. Farr?" with a pretty air of defiance. "When I was a little girl in pinafores I played here with my doll; when I was a schoolgirl I studied my lessons in this dear spot; and now that I am a grown woman," drawing herself up to her full height, and glancing at him merrily, "I come here to read, to ponder, and to think." "A sacred spot indeed," spoke Farr laughingly, but with just a little lowering of his voice. "I yield at once, for I see that no one could dispute your right." "No one." She threw out her hand with a pretty gracious gesture. "But won't you let me extend to you an invitation to occupy it whenever you feel inclined?" "Thanks, ever so much," he rejoined heartily, "You are very good. And now, can't I persuade you to rest a little after your climb, Miss Lawrence?" She slipped down on the rocks, and he threw himself at her side. "What delightful times you all seem to have here," he went on. "Do you know I think this is a most charming place, quite an Elysium." Jean's soft eyes lighted up with pleasure. "I am so glad you like it, but I fear you will find very little to interest you in so sleepy a place." Farr was about to make answer in words of conventional flattery, but something in the girl's tone of sincerity and good faith deterred him and impelled him to reply in kind. "But I assure you I am delighted with it. You know we knock about a good deal, and some of our stations are almost unendurable. We have been on the Sound for several months now, and this is to me by far the pleasantest place in which we have cast anchor." "It does my heart good to hear you say that," she rejoined naïvely, "for naturally Hetherford is very dear to us." "You have lived here all your life, Miss Lawrence?" "Ever since I was a wee little girl. Of course we have been away from time to time, but we are always glad to get back again." "I can well understand your feeling so, although I have had very little of home life myself." Farr sighed as he uttered these last words. Jean looked at him with gentle sympathy. "You say that sadly," she said. "Do I?" He turned on his elbow, and his grave eyes met hers. His next words were prompted by a sudden unwonted impulse. "Perhaps I will tell you about it some day." Then a silence fell between them. The sweet stillness held its sway o'er land and sea, its perfect harmony emphasized by the soft lapping of the waves against the shadowy sands below. The breeze was dying with the dying sun. Just off the shore a little white-sailed cat-boat was drifting in with the flowing tide. Jean drew a long breath and started swiftly to her feet. "Why, how late it is growing," she exclaimed. "I must be going, Mr. Farr." "Already?" he said, and then they made their way down the rugged cliff. "Take care, Miss Lawrence," he cried, as she missed her footing and slipped a little. "Please let me assist you," and he extended his hand.