Madam Lee, he read, weary with excitement, had retired almost immediately after their departure, the maid attending her having left her sleeping like a tired child; but when they had gone to arouse her in the morning, it had been only to find that she had passed quietly away in her sleep without struggle or suffering. Snelling had gone over to New York to make the necessary funeral arrangements, and the family were to follow the next day. There was nothing Bob could do, but if he and Delight wished to accompany them, Mrs. Galbraith would be glad to have them. Madam Lee had been devoted to Bob, and it was Delight's unchallenged right to share in the final obsequies to her grandmother. Awed, and in a low voice, Robert Morton read the communication aloud. "I shall go, of course," he said, with a catch in his voice. "Madam Lee--was very dear to me. Had she been of my own people I could not have cared for her more deeply." "And I--what shall I do?" questioned Delight. The appeal was to Bob, and the sense of dependence vibrating in it thrilled him with tender gladness. "I suppose," he answered gently, "it would make your grandmother happy to know you were there. Wouldn't it be a token of forgiveness?" "What do you think, Willie?" the girl asked. "I agree with Bob that you should go, my dear," the old man replied. "Somehow it seems as if your grandmother would rest the sweeter for feelin' you were near by. An' anyhow, it's a mark of respect to the dead. You're bound to show that, no matter how you feel. I'm pretty sure that if you an' your grandmother had had the chance to get better acquainted, you would have loved one another dearly. It was only that it all came too late for you to feel toward her the same as Bob does." "Perhaps!" Delight returned with half-dazed seriousness. So it was decided the two young persons would go with the Galbraiths to New York, and the next day they joined the Belleport family and followed the body of the fine, stately old Southern woman to its last resting place. There were no outside friends among the small group of mourners, and the two days of constant and intimate companionship drew them together with a closeness very vital in its results. Delight was received into the circle with a tact and affection that not only put her at her ease but won her heart; and Robert Morton, as Madam Lee's favorite, was as much a part of the family as if he had been born into it. For the time being, the common grief banished from his mind every other thought, and once again he and his old-time friends met without a shadow of distrust between them. Even Cynthia was in her most appealing mood, casting all caprice and artificiality aside and centering most of her attention on her newly acquired cousin. The silent benediction of peace the presence of the dead brought brooded over them all, and it was with no perfunctory tenderness that Delight bent and gently kissed her grandmother's cold forehead.