"You see, your being Aunt Tiny's nephew will help some; he likes her very much. And of course any friend of Willie's and--and--of mine--" With every word the formidable Zenas Henry increased in formidableness. She saw the scowl deepen. "You will come and see me, won't you?" she pleaded timidly. "I should be sorry if--" Robert Morton caught the slender hand and held it firmly. "I'll come were there a thousand Zenas Henrys!" "That's nice!" she answered with a nervous laugh. "There won't be a thousand, though. There never can be but one as good and as dear as he is! Only remember, you mustn't come right away. I shall have a great deal to tell them at home, and it won't be easy for Zenas Henry to face the fact that the Galbraiths have any claims on me. It has always been his pride that I had no relatives and belonged entirely to him. And I do, you know," she went on quickly. "Nothing on earth shall take me from Zenas Henry! I worried a good deal lest Madam L--lest my grandmother should insist that I spend part of my time with her. But that is all settled now. I can keep up my friendship with the Galbraith family by calls and short visits, and everything will go on as before. I don't want anything changed." The young man saw her draw in her chin proudly. "Of course I have forgiven my grandmother," she went on, "but I never can forget that she made my mother's life unhappy and that she was unkind to my father. So I never wish to accept any favors from any of them." "But the Galbraiths are not to blame for the past," ventured Bob, his loyalty instantly in arms. "No. But they are Lees." "Your grandmother was sorry--bitterly sorry," urged the young man in a persuasive tone. "It was probably her regret that caused her death." The girl nodded sadly. "I know," she said. "I realize she lived to regret what she had done. I am not blaming her. But for all that, she never can mean to me what she might have meant. Rather I shall always think of her as a handsome, stately old lady who was your friend and loved you." She turned to leave him, but he refused to let her go. "Delight," he cried, drawing her closer, "will your grandmother be dearer to you because she loved me? Tell me, sweetheart! Do I mean anything in your life? You are the only thing that matters in mine." He saw a radiance flash into her wonderful eyes, and in another instant her head was against his breast. "It is only because of you, Bob," she whispered, clinging to him, "that I can forgive the Lees at all." CHAPTER XVIII THE PROGRESS OF ANOTHER ROMANCE