“No. I didn’t want you to see me. I don’t want any one to see me. So I can’t go in because papa has the door open, and he would catch me on the way upstairs.” “What’s wrong with you, Miss Claire?” Bram had come over to her and was leaning on the table and speaking with so much kindness in his voice that the girl’s eyes, after glancing up quickly and meeting his, filled with tears. “Oh, everything. One feels like that sometimes. Everybody does, I suppose.” Bram’s heart ached for the girl. He guessed that she had been to Holme Park on the usual errand, and that she had been coldly received. He could hear Theodore strumming on the piano in the drawing-room. The piano was so placed that the player had a good view of the open door, and Bram knew that Theodore had chosen this method of filling up the time till his daughter’s return. Apparently he had now caught with his sharp ears the sound of voices in the kitchen, for the playing ceased, and a moment later he presented himself at the door with a smiling face. “Good-evening, Elshaw. Heard you sawing away, but didn’t like to disturb you till I heard another voice, and guessed that I might. Any answer to my note, Claire?” [Illustration: For a moment he stood, saw in hand, looking at her without speaking.--_Page 52._] “No, papa.” Claire had risen from her chair, and was standing with her back turned to her father, pretending to be busy sticking the long, black-headed pins into her hat. “No answer. Oh, well, there was hardly an answer needed. That’s all right.” From his tone nobody would have guessed that Theodore cared more than his words implied; but Bram, who saw most things, noticed a frown of disappointment and anger on the airy Mr. Biron’s face. After a pause Theodore said-- “I think I shall go down the hill and have a game of billiards. That will fill up the time till you’ve finished your carpentering, Elshaw, and then we’ll finish up with a game of chess.” And Theodore disappeared. A few moments later they heard him shut himself out by the front door. Bram after a glance at Claire went on with his sawing, judging it wiser not to attempt to offer the sympathy with which his heart was bursting. When he had been going on with his work for some minutes, however, Claire came and stood silently beside him. He looked up and smiled. “Go on with your work,” said she gravely, “just for a few minutes. Then I’m going to send you away.” “Send me away, Miss Claire? What for?” “For your own good, Mr. Elshaw.” Bram suddenly pulled himself upright, and then looked down at her in dismay. “Mr. Elshaw! I’m getting on in the world then! I used to be only Bram.” “That’s it,” said Claire in a low voice, looking at the fire. “You used to be only Bram; but you’ve got beyond that now.” “But I don’t want to get beyond that with you, Miss Claire,” protested he.