Here, thought Winthrop, was hint of a great love. He compared the dates. Captain Wayne had lived twelve years after his wife’s death. Winthrop wondered if those years had seemed long to him. Probably not, since he had Holly to care for――Holly, whom Winthrop doubted not, was very greatly like her mother. To have the child spared to him! Ah, that was much. Winthrop’s eyes lifted from the quiet space before him and sought the distant skyline as his thoughts went to another grave many hundred miles away. A mocking-bird flew into one of the oaks and sang a few tentative notes, and then was silent. Winthrop roused himself with a sigh and turned back down the knoll toward the house, which stood smiling amidst its greenery a few hundred yards away. As he entered the hall he heard Holly in converse with Aunt Venus on the back porch, and as he glanced through the doorway she moved into sight, her form silhouetted against the sunlight glare. But he gave her only a passing thought as he mounted the stairs to his room. The spell of the little graveyard on the knoll and of that other more distant one was still with him, and remained until, having got his hat and cane, he passed through the open gate and turned townward on the red clay road. Major Cass was seated in his cushioned arm-chair with his feet on his desk and a sheepskin-covered book spread open on his knees when Winthrop obeyed the invitation to enter. “Ah, Mr. Winthrop, sir, good-morning,” said the Major, as he tossed the book on to the desk and climbed to his feet. “Your rest has done you good, sir; I can see that. Feeling more yourself to-day, eh?” “Quite well, thanks,” answered Winthrop, accepting the arm-chair which his host pushed toward him. “I thought I’d come down and hear the verdict and attend to the matter of the rental.” “Yes, yes,” said the Major. “Very kind of you, sir.” He limped to a cupboard in one corner and returned with a jug and two not overly clean glasses, which he set on the desk, brushing aside a litter of papers and books. “You will join me, Mr. Winthrop, in a little liquor, sir, I trust?” “A very little, then,” answered Winthrop. “I’m still under doctor’s orders, you know.” “As little as you like,” rejoined the Major, courteously, “but we must drink to the success of our conspiracy, sir. The matter is all arranged. Miss India was――ah――surprisingly complacent, sir.” The Major handed the glass to Winthrop with a bow. “Your very good health, sir!”