"But I thought Ferdie had written to you not to come? Tennant certainly said so, he assured me that Ferdie had written, urging you to stay here; he has no right to deceive me in that way--Paul Tennant; it's outrageous!" "Ferdie did write. And he didn't urge me to stay, he commanded me." "Then you must obey him," said the judge. "No; I must disobey him." She stood looking absently at the water. "He has some reason." "Of course he has--an excellent one; he wants to keep you out of the mess of a long illness--you and Jack." "I wish you would never mention Jack to me again." "My dear little girl,--not mention Jack? Why, how can we talk at all, without mentioning baby?" "You and Eve keep bringing him into every conversation, because you think it will have an influence--make me give up Ferdie. Nothing will make me give up Ferdie. So you need not talk of baby any more." The judge looked at her with eyes of despair. Cicely went on. "No; it is not his illness that made Ferdie tell me to stay here. He has some other reason. And I am _afraid._" "What are you afraid of?" "I don't know,--that is the worst of it! Since his letter, I have imagined everything. I cannot bear it any longer; you must take me to him to-morrow, or I shall start by myself; I could easily do it, I could outwit you twenty times over." "Outwit? You talk in that way to _me?_" Cicely watched him as his face quivered, all his features seeming to shrink together for an instant. "I suppose I seem selfish, grandpa." She threw out her hands with sudden passion. "I don't want to be, I don't mean to be! It is you who are keeping me here. Can't you see that I _must_ go? _Can't_ you?" "Why no, I can't," said the old man, terrified by her vehemence. "There's no use talking, then." She left him, and went back through the woods towards the tents. The judge came up from the beach alone. Hollis, who was sitting by the fire, noted his desolate face. "Euchre?" he proposed, good-naturedly. (He called it "yuke.") But the judge neither saw him nor heard him. As Cicely reached her tent, she met Eve coming out, with Jack in her arms. She seized the child, felt of his feet and knees, and then, holding him tightly, she carried him to the fire, where she seated herself on a bench. Eve came also, and stood beside the fire. After a moment the judge seated himself humbly on the other end of the bench which held his grandchild. There was a pause, broken only by the crackling of the flame. Then Cicely said, with a dry little laugh, "You had better go to your tent, Mr. Hollis. You need not take part in this family quarrel." "Quarrel!" replied Hollis, cheerily. "Who could quarrel with you, Mrs. Morrison? Might as well quarrel with a bobolink." No one answered him. "Don't know as you've ever seen a bobolink?" he went on, rather anxiously. "I assure you--lively and magnificent!" "It is a pity you are so devoted to Paul," remarked Cicely, looking at him.