"One day we were going for a picnic, and he walked on with the men, leaving me to drive after them in the cart with the provisions. There was only one thing he told me to remember, and that was just what I forgot--his camera, to take a special view which he'd wanted for an age. Four miles from home it jumped into my mind, and I sat in misery the rest of the way. The Major laughed when I told him, and sympathised with me for my upset. `You'll forget your own head next, and it will be a pity,' he said, `for it's a very pretty one.' "I hated to vex him just because he was so sweet about it. No one ever understood me as well as the Major, and when I was in a tantrum he would say, `Think it over till to-morrow, my girl. If you are of the same mind then, we will discuss it together,' and, of course, I never did think the same two days running. "When he was ill he used to lie looking at me, and his face was quite different from that in the picture--so sad and wistful. `I've not done much in the way of training you, my girl,' he would say, `but I've loved you a great deal. Maybe that will do as well. You are not one to stand a bridle.' He loved to have me with him; to the last he would stretch out his hand--" Her voice quivered and stopped, and Sylvia sat with lowered eyes, murmuring incoherent condolences. Esmeralda's love for her dead father was very sweet and touching, but to the more reserved nature it seemed an extraordinary thing that she could speak so openly to a stranger, and in the twinkling of an eye change her mood from gay to grave. The hands of the clock were approaching the hour when the rest of the family might be expected to return from church, yet there she sat dreaming over the past, and apparently absolutely forgetful of the demands of the present. Sylvia dare not risk a reminder which would seem in the last degree unfeeling, but presently the door opened, and Geoffrey Hilliard appeared on the threshold, looking round with anxious inquiry. "Good morning, Miss Trevor. The compliments of the season." Then he looked at his wife, all incredulous and aghast. "My dear girl, what are you about? Do you know that at any moment Bridgie may be here? I thought you had come for the easel." Esmeralda leaped to her feet with a cry of dismay. "Hurry! hurry!" she cried. "Oh, what are you waiting for? Carry it for me. Be quick! be quick!" and off she rushed with a swirl of flounces, a rustle of silk, a wild waving of arms, while her husband chuckled with amusement, and confided in Sylvia-- "That's the usual programme! First keeps me waiting for hours, and then upbraids me for being slow. Keep Bridgie occupied if she comes in too soon, please, Miss Trevor. This little surprise needs a good deal of preparation."