Pyramids and the Sphinx, and the grand old ruins of Luxor and Thebes. He played backgammon with George, checkers with Thede, and hull-gull with Artie. He treated Mrs. Hansford with the utmost deference as a lady and an invalid, anticipating her wishes and making himself so agreeable to her that she looked forward to his visits with more interest than Elithe. To her Mr. Pennington never talked much. He knew that Mr. Hansford was watching him in that direction, and nothing could be more circumspect than his demeanor towards her. But he never for a moment forgot her. He always heard her when she spoke,—heard, too, the rustle of her dress and the sound of her footsteps when she was coming, and when, as she sometimes did, she gave him her hand, as she said good-night, the touch of her slender fingers sent the blood coursing through his veins, and he would curse himself for a fool to care so much for a little Western country girl who never could care for him, and who he knew ought not to care for him if she could. Meanwhile his reformation was progressing. He kept his pledge, was gracious to everybody, and only swore occasionally under his breath at the coarseness of his food and the way it was served. Every Sunday and every week day when there was service found him at church, more devout if possible than Elithe herself. Rob, who saw everything, said he kept his head down longer than any body else and bowed nearly to the floor in the creed. “You are so good why don’t you get confirmed when the Bishop comes to consecrate the church?” the boy said to him one day, and Pennington replied: “By Jove, I b’lieve I will. I hadn’t thought of that. Do you think she’d,—he’d, I mean,—do you think he’d take me?” Rob understood the blunder. Like his father, he was awake to the situation, and he replied: “He might take you, but I don’t know about _she_.”