"You should have gone on and claimed the prize. It was yours of right. When your star vanished I thought the world had come to an end." "It hadn't, you see! I put out the lights so that I could get home unseen." "You gave us a shock. Please don't do it again; and please, if you and your cousin are to meet, kindly let it be on solid ground. I'm a little afraid, even now, that you are a lady of dreams." "Not a bit of it! I enjoy a sound appetite; I can carry a canoe like a Canadian guide; I am as good a fencer as my father; and I'm not afraid of the dark. You see, in the long vacations up there in Canada I lived out of doors and I shouldn't mind staying on here always. I like to paddle a canoe, and I know how to cast a fly, and I've shot ducks from a blind. You see how very highly accomplished I am! Now, my cousin Helen--" "Well--?" and I was glad to hear her happy laugh. Sorrow and loneliness had not stifled the spirit of mischief in her, and she enjoyed vexing me with references to her cousin. I walked the length of the room and looked out upon the creek that ran singing through the little vale. They were a strange family, these Holbrooks, and the perplexities of their affairs multiplied. How to prevent further injury and heartache and disaster; how to restore this girl and her exiled father to the life from which they had vanished; and how to save Miss Pat and Helen,--these things possessed my mind and heart. I sat down and faced Rosalind across the table. She had taken up a bright bit of ribbon from the work-basket and was slipping it back and forth through her fingers. "The name Gillespie was mentioned here last night. Can you tell me just how he was concerned in your father's affairs?" I asked. "He was the largest creditor of the Holbrook bank. He lived at Stamford, where we all used to live." "This Gillespie had a son. I suppose he inherits his father's claims." She laughed outright. "I have heard of him. He is a remarkable character, it seems, who does ridiculous things. He did as a child: I remember him very well as a droll boy at Stamford, who was always in mischief. I had forgotten all about him until I saw an amusing account of him in a newspaper a few months ago. He had been arrested for fast driving in Central Park; and the next day he went back to the park with a boy's toy wagon and team of goats, as a joke on the policeman." "I can well believe it! The fellow's here, staying at the inn at Annandale." "So I understand. To be frank, I have seen him and talked with him. We have had, in fact, several interesting interviews,"--and she laughed merrily. "Where did all this happen?"