"And has she no home but this?" "Not at present. I assure you it's not a bad one, taking everything into consideration. She has had bad times with me, but we're really fond of each other, and she says she is happy and content." "And what about young Austin? Is he married yet? I haven't seen the young lady, have I?" "No; she arrived in this part after you left. Well, of course, people shook their heads at first; but, really, it seems turning out remarkably well. They were married last May, and Jockie is perfectly happy living under the wings of her mother-in-law. She has a most astonishing capacity of adapting herself to her surroundings, and from a rather noisy hoyden, she is shaking down into a very fascinating and sweet little daughter of the house. Old Mr. de Cressiers is pretty much the same. He is devoted to Jockie; and Austin has settled down in great content." Chuckles had kept silent as long as he could. Now he burst forth: "And I go to school, Cousin Ran, and I'm in the eleven, and I gets more runs than any other chap." "Wonderful!" said Randolph absently; then he turned to Monica. "She's looking so frail. Has she been ill?" There was no need to ask who "she" was. "I think I have worn her out a good deal," said Monica gravely. "But, of course, she's been through a lot since you saw her last. And though her spirit is not broken, nor her bright hopefulness taken from her, yet the loss of her father and home has told upon her physically." Randolph was silent for a moment or two. Then he rose from his seat, and stood looking down upon his cousin with pity in his eyes. Chuckles dashed away into the house. He could never be still for very long. "You won't let me say how sorry I am for what has befallen you," he said. "No. Please don't try to. It is just what I cannot stand. Talk to me as you would in the old days. Try to feel that my individuality is as strong and unimpaired as ever. It is only my outer shell that is the crock." "It is strange that such trouble should come upon you both in the same year," said Randolph musingly. "Yes," said Monica, with a little dry smile. "I tell Sidney we are the two builders who built their houses side by side, one on the rock, the other on the sand. The storms have come and beaten upon us; hers still stands firm, but mine has gone under. And I tell you honestly that I would give anything sometimes to have Sidney's faith. Something to which I could cling, some light beyond the present. I'm sitting amongst the ruins of my plans and hopes, and though I've given up the struggle at last of trying to erect my building again, I'm not what you call resigned or happy. It's a cruel fate to overtake me, is it not?" "I should start building again," said Randolph, looking at her meditatively. "It may have to be a different style of building, and upon a different foundation, but you can still be a builder of sorts."