She nodded. "I know, I never could please my grandmother--she brought me up. My mother and father died when I was a baby. I think grandmother hated me; she thought everything I did was wrong. Oh, I was so miserable! And when I was eighteen I got married--and that was a mistake." Sam gazed up at her in silent sympathy, "I mean my--husband was so much older than I," she said. Then with an evident effort to change the subject she added that one would think it would be simple enough to be happy; "all my life I only wanted to be happy," she said. "You're happy now, aren't you?" he asked, She looked down at him--he was sitting on a stool before the fire near her feet--and laughed with a catching of the breath. "Oh, yes, yes; I'm happy." And Sara caught his breath too, for there were tears in her eyes. But instantly she veered away from personalities. "What is that scar on your wrist?" Sam looked down at his hands clasped about his knees, and blushed faintly. "Oh, nothing; I was very young when that happened." "How did it happen?" she asked absently. It was often possible to start Sam talking and then think her own thoughts without interruption. "Why, I was about twelve, I believe," Sam said, "and Miss Ellen Bailey--she used to teach school here, then she got married and went out West;--she gave me a little gold image of Pasht, at least I thought it was gold. It was one of those things you ladies wear on your watch-chains, you know." "Yes?" she said indolently. "Well, I took a tremendous fancy to it. But it seems it wasn't gold, it was brass, and somebody told me so; I think it was Miss Ellen herself. I was so disappointed, I didn't want to live--queer! I can remember now just how I felt; a sort of sinking, here;" Sam laid his hand on his breast, "So I decided to throw myself out of the window. I did; but unfortunately--" "You threw yourself out of the window!" she is interrupted horrified. Sam laughed. "Oh, well, I wasn't successful: I continued to live. Unfortunately my trousers caught on the grape trellis under the window, and there I hung! It must have been pretty funny--though I didn't think so at the time. First place, I tore my wrist on a nail--that's the scar; and then father caught me and sent me to bed for being a fool; so I didn't gain anything." His lip drooped. His feeling for his father was a candid mixture of amusement and contempt. "But do you always act on the spur of the moment?" she said astonished. Sam laughed and said he supposed so. "I am a good deal of a fool," he added simply. "Well," she said sighing, "it's dangerous to be like that. I know, because I--I am a good deal of a fool myself." Then again, abruptly, she changed the subject. "What do you think? I'm going to have some company!" Sam frowned. "Your brother?" "No, oh no; not--Mr. Pryor." Then she told him that Dr. Lavendar had asked her if she would look after a little boy for him for a few weeks.