Any one could have seen it. The expression upon her face was sufficient indication of the shock of that disappointment. He, himself, was anything but happy. This thing he was doing was for her good; some of those days she would realize that and be grateful to him, but now--well, now the doing of it made him feel meanly guilty. He put his hand on her shoulder. “Sorry, Esther,” he said, with a shake in his voice. “I’m sorry enough things have turned out as they have, but--well, it is for the best, I guess. Yes,” with a nod of stubborn determination, “I _know_ it is. Now, don’t feel too bad, my girl. Try and brace up. Come!” She was trying, but it was hard work. If he had told her this before Bob had told her of his going she would not have minded so much. Since then--and particularly since the time when she had told him of Bob’s proposed trip and he had received the tidings with such complacency--she had thought of little else but the wonderful days to come. He patted her shoulder. “Brace up, Esther,” he said. “It isn’t off for good, remember. You and I will go over there together by and by, just as sure as I live. It is just put off for the present, that’s all.” “But why, Uncle Foster?” she faltered. “Why? What has happened?” He told her Mrs. Carter had written saying she could not go. Various things had turned up--he was not specific concerning the nature of these things--which made it impossible for her to leave her Boston house for some months at least. “It’s too late to get any one else,” he explained, gently. “And, besides, I don’t know of any one else I could trust to pilot a cruise like that with you aboard. We must face it as it is. There are lots of disappointments in life; I have had my share of them. And pretty generally,” with another dogged nod, “they turn out to be for the best in the end. You just try and believe this one will turn out that way.” She told him that she would try, but her tone was so forlorn that his feeling of meanness and guilt increased. And her next speech strengthened them still more. “I won’t be a baby, Uncle Foster,” she bravely answered him. “I know you are as sorry as I am. It isn’t your fault at all, of course. And,” with an attempt at a smile, “I know, too, that I ought to be glad for your sake. I have never felt right about leaving you.” He shifted uneasily and gave the “cricket” before the easy-chair a kick which sent it sliding across the floor. “Don’t talk that way,” he growled. “I--Humph! Well, I’ll make this all up to you before we finish, I’ll swear to that.... Say,” with a sudden inspiration, “I tell you one thing we’ll do! I shall have to go to Washington one of these days and I’ll take you with me. We’ll have a regular spree along with the President and the rest of the big-bugs. That will be something to look forward to, anyhow.”