The Townsend maid--not Nabby Gifford, but the other--answered his ring and ushered him into the library. Esther was there and there was no doubt whatever that she was glad to see him. In her manner was no trace of the angry resentment with which she had bade him good-by two weeks before. Her letter proved that she had repented of her treatment of him that night and now, as her hand returned the pressure of his, his heart leaped joyfully. She was the most glorious girl in all the world and she was his. Nothing could ever part them. There should be no more misunderstandings. Foster Townsend was in the library also, seated in the big leather chair. His greeting of the caller was as cordial as usual, no more so but no less. He did not rise, however. “Hello, Griffin,” he observed. “How are you? You’re quite a stranger. Had sickness over at your house, I hear. Esther told me.” “Yes, sir. My grandfather has been under the weather. He is much better now.” Townsend did not say he was glad to hear it. He said nothing and, picking up his newspaper, proceeded to read. Bob accepted Esther’s invitation to be seated and he and she exchanged casual comments on unimportant subjects. Bob was impatiently awaiting her uncle’s leaving them alone together. He had always done this heretofore; now, however, he remained. A moment later he dropped his paper and spoke. “Esther says you have had to put off your trip to the other side for a week or so,” he said. “When are you going?” Bob hesitated. Esther was regarding him intently and he was aware of her scrutiny. “I--well, I don’t exactly know, Captain Townsend,” he replied. “Humph! I see. That doesn’t mean you aren’t going at all, does it?” “No, sir. No, I don’t know that it does. I haven’t made up my mind just what I shall do.” “Humph! Good deal of a disappointment this having to put it off must have been to you, I should imagine. I judged from what you said to me, and what Esther says you said to her, that going over there to learn to paint is the one thing you’ve wanted to do all your life.” “Yes, sir. Why--why, yes, it is.” “Um-hum. Then you’ll go just as soon as you can, of course? Eh?” Bob hesitated. Townsend bit the end from a cigar. “Nothing to keep you here now that this sickness is out the way, is there?” he inquired, carelessly. “Why--why, no sir. I suppose not.” “Glad to hear it. Looks like too good a chance for you to miss. Esther agrees with me there; don’t you, Esther?” Esther nodded. “He is going, of course,” she said, quickly. “You are, aren’t you, Bob?”