Tobias obeyed orders. “Women are funny critters,” he philosophized. “You are all down on Carrie because she is pretty and the boys like her. Next to Esther Townsend she was the best-lookin’ girl in that show to-night. I heard more than one say so, too.” “Umph! More men, you mean. I don’t doubt it. Well, handsome is that handsome does, but men don’t never pay attention to _that_. There’s no fool like an old fool--especially an old man fool. Well, you’re in bed at last, thank goodness! Now let’s see if there is such a thing as sleep.” If Tobias had been permitted to remain longer at the window, and if he had looked up the beach and away from the village instead of down the road leading toward it, he might have noticed another yellow glare flash into being behind the dingy panes of a building not far from his post of observation. He would have been surprised and perhaps disturbed to the point of investigation had he seen it, for the building was his own property; this light came from the bracket lamp in Bob Griffin’s “studio” beyond the low point, facing the sea. Esther had been wrong when she decided that Bob was not in the town hall during the performance of “Pinafore.” He had made up his mind not to go near the place. He had no wish to see her under such conditions. He tried to convince himself that he never wished to see her again--anywhere, at any time. She had treated him abominably. She had led him on, had encouraged--or, at least, had never discouraged--his visits and his society. She must have guessed that he was falling in love with her; surely it was plain enough. And then, when circumstances had forced from him avowal of that love, she had not--no, she had not resented it. She had even allowed him to think that his affection was, to an extent, returned. And she had been glad when he announced his intention of joining her in Paris. And then--oh, he must not think of the happenings since then! Well, he was through with her forever. Absolutely through. He could go to Paris now with a clear conscience. His grandfather was practically well again and he might go when he pleased. Yet so far he had made no new reservations nor set a date for his departure. To be away, far away, where he could not see her or hear of her ought, considering everything, to have been an alluring prospect--but it was not.