And here Reliance broke in. “Millard,” she ordered, “be still! Yes, you’d better take off your coat, Foster; that is, if you’re goin’ to stay any time. It’s warm in here. Esther usually has this house hot enough to roast a Sunday dinner. Esther, get him a chair.” The girl brought forward the rocker she had been sitting in. Townsend pulled off his ulster and handed it and his hat and umbrella to Mr. Clark who was obsequiously waiting to receive them. He lowered himself into the rocker. Then he turned to the others. “You better sit down, all of you,” he said. “What I’ve got to say may take a little time. Sit down, Reliance. Sit down, Esther.” Mr. Clark’s name was not included in the invitation, but he was the first to sit. Esther took a chair at the other side of the table. Reliance was shaking out her waterproof. “Sit down, Reliance,” repeated Townsend. Miss Clark’s reply was promptly given. “I intend to, soon as I’m ready,” she declared, with some tartness. The caller looked up at her. “Reliance,” he observed, with a grim smile, “you don’t change much. When you were a girl I remember you used to say ‘Black’ whenever anybody else said ‘White.’ Well, independence is a good thing, if you can afford it.” Reliance, having arranged the waterproof to her satisfaction, hung it on a hook by the door. She drew forward a chair from the wall. “I’ve managed to scratch along on it so far,” she announced, placing herself in the chair. “Well, what is it you’ve come to this house for, after all these years, Foster Townsend?” Townsend was looking at his niece, not at her. And it was the niece whom he addressed. “Esther,” he said, after a moment, “how long has it been since your father died?” The girl met his keen gaze for an instant, then looked down at the book upon the table. “Ten years,” she said. Her tone was not too cordial. This rich uncle of hers had been a sort of bugbear in her family. Her father never mentioned his name while he lived and, although her mother had mentioned it often enough, it was only to call its owner a selfish, proud, wicked, stubborn man. When their daughter and Foster Townsend met on the street he sometimes acknowledged the meeting with a nod and sometimes not. His wife had been quite different; she always sent the girl presents at Christmas and was kindly gracious. Esther would have liked her, or would have liked to like her. And she envied her, of course; every female in Harniss did that. She envied Foster Townsend, too, but she was far from liking him. He repeated her words. “Ten years, eh?” he observed, meditatively. “Humph! is it possible! It doesn’t seem so long--yet, of course it is. And the last time I was in this house was at his funeral. No wonder you’re surprised to see me here now. I’m surprised, myself, to be here.... You’re surprised, too, aren’t you, Reliance?” Millard hastened to declare that he was, but was awful glad, of course. His sister’s reply was a surprise in itself.