"Why, where's Molly Peterkin?" he asked abruptly, with a laugh that seemed to slip from him against his will. The other broke into a long whistle and tossed the end of his cigarette through the doorway. "You needn't think I've forgotten her," he replied; "she's the one bright spot I see in this barren hole. By the way, why do you think her a fool?" "Because she is one." "And you're a brute. What does a man want with brains in a woman, anyway. Maria had them and they didn't keep her from coming to shipwreck." Christopher reached for the lantern. "Well, I've got to go now," he broke in, "and you'd better be trotting home or you'll have the old man and the hounds out after you." With the lantern swinging from his hand, he went to the door and waited for Will; then passing out, he turned the key in the lock, and with a short "Good-night!" started briskly toward the house. Will followed him to the kitchen steps, and then keeping to the path that trailed across the yard, he passed through the whitewashed gate and went on along the sunken road which led by the abandoned ice-pond. Here he turned into the avenue of chestnuts, and with the lighted windows of the Hall before him, walked slowly toward the impending interview with his grandfather. As he entered the house, Miss Saidie looked out from the dining-room doorway and beckoned in a stealthy fashion with the hen-house key. "He has been hunting everywhere for you," she whispered, "and I told him you'd gone for a little stroll along the road." An expression of anger swept over Will's face, and he made a helpless gesture of revolt. "I won't stand it any longer," he answered, with a spurt of resolution which was exhausted in the feeble speech. Miss Saidie put up her hand and straightened his necktie with an affectionate pat. "Only for a little while, dear," she urged; "he's in one of his black humours, and it will blow over, never fear. Things are never so bad but there's hope of a mending some day. Try to please him and go to work as he wants you to do. It all came of the trouble at the university--he had set his heart on your carrying off the honours." "It was his fault," said Will stubbornly. "I begged him not to send me there. It was his fault." "Well, that can't be helped now," returned the little woman decisively. "All we can do is to make things as easy as we can, and if thar's ever to be any peace in this house again you must try to humour him. I never saw him in such a state before, and I've known him for sixty years and slept in a trundle-bed with him as a baby. The queerest thing about it, too, is that he seems to get closer and closer every day. Just now thar was a big fuss because I hadn't sent all the fresh butter to market, and I thought he'd have a fit when he found I was saving some asparagus for dinner to-morrow." "Where is he now?" asked Will in a whisper.