"Leave Miss Meg to me," he said. "She's going to stop crying in a minute, and vow that she looks a perfect fright, and must really go to her room and bathe her eyes. And I'm going to tell her that a handkerchief dipped in a teaspoonful of milk and dabbed on red eyes is more refreshing and healing than a bucketful of cold water. Then we'll have tea, and eke a stroll on the moor, and perchance Providence will send us a quiet hour in which to look at facts squarely in the face, whereupon some of us will know just where we are, and the world will not be quite so topsy-turvy as it appears at this moment." Betty gathered that the "master's" harangue was not meant for her, and withdrew, whereupon Marguerite dropped her hands and lifted her swimming eyes to Armathwaite's grave and kindly face. "Is that milk recipe of yours really intended for use?" she inquired, with a piteous attempt at a smile. "The whole program has been carefully planned on the most up-to-date and utilitarian lines," he answered. "Did you hurt Walker?" was her next rather unexpected question, while pouring some milk into a saucer. "Yes." "I'm glad." "How many boxes of chocolates did he send you?" "About half a dozen." "Then I kicked him at least once for each box--gave good measure, too." "It's horrid and un-Christian--still, I'm glad. Do you take sugar and cream?" "Of course." "Why of course? Some people don't." "I'm an emphatic person in my likes and dislikes, so I talk that way." "I don't know what I should have done if you were not here." "You are too charitable. It is my being here that has caused all the worry." "No, I cannot take that view. There are happenings in life which, at the hour, seem to be the outcome of mere chance, but one realizes later that they were inevitable as autumn after spring." "What a libel on our English climate," he laughed. "Is there no summer, then? What about this present glorious revel of sunshine? Charles the Second, who never said a foolish thing and never did a wise one, remarked one day that, in his opinion, England possessed the best climate in the world, because no day was too hot or too cold to prevent a man from going out of doors. I've seen more of the world, geographically speaking, than his kingship, yet I agree with him." "My father----" she began, but choked suddenly. "Tell me this, Meg: how long is it since you last saw your father?" he demanded, well knowing the futility of any attempt to divert her mind from a topic which must surely occupy it to the exclusion of all else. "Just a week ago," she faltered.