Vincenza, black lashes still wet, gazed in wonderment upon the little pile of coins. “Oh!” she cried, “but Maria was not worth so much!” Austin picked up the gun, buttoned his coat, and returned Guido’s bow. “It is partly a--a little wedding gift,” he said. “And I wish you both all the happiness that life can give. Good-day.” He lifted his hat and wheeled. At that moment he saw, halted in a well-screened turn of the distant road by the creek, two figures. One was slender and dressed in white, and one was topped by a wide sombrero. And, as he looked, the white-clad figure was suddenly caught close to the other--so close that two heads were shielded by the same broad hat. * * * * * “Well,” said Austin, at luncheon, smiling upon his hostess, “I go back to town to-day.” Mrs. Thorburn’s face, until now wreathed in smiles that were marvels of effusive amiability, dropped as suddenly as if a rough hand had been drawn down across it; then it slowly reddened, and two eyes, startled, even apprehensive, exchanged a glance with Hal. “Nonsense!” cried the son of the house, leaning toward Austin. “We can’t let you go--that’s all there is about it. Ned here is off in the morning, and--and we can’t afford to lose anyone else. Can we, mother?” By now Mrs. Thorburn had recovered somewhat from her momentary surprise. Once more beaming amiably, she shook a finger at Austin in playful sternness. “I protest,” she said. “No, no, you can’t go. We all protest. Dorothy----” “Yes, indeed,” chimed in the girl, but with illy feigned enthusiasm. “Why--why should you go?” “I’ve got such a lot to do,” explained Austin. “You know Thomas--the man that’s been with me such a long time. He’s just been married, and I want to attend to a wedding-present for him.” “The idea of your hurrying away to look after a servant’s comfort,” cooed Mrs. Thorburn, “when you need rest so badly yourself.” “I think you’re right,” admitted Austin, airily. “I’m not as young as I was once.” “Not so young!” repeated Mrs. Thorburn. “Oh, how ridiculous!” And, “Bosh!” added Hal. But Dorothy said nothing, only coloured, as if in guilt. Ned was watching her, his boyish face set, his eyes half closed. The Lamberts alone were concerned with their luncheon. Miss Scott was all attention. Her sharp chin was up, her sharper eyes travelling alertly. “Yes, not so young,” continued Austin, jovially. “In fact, I’m nothing less than an old gentleman.” He gave a hearty laugh. Mrs. Thorburn shifted uneasily. His demeanour had in it an entirely strange note. The subdued, seemingly pliable Austin she understood. But what of this new one, changed all at once--more youthful, cheery and dominating?