"He is your brother's child, I understand," she said quietly, when Gayne had made his last emphatic gesture and sunk back in his chair, red in the face. "Yes, he is. These things are awful in a family." "Awful," echoed Mrs. Lowell. The next morning, after breakfast, she went to Diana's room and knocked. The girl welcomed her in. She was shaking a blanket. "I do enjoy making my bed so much," she said. "I learned how at school." "Then let me watch you do it while I talk to you." The visitor sat down, and Diana went on in the most earnest manner to tuck in sheets and pat and smooth pillows as if her life depended on the squareness of corners. "I had a talk with Mr. Gayne last night." "I observed you through the window. I felt a certainty that you were not happy." "It was an ordeal, but I verified my suspicions--my worst suspicions. The man is planning to get his nephew out of the way, to have him shut up." Diana left the flap of a pillow-case to its fate and faced her caller. "To incarcerate him!" "Yes. In an asylum. Some state institution. He has been training the boy toward that end. You have seen it. I have seen it. What is his motive? That is the question." "Don't you think it may be merely to rid himself of a burden which hampers his life?" "But his own flesh and blood!" exclaimed Mrs. Lowell. "Does any one live who would go to such lengths without a greater reason? Miss Wilbur, let us see what the man does in these daily rambles of his. I am convinced that his artistic pose is a cloak. He didn't even know who Frederic Waugh was." "Oh, but to accompany the creature!" protested Diana. "No, of course, we shouldn't find out anything by accompanying him except that he cannot sketch, and I'm sure of that already. But let us go to walk this morning, and why not visit the haunted farm?" "No reason except that he knows we are aware that he haunts the place, which, if I were a ghost, would make it immune from my visits." "Yes, but he cannot expect us to remember or care where he goes. I feel I must be doing something about this, no matter how slight, and--and don't let Miss Emerson join us as we go out." "Perish the thought!" said Diana devoutly. "God will not let this outrage take place," said Mrs. Lowell, her thought leaping back from Miss Emerson to the neglected boy. "I wish I could ask Bertie to go with us, but I feel I must be very careful not to let his uncle suspect the depth of my interest." "Miss Emerson is very timorous about horned cattle," said Diana. "We can remember that. Sunburn, too. She has a great dread of becoming tanned." With these encouraging considerations the two amateur detectives stole downstairs. Mrs. Lowell went to the kitchen where Veronica was as usual at this hour drying the breakfast dishes. "Miss Veronica," she said, "would you do a little missionary work this morning?" "I'd like to hear about it first," was the cautious reply.