She insisted, and the boy yielded the lawnmower to her, and, standing still, took out his handkerchief and wiped his face. Veronica pushed the mower valiantly up and down the ground. It was a cumbrous one and somewhat rusty. So the effort she let appear was not all assumed. When she returned, the boy took it from her and went to work again. He was on the last lap when Mrs. Lowell and Diana appeared, coming up from the sea, having returned from their ramble by the rocky shore instead of by the road. Mrs. Lowell's face lighted as she saw what was going on, and she cast a grateful look at Veronica as she approached. "Good for you, Bertie," she said, as he at last dropped the mower and again wiped his hot face. "It is fine of you to help Veronica." He looked at her for a second mutely, and then turned away. "Thank you," called Veronica as he moved off. "I'll bring you an extra large piece of pie this noon. I must go in and set the table now," she added to the others, and she winked at Mrs. Lowell who followed her into the house. "You succeeded better than I hoped," said Mrs. Lowell. "Activity is what that boy needs." "I wish whipping-posts hadn't been abolished," said Veronica. "I could see Uncle Nick tied up there and enjoy the activity that followed." Then she told Mrs. Lowell of the reception Bertie had given her and all he had said. Mrs. Lowell shook her head in silence and laid her hand on the girl's shoulder. "You can see we have work to do there," she replied. "We must not be discouraged." Diana had heard the recital. "What an extraordinary circumstance it is," she said, "that strangers should be endeavoring to build for the boy while his next of kin systematically tears down." "That is what I was telling you," replied Mrs. Lowell. "The man is pursuing a system." She shook her head again, and added as if to herself: "But he cannot defy Omnipotence." It was probably a very good thing for Mr. Gayne that he did not return to-day to the noon dinner. The waitress would have been likely to give him cool soup, warm water, and the undesirable portions of meat and vegetables. She served the boy with the best of everything. In the chatter about the table, he was never included, so his silence was not noticeable, but Mrs. Lowell observed the pallor under the sunburn, the hopeless droop of the mouth, and the languid appetite that should have been voracious in a growing boy fresh from exercise. After dinner she stopped him, the others all having gone out on the piazza. He was moving toward the stairway. "Where are you going, Bertie?" "Upstairs." "I don't think we ought to waste this weather in the house. Do you?" "I don't know." "Well, I do. It is liable to change any time now. We have had so much sunshine. We ought to make the most of it." "You go out, then," said the boy. "But I would rather you came, too." "No. You pity me, that's all." "No," returned Mrs. Lowell quietly. "I pity your uncle, not you."