For a time there was silence. From within the house came the continuous babble of voices and laughter, the clink of [v]cutlery on china. The young people spent a long time over their supper. By and by the waiter returned to the veranda, deposited a plate of colored ices upon Ariel's knees with a noble gesture, and departed. "No ice for me," said Joe. "Won't you please go now?" she entreated. "It wouldn't be good manners," he joked. "They might think I only came for the supper." "Give me the dish and coffee-cup," she whispered, impatiently. "Suppose the waiter came and had to look for them? Quick!" A bottle-shaped figure appeared in the window, and she had no time to take the plate and cup which were being pushed through the palm-leaves. She whispered a word of warning, and the dishes were hurriedly withdrawn as Norbert Flitcroft, wearing a solemn expression of injury, came out upon the veranda. "They want you. Some one's come for you." "Oh, is grandfather waiting?" She rose. "It isn't your grandfather that has come for you," answered the fat one, slowly. "It is Eskew Arp. Something's happened." She looked at him for a moment, beginning to tremble violently, her eyes growing wide with fright. "Is my grandfather--is he sick?" "You'd better go and see. Old Eskew's waiting in the hall. He'll tell you." She was by him and through the window instantly. Mr. Arp was waiting in the hall, talking in a low voice to Mrs. Pike. "Your grandfather's all right," he told the frightened girl quickly. "He sent me for you. Just hurry and get your things." She was with him again in a moment, and seizing the old man's arm, hurried him down the steps and toward the street almost at a run. "You're not telling me the truth," she said. "You're not telling me the truth!" "Nothing has happened to Roger Tabor," panted Mr. Arp. "We're going this way, not that." They had come to the gate, and as she turned to the right he pulled her sharply to the left. "Where are we going?" she demanded. "To your Uncle Jonas's." "Why?" she cried, in supreme astonishment. "What do you want to take me there for? Don't you know that he doesn't like me--that he has stopped speaking to me?" "Yes," said the old man, grimly; "he has stopped speaking to everybody." These startling words told Ariel that her uncle was dead. They did not tell her what she was soon to learn--that he had died rich, and that, failing other heirs, she and her grandfather had inherited his fortune. II It was Sunday in Canaan--Sunday some years later. Joe Louden was sitting in the shade of Main Street bridge, smoking a cigar. He was alone; he was always alone, for he had been away a long time, and had made few friends since his return.