Mr. Armstrong had come and gone. Roberta had taken him into the wainscoted room, and while her mother and Wythie listened in wondering admiration, showed their guest the working of the models, explaining each part, and making clear, through her memory of her dear Patergrey's words, that which none other of the family had understood. A strange half-consciousness took possession of Rob as she talked--she imagined that it was not she herself, not young Rob Grey speaking, but that she was the mouth-piece for the wistful eyes so often raised to hers in that old room, and that Sylvester Grey spoke through her. As in the office in New York, her self-diffidence dropped from her, and she performed her part, absorbed in doing well her father's commission. Mr. Armstrong, as before, had listened silently, but now he was gone, and the Greys sat around the old mahogany dining-table, gazing, awestruck and motionless at the slip of paper lying on it. It was Mr. Armstrong's check for fifty thousand dollars. The bricquette machine was sold, the arrangements made for packing and shipping the models to its owner, and the result of Sylvester Grey's "dreaming"--securing peace and plenty to his family--lay, radiating hope and joy to his wife and daughters, on the old table where once the baby Sylvester had sat by his father's side. "I never expected to see so much money in all my life," said Prue, speaking first, and sighing like one awakening from a dream. "Oh, if only your dear, hard-working, misunderstood father could have known!" cried Mrs. Grey, dropping her head beside the check, her whole frame shaken by sobs. Wythie arose and laid her own head softly on the heaving shoulder. "Mardy, Mardy darling, we will be quite sure that he does know; we will believe he helped Rob stand firm against us all, and win us this great good--we say we believe in the communion of saints, and we will be quite, quite sure that dear papa has this joy, with all the rest," she whispered, her sweet face kindled into rapture, though her tears fell fast. Rob leaned across and took her mother's hand. "This has done something wonderful for me, Mardy," she said, slowly. "I don't know that I can explain, but it seems to me that all his dear, pathetic, dreaming life Patergrey was but partly alive, and that now he is living, truly living, and his life is complete. I feel as though he had come back to us." The door opened, and Aunt Azraella entered, stopping short, as she saw the group around the table. "For pity's sake, Mary," she cried, "has something else bad happened to you? I've only just got back, and I have been frantic to hear how Roberta came out. I suppose you've lost that offer, and see now how right I was. Well, I warned you." "Rob has saved us, Azraella," said Mrs. Grey, raising her head quickly--Aunt Azraella had the gift of drying tears. "Look at this."