"The leaves is turnin' purty fast," he said to her that day, "an' I thought mebbe ye'd like ter go with me an' take a look at 'em. They won't last long." When the two had jogged along in almost silence for a few miles he said, pointing to a small rock by the roadside, "Thar's whar I fust found Mr. Page, Telly." She did not know it, but he was watching her face closely as he said it, and noted well the look of interest that came. "I told him that day," he continued, chuckling, "that lawyers was mostly all thieves, an' the fact that he didn't take it amiss went fur to convince me he was an exception. It's a hit bird as allus flutters. From what he's done an' the way he behaves I'm thinkin' more an' more o' him the better I know him, an' I believe him now to be as honest an' square a young man as I ever met." He was covertly watching Telly as he said this, but her face remained impassive. "I think Mr. Page is very nice," she answered quietly, "and has a kind heart. Did you know he gave Aunty Leach ten dollars one day when he was here, and she hasn't done praising him yet? She says it's a sure forerunner of 'a change o' heart,' and when she got the dress pattern the poor old creature cried." Uncle Terry was silent a few moments while he flicked at the daisies with his whip as they rode along. "Ye've had a couple o' letters from him sense he went back, hain't ye?" he asked finally. "I noticed they was in his writin'." He was still watching her face and noticed this time that a faint color came. "Yes, he wrote me he was finishing a couple of sketches he made here and wanted to have me paint them for him," she replied quietly. "They are the ones I am working on now." "That's all right, Telly," continued Uncle Terry briskly, "I'm glad ye're doin' it fur him, fur he's doin' a good deal fur us an' is likely to do more." Nothing further was said on the subject until they were on their way back from the head of the island. The sun was getting low, the sea winds that rustled among the scarlet-leaved oaks, or murmured through the spruce thickets, had almost fallen away, and just as they came to an opening where the broad ocean was visible he said: "Did ye ever stop ter think, Telly, that Lissy an' me is gittin' purty well 'long in years? I'm over seventy now, an' in common course o' things I won't be here many years longer." The girl looked at him quickly. "What makes you speak like that, father?" she said; "do you want to make me blue?" There was a little note of tenderness in her voice that did not escape him, but he answered promptly: