But the dishes held very simple viands: bread, milk, wheat, with fruit and flowers, were about the whole, for some hurts or injuries dating back to the war time had slowly brought Mr. Erskine to a semi-invalid state, and Cherry wanted nothing but what her father had. I have told you nothing about Mr. Erskine--and yet he was a very noticeable man. Hair whitened more with sorrow than years (it had changed suddenly upon the death of his wife), cheeks where the native red still lingered, setting off the look of extremely delicate health, with features refined and above-board in every line. The eyes were both soft and flashing, the smile--once the merriest in the world--now never lost its shade of pathos. Everything about the man was refined, the daintily cared-for hand, the plain, scrupulously neat dress. Across one edge of the placid brow a red scar swept down and hid itself among the thick locks of frosted hair, and now, as you looked further, you could see that the right hand had lost its mate, and the left sleeve hung empty. With one hand resting lightly on that shoulder and kneeling at her father's side, Cherry read to him from a book laid open on the table, while Mr. Erskine was slowly finishing his plate of strawberries, dipping them, one by one, in the white sugar. Now and then a word of question, of comment, of explanation, passed between the two, with heads lifted and eyes meeting each other, then the reading went on again. This was what Magnus saw; and though he made out no words, the mere tones of Cherry's voice seemed to him as sweet as any bird or brook or leaf-stir in the whole morning concert; and I know not how long he might have stood there in the shadows of the hall, if little Snip, the terrier, being officer in charge and scenting mischief, had not rushed in from the garden on a tour of keen inspection coupled with much comment. Cherry rose quickly to her feet, Magnus stepped out upon the porch, and catching hold of her hand, as he went by, dropped down upon one knee by Mr. Erskine, in laughing glee at his astonishment. "Magnus!" he cried. "My dear boy, is this you? Can it be possible!" The one arm came round the boy and drew him close. "So this is what made you stumble over your report of last night," Mr. Erskine went on, turning to Cherry; "you were hiding a secret." Cherry blushed scarlet. "Did I stumble, papa?" she said, carrying off the dishes. "Very much, for you. Well, my boy, there is no need to ask you how you are. Stand off there, and let me have a good look." "I didn't mean to come in war paint, sir," said Magnus, as he obeyed; "but they said at home you would want to see it." "Of course I do. Well, they certainly turn out--showy fellows over there." Mr. Erskine hesitated over his adjective, as if to choose a safe one. Cherry bit her lips, Magnus laughed and coloured too. "They try for it," he said; "but we hope to be useful also, some day, Mr. Erskine."