'Oh!――――' His countenance fell. He righted his hat on his head. 'Does your mother ever speak to you about your father who is dead?' 'He is not dead.' 'Indeed; he is not dead. You are sure of that?' 'Yes, sir. He is away somewhere at the other end of the world, I am told.' 'Then she speaks to you about him?' 'No, sir, never.' There ensued a long pause, which became painful. Winefred said: 'But she thinks of him――a lot.' 'She thinks of him!' 'Yes, sir, I can see it, when she sits on the cliff and looks away to sea. She has her mind on him then; I know by the way she loses herself; and if I speak to her she does not hear me. She seems to me to be seeking that place beyond the ocean――they call it Tierra del Fuego, where he is. And at night, by the fire, she puts her cheek in her hand and looks into the coals. I have to shake her to bring her round.' 'And you believe she is thinking of him!' 'I know she is, though she never mentions him.' Again a pause. The girl's searching eyes were on him. He could not bear their penetrating light, and he dropped his on the shingle, which he stirred with the ferule of his umbrella. Presently Mr. Holwood said, 'Do you consider, candidly, that your mother is happy? Is she of a cheerful disposition?' 'Not over-cheerful, I reckon.' He winced. 'It is only when I am at my Tomfool tricks that I can get her to smile. I never heard her laugh outright. How can she? Just you think, sir, how it would be with you if your wife had run away and gone to Tierra del Fuego, and you did not know what games she was up to there.' The gentleman was visibly agitated. He fumbled in his waistcoat pocket for his latchkey, drew it forth and blew into it. 'Some sand has got in,' he explained. He was uneasy. He desired to hear more, but was afraid to ask. He desired to see more of that honest fresh face, but he was afraid to meet the clear eyes. 'I suppose Captain Rattenbury is a respectable person?' 'What do you mean by respectable? He is not what you call a gentleman. He's rough on all sides.' 'I did not mean that――a――a good man?' 'He has been very kind to us, and is teaching me to dance.' 'Oh!' Again his face fell. 'That is a bit of polish, I suppose?' He did not answer. Presently he said, 'My child,' and his heart bounded as he used the term. 'Your name is Winefred, you say. Does your mother have no shorter, more endearing name for you than that?' 'She calls me Winnie.' 'Well, Winnie, my dear, I trust you are a good girl and say your prayers.' 'I say my prayers.' 'What has your mother taught you to say?' 'I say, Our Father' 'Anything else?' 'Yes, I say God bless dear mother, for ever and ever, Amen.' 'And do you never pray God to bless your dear father, who is――in Tierra del Fuego?'