"I thought you made a big fuss. Now I don't see how you walk about at all." "I walk on my will," answered he, grimly. "You're a good girl; yes, you are. You're a real Kaye. Our women were all good nurses and tender-handed. It's a pity--such a pity!" Amy thought the prodigious sigh that moved his mighty breast was for his own distress, and echoed his regret sincerely. "Yes; it is a pity. It seems to me it should be cured. I wish it could." "So do I. Say, little woman, suppose you and I try to cure it." Amy looked up. She had been speaking simply of his disease. She now saw that he had not been thinking of that at all. For the moment, while she so gently manipulated the swollen ankle and bound it with the lotions Marshall handed her, he had been quite comfortable, and the keen twinkle in his eye set her thinking. Was it the family feud he wished might be healed? He, who was the very foundation and cause of it? [Illustration: "SHE SO GENTLY MANIPULATED THE SWOLLEN ANKLE AND BOUND IT WITH THE LOTION."] She caught his hand in both hers, eagerly. "Do you mean that we might live at peace; in love, as kinsfolk should? Now--this peace day--when the Christ child comes? Is it that?" But Marshall made a little motion which might be warning or contempt. The old man's face hardened again. "What are you asking? Look, you've wet my cuffs! Your hands just out of hot water and all liniment!" "Never mind your cuffs. _Look out for your heart._ You're a poor, lonely old fellow, and I'm sorry for you." Before he knew what she was about, Amy had thrown her arms about her cousin's neck and imprinted a kiss--somewhere. It didn't much matter that it landed squarely on the tip of his pudgy nose. Archibald Wingate was so little in the habit of receiving kisses that he might easily have imagined this was quite the customary place for their bestowal. CHAPTER XXI. A PECULIAR INVITATION. It would be difficult to tell which was the most startled. Amy stepped back from the unresponsive object of her affectionate impulse and blushed furiously. She feared that he would think her bold and silly, yet she had only meant to be kind, to comfort him because she pitied him. Now, she was painfully conscious that Marshall was standing near, coolly observant, with a cynical smile upon his thin lips. It was a curious fact, which Amy instantly recognized, that this master of whom so many people stood in awe should himself stand in awe of his own valet. "Ahem--shall I remove the bath, sir? Has the young person finished?" Amy had not been accustomed to hearing herself spoken of as a "person," and the word angered her. This restored her self-possession. She looked up, laughing. "I don't know how I came to do that, cousin Archibald. I hope you'll forgive me." "Oh, I'll forgive you. I don't know how you did it, either. Well, man, why are you standing there, grinning like a Cheshire cat. I tell you she has finished. You can take away the things."