got her wildness. Her brother and sister are tame enough."

"Sometimes I'm bothered about Barbara," Mrs. Cartwright agreed. "She's
rash and obstinate; not like the others. I don't know if they're tame,
but they had never given me much anxiety. One can trust them to do all
they ought."

Cartwright said nothing. As a rule, Clara's son and elder daughter
annoyed him. Mortimer Hyslop was a calculating prig; Grace was finicking
and bound by ridiculous rules. She was pale and inanimate; there was no
blood in her. But Cartwright was fond of the younger girl. Barbara was
frankly flesh and blood; he liked her flashes of temper and her pluck.

When the canoe came to the landing he got up. "Leave the thing to me,"
he said. "I'll talk to Shillito."

He went off, but when he reached the steps to the veranda in front of
the hotel he stopped. His gout bothered him. At the top Mortimer Hyslop
was smoking a cigarette. The young man was thin and looked bored; his
summer clothes were a study in harmonious colors, and he had delicate
hands like a woman's. When he saw Cartwright stop he asked: "Can I help
you up, sir?"

Cartwright's face got red. He hated an offer of help that drew attention
to his infirmity, and thought Mortimer knew.

"No, thanks! I'm not a cripple yet. Have you seen Shillito?"

"You'll probably find him in the smoking room. The card party has gone
in and he's a gambler."