She turned her head suddenly. Her uncle was looking at her. His eyes had
lost their far-away gleam, and were fixed upon hers, cold and
expressionless.

"Yes, uncle!" she said.

"I want to talk to you for a few moments," he said. "Listen, and don't
interrupt."

She leaned a little toward him in an attitude of attention. The words
seemed to frame themselves slowly upon his lips.

"You have been wondering, I suppose, like all the rest of the world," he
began, "why I sent for you here. I am going to tell you. But first of
all let me know this. Are you satisfied with what I have done for you,
and for your people? In other words, have you any feeling of what
people, I believe, call gratitude towards me?"

"I wonder that you can ask me that," she answered, a little tremulously.
"You know that I am very, very grateful indeed."

"You like your life?" he asked. "You find it"--he hesitated for a
moment--"more amusing than at Wellham Springs?"

"I am only an ordinary girl," she answered simply, "and you must realize
what the difference means. Life there was a sort of struggle which led
nowhere. Here I don't see how any one could be happier than I. Apart
from that, what you have done for the others counts, I think, for more
than anything with me."