"I know," said the lady. "Come up on the veranda."

That veranda made Consolation Cottage seem farther away than ever to
Lewis. Its floor was tiled. Its roof was cleverly arranged to give a
pergola effect. It was quite vine-covered. The vines hid the glass that
made it rain-proof. In one corner rugs were placed, wicker chairs, a
swinging book-rack, and a tea-table. The lady motioned to Lewis to sit
down. She sat down herself and started drawing off her long gloves. She
looked curiously at Lewis's face.

"You're a Leighton yourself, aren't you? Some relative to Mrs. Leighton
and Natalie?"

Lewis nodded.

"A cousin in some Scotch degree to Natalie," he said; "I don't know just
what." Then he turned his eyes frankly on her.

"Where are they--Mrs. Leighton and--and Natalie?"

"They are gone," said the lady. "They sold out here almost a year ago
and went back to the States. I have the address somewhere. I'll get it
for you." She went, but was back in a moment.

"Thanks," said Lewis. He did not look at her any more or around him. His
eyes fixed vaguely on distance, as one's eyes do when the mind tells
them they are not wanted.

The lady sat perfectly still and silent. The silence grew and grew until