Squire started to follow.

"No; you wait outside. Two at once might make him a little nervous. He has
been a very sick man."

Roberta crept softly in on tiptoe. The room was darkened, and there was no
light save the reflection of the fire. Colonel Marsden was, in health, a
superbly handsome man. But, as he lay there in the dim light, emaciated
and pallid, there was something almost touching in the droop of his
shoulders and the look of helpless weakness about the mouth. It was not
long before he stirred uneasily and opened his eyes. His gaze fell
directly on the child sitting beside him and looking at him with her whole
heart in her eyes.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"I am Roberta Marsden. My papa's name is Robert, and my mamma called me
Roberta after him."

[Illustration: "My Papa's name was Robert, and my Mamma named me Roberta,
after him."]

He raised himself upon one elbow. A flush burned in his cheeks. It was
like a flame through alabaster.

"I don't understand," he said; "what does it all mean?"

Right there old Squire put in an appearance.

"Don't you know me, Mars Robert? It's Squire dat useter 'long ter you."