others waited silently after he had knocked. Then the door opened
slowly, and Helena, slim and girlish in her simple white dress, appeared
upon the threshold. Her great dark eyes travelled slowly from one to
another, and then her face lighted with a gentle smile.

"Miss Vail," said Madison diffidently, "this is Mrs. Thornton and her
husband, and the little lad, with his parents, who owes so much to the
Patriarch, and they have come to--"

"To try and say a little of what is in their hearts"--Mrs. Thornton
stepped impulsively forward and held out her hands to Helena--and then,
breaking down suddenly, she began to sob, and the two were in each
other's arms, Mrs. Thornton's head buried on Helena's shoulder, Helena's
face lowered, her brown hair mingling with the gold of the other's, her
arms about the frail form that shook convulsively.

Doc Madison shot a covert glance at the three behind him--Thornton, and
Holmes, and Mrs. Holmes. Holmes, with downcast eyes, was shuffling
awkwardly from foot to foot; Mrs. Holmes, her woman's instinct touched,
was watching the scene with face aglow, her eyes moist anew; Thornton
was staring fascinated at Helena, a sort of breathless, wondering
admiration in his eyes.

Madison involuntarily followed Thornton's look; then stole a glance back
at Thornton again--Thornton was still gazing intently at Helena.

"Say," observed Madison to himself, "the longer you live the more you
learn, don't you? That's the kind of stuff Helena wears from now on, the
clinging white with the bare throat effect and all that. Why, say, like
that she's what the poets call radiantly divine--eh, what?"