The old man bowed in courtly fashion over the young woman's hand. "We
are glad to see you," he said, gently. "I am blind, but I can see with
my soul."

"That is the true sight," returned Eloise. Her big brown eyes were soft
with pity.

"Have many of the guests come?" he inquired.

"I have a friend," laughed Eloise, "who says it is wrong to call people
'guests' when they are stopping at a hotel. He insists that 'inmates' is
a much better word."

"He is not far from right," said the old man, smiling. "Is he there
now?"

"No, he comes down Saturday mornings and stays until Monday morning.
That is all the vacation he allows himself. You are fortunate to live
here," she added, kindly. "I do not know of a more beautiful place."

[Sidenote: Invited to Luncheon]

"Nor I. To us--to me, especially--it is hallowed by memories. We--you
will stay to luncheon, will you not, Miss Wynne?"

Eloise glanced quickly at Barbara. "If you only would," she said.

"If you really want me," said Eloise, "I'd love to." She took off her
hat--a white one trimmed with lilacs--and smoothed the waves in her