"There! there! of course you are. Tut! tut! How could I forget it. You
see, I've been so many years feelin' as if I didn't have a brother that
I've sort of got used to his bein' gone."

"I have not." Her eyes filled as she said it. The captain was greatly
moved.

"I'm a blunderin' old fool, my dear," he said. "I beg your pardon. Do
try to forgive me, won't you? And, perhaps--perhaps I can make up your
loss to you, just a little mite. I'd like to. I'll try to, if--"

He laid a hand on her shoulder. She avoided him and, moving away, seated
herself in a chair at the opposite side of the desk. The avoidance was
so obvious as to be almost brutal. Captain Elisha looked very grave for
an instant. Then he changed the subject.

"I was lookin' at your oil paintin's," he said. "They're pretty fine,
ain't they? Any of them your work, Caroline?"

"MY work?" The girl's astonishment was so great that she turned to stare
at her questioner. "MY work?" she repeated. "Are you joking? You can't
think that I painted them."

"I didn't know but you might. That one over there, with the trees and
folks dancin'--sort of picnic scene, I judge--that looks as if you might
have done it."

"That is a Corot."