CHAPTER II

A moment later when a tall man came up the path and dropped on the
top porch step with an air of being entirely at home, Mrs. Carew was
still dreaming, half-awake and half-asleep.

"Hello, Jeanette!" said the newcomer. "What's new with thee, coz?"

"Don't smoke there, Barry, and get things mussy!" said Mrs. Carew in
return, smiling to soften the command, and to show Barry Valentine
that he was welcome.

Barry was usually welcome everywhere, although not at all approved
in many cases, and criticised even by the people who liked him best.
He was a sort of fourth cousin of Mrs. Carew, who sometimes felt
herself called to the difficult task of defending him because of the
distant kinship. He was very handsome, lean, and dark, with a sleepy
smile and with eyes that all children loved; and he was clever, or,
at least, everyone believed him to be so; and he had charm--a charm
of sheer sweetness, for he never seemed to be particularly anxious
to please. Barry was very gallant, in an impersonal sort of way: he
took a keen, elder-brotherly sort of interest in every pretty girl
in the village, and liked to discuss their own love affairs with
them, with a seriousness quite paternal. He never singled any girl
out for particular attention, or escorted one unless asked, but he
was flatteringly attentive to all the middle-aged people of his
acquaintance and his big helpful hand was always ready for stumbling
old women on the church steps, or tearful waifs in the street--he