"No, no, lad, not there. The other way. We go down into the
valley this time."

"The valley--MY valley, with the Silver Lake?"

"Yes, my son; and beyond--far beyond." The man spoke dreamily. He
was looking at a photograph in his hand. It had slipped in among
the loose sheets of music, and had not been put away with the
others. It was the likeness of a beautiful woman.

For a moment David eyed him uncertainly; then he spoke.

"Daddy, who is that? Who are all these people in the pictures?
You've never told me about any of them except the little round
one that you wear in your pocket. Who are they?"

Instead of answering, the man turned faraway eyes on the boy and
smiled wistfully.

"Ah, David, lad, how they'll love you! How they will love you!
But you mustn't let them spoil you, son. You must
remember--remember all I've told you."

Once again David asked his question, but this time the man only
turned back to the photograph, muttering something the boy could
not understand.

After that David did not question any more. He was too amazed,
too distressed. He had never before seen his father like this.