was copying. She glanced up as the door opened and pushed up the green
shade, looking out from under it inquiringly. She peered a moment and
then sprang up, thrusting aside the shade with a quick turn. "I am so
glad you've come." She crossed the room, holding out her hands. There
was something clear and fresh in the motion--like a free creature, out
of doors.

Uncle William stood smiling at her. "How do you know it's me?" he said.

The girl laughed quietly. "There couldn't be two." Her voice had a
running, musical quality, with deep notes in it and a little accent that
caught at the words, tripping them lightly. She had taken his hands with
a swift movement and was holding them, looking at him earnestly. "You
are just as he said," she nodded.

Uncle William returned the look. The upturned face flushed a little,
but it did not fall. He put out his hand and touched it. "Some like a
flower," he said, "as near as I can make out--in the dark." He looked
about the huge, bare room, with its single flame shining on the page.

She moved away and lighted a gas-jet on the wall, and then another. She
faced about, smiling. "Will that do?"

Uncle William nodded. "I like a considabul light," he said.

"Yes." She drew forward a chair. "Sit down."

She folded her hands lightly, still scanning him. Uncle William settled
his frame in the big chair. His glance traveled about the room. The two
gas-jets flared at dark corners. A piano emerged mistily. Music-racks