"I've always meant to tell you--a good deal," remarked
Ransford, after another pause. "You see, I can scarcely--yet
--realize that you're both growing up! You were at school a
year ago. And Dick is still very young. Are--are you more
satisfied now?" he went on anxiously. "If not--"

"I'm quite satisfied," she answered. "Perhaps--some day
--you'll tell me more about our father and mother?--but never
mind even that now. You're sure you haven't minded my asking
--what I have asked?"

"Of course not--of course not!" he said hastily. "I ought to
have remembered. And--but we'll talk again. I must get into
the surgery--and have a word with Bryce, too."

"If you could only make him see reason and promise not to
offend again," she said. "Wouldn't that solve the
difficulty?"

Ransford shook his head and made no answer. He picked up his
letters again and went out, and down a long stone-walled
passage which led to his surgery at the side of the house. He
was alone there when he had shut the door--and he relieved his
feelings with a deep groan.

"Heaven help me if the lad ever insists on the real truth and
on having proofs and facts given to him!" he muttered. "I
shouldn't mind telling her, when she's a bit older--but he
wouldn't understand as she would. Anyway, thank God I can