youth and then answered with a slightly haughty note in his courteous
voice, albeit a quiver of amusement on his lip:

"That is my daughter."

Laurence Shafton dropped the curtain and turned to stare at his host,
but the minister had closed the door and was already on his way to
church. Then the youth pulled back the curtain again and regarded the
lady. The man's daughter! And playing like that!

The rich notes of the organ were rolling out into the summer day, a
wonderful theme from an old master, grandly played. Yes, she could
play. She had been well taught. And the looks of her! She was wonderful
at this distance. Were these then wealthy people perhaps summering in
this quiet resort? He glanced about at the simple furnishings. That was
a good rug at his feet, worn in places, but soft in tone and
unmistakably of the Orient. The desk was of fumed oak, somewhat massive
and dignified with a touch of hand carving. The chairs were of the same
dark oak with leather cushions, and the couch so covered by his bed
drapery that he could not see it, but he remembered its comfort. There
was nothing showy or expensive looking but everything simple and good.
One or two fine old pictures on the wall gave evidence of good taste.
The only luxury seemed books, rows and rows of them behind glass doors
in cases built into the wall. They lined each space between windows and
doors, and in several spots reached to the ceiling. He decided that
these people must have had money and lost it. These things were old and
had perhaps been inherited. But the girl! She teased his curiosity. She
seemed of a type entirely new, and most attractive. Well, here was good
luck again! He would stay till church was out and see what she might be
like at nearer view. It might amuse him to play the invalid for a day