Your grandfather was fifty when I was born, and he didn't die till I was fifty." His face shadowed; Adelaide, glancing round for the cause, saw Simeon, half-sitting, half-standing in the doorway, humble apology on his weazened, whiskered face.

He looked so like her memory-picture of her grandfather that she burst out laughing.

"Don't be hard on the poor old gentleman, father," she cried.

"How can you resist that appeal?
Tell him to come in and make himself at home." As her father did not answer, she glanced at him.

He had not heard her; he was staring straight ahead with an expression of fathomless melancholy.