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country was charming, and Uncle Markham so friendly and so easy to talk to. He asked innumerable questions, and it was trying to have to go through another long account of her reasons for leaving England, but he was very nice about it, and if he thought her a romantic schoolgirl, refrained from saying so.

“We shall keep you for some time now we’ve got you,” he told her. “I think we can make you happy. You do like the country, you say, and if you care for riding, we can find you a horse. It’s quiet, you know—not many near neighbours, but you and I will have plenty to talk about. And then there’s Alick?”

“Alick?”

“Alick Power, my first wife’s son. She was a widow, you know. You won’t have to depend only on an old fogey of an uncle. Alick’s under thirty, and—oh, you’ll get on with Alick!”

Pamela hoped so. She could not remember ever having heard of this stepson, but it was obvious that Uncle Markham was tremendously fond and proud of him. “Oh, you’ll get on with Alick!”—he was very confident of that, and Pamela’s spirits rose, for evidently she was not to depend on her aunt for companionship.

They talked on cheerfully. Uncle Markham could get on very well without his English relations, but he was curious about them all, and Pamela could supply a good deal of information.

“I don’t suppose I’ll ever go back, child. I’ve got my roots in here now. It’s a beautiful place—look at it! And they’ve all practically cut me off, you know. Oh, yes, they have! Bless you, child, it doesn’t hurt my feelings. They do very well without me and I do very well without them. That’s natural enough. But I’d like old Roger to come over and see me. Good plan to get him to come and bring you home when you have to go, eh? Think he’d do it?