And across one corner of the picture was inscribed in a bold hand: "Chandos, of Charne."
Verona took the picture in her hand and considered it attentively.
Her grandfather! What a contrast was presented by this aristocratic English magnate to her grandmother in the Dufta!
"I have never shown it before," resumed her father in a tremulous tone, "so do not say anything about it. But you have been at home—you are a Chandos—you understand. I think, my dear," and his voice broke a little, "we shall have many things in common. I am thankful that you came; already you have done good to Nicky and Pussy and me." He paused abruptly and stood in a listening attitude.
Yes, there was a sound of wheels! The victoria had returned from its daily round and common task.
Presently a shrill voice came pealing down the verandah.
"Verona, Verona! Now where is that girl?"
"There, there, my dear, you had better go," urged her father nervously; "you will come again soon." As she turned to leave the room she met her mother face to face in the doorway.
"Oh, ho!" she cried, "so you have found your way here? I have seen Mrs. Lepell; she says she wants you and Pussy to go to tea to-morrow. I can't think what she is up to!"