"Give me another bit of cloth and a nail, Piers," she called to her brother.
The tap of Piers' crutches was heard in the hall as he went to do her bidding.
As she stood in the sunshine, with her arm raised to secure the truant branch of the trailing rose, waiting for her brother to bring the nail, a figure cast a shadow against the porch, and, turning her head, she saw a gentleman standing near her. Instantly she dropped the branch, and, with a bright colour in her cheek, waited till the stranger spoke.
"Miss Falconer, I think?" he said, his eyes fastening upon her fair young face.
"Yes," she said, simply. "Do you want to see my mother?"
"Nay," he said, "I came to see you. I have heard much of you; I am your brother's friend."
Joyce looked inquiringly at her visitor, and said, with a little quiver in her voice:
"I hope, sir, you have brought no ill news. We have had so much sorrow of late."
"I know it, indeed," the gentleman said. "I bring no bad news of your brother's health; he is abroad, I think."
"Yes, at Genoa; he was at Genoa when we heard last; we have not heard from him since our father's death."