"Well," said the officer, smiling, "go right in."

Squire started to follow.

"No; you wait outside. Two at once might make him a little nervous. He has been a very sick man."

Roberta crept softly in on tiptoe. The room was darkened, and there was no light save the reflection of the fire. Colonel Marsden was, in health, a superbly handsome man. But, as he lay there in the dim light, emaciated and pallid, there was something almost touching in the droop of his shoulders and the look of helpless weakness about the mouth. It was not long before he stirred uneasily and opened his eyes. His gaze fell directly on the child sitting beside him and looking at him with her whole heart in her eyes.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"I am Roberta Marsden. My papa's name is Robert, and my mamma called me Roberta after him."

"My Papa's name was Robert, and my Mamma named me Roberta, after him."

[View Illustration Enlarged]

He raised himself upon one elbow. A flush burned in his cheeks. It was like a flame through alabaster.