Stafford, Got everything
ready for him, I hope?--and here, next door almost, is Mr. Howard's.
This is a snuggery in between--keep your books and guns and
fishing-rods in it, don't you know. Mr. Howard, you play, I think?
There's a piano, Hope you'll like the view. Full south, with nothing
between you and the lake. I'm not far off. See? Just opposite, You may
find the rooms too hot, Stafford--Mr. Howard--and we'll change 'em, of
course. Don't hurry: hope you'll find everything you want!"
He laid his hand on Stafford's shoulder and nodded at him with frank
affection, before he went, and as he closed the door they heard him say
to some one below:
"Don't serve the dinner till Mr. Stafford comes down!"
Stafford went to the window, and Howard stood in silence beside him for
a moment, then he said--Measom had left the room:
"I congratulate you, Staff! In sackcloth and ashes, I confess I thought
that kind of father only existed in women's books and emotional plays."
Stafford nodded.
"He's--he's kindness itself," he said, in a very low voice and not
turning his head. "I didn't know that he was like--this.
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