Charlotte raised her head to shake it vigorously.  “Offer work in such shape as that?  I’m not such a goose.”

“Got to do them all over?”

Her head sank again.  “If I can get the courage.”

“Of course you can,” declared Jeff, more cheerfully.  “You never lack pluck.  Poor girl, I’m mighty sorry, though.  It’s simply tough to have it happen at the last minute.  You’re all tired out, too—­I know you are; you ought never to have to do it all over again.”

“If I could just have shown them to Mr. Murdock,” said Charlotte, heavily, “and have found out that it was the sort of thing they would like, it wouldn’t seem so hard to do them all over again.  But to work for weeks more—­and then perhaps have it a failure, after all——­”

“I know.  Well, I’ve got to be off, or I’ll be late.  Mid-term exams this week.  Cheer up, Fiddle, maybe you can fix ’em up easier than you think.”

Late in the afternoon Charlotte came to her uncle for the baby.  He had cared for her all day.

“She’s safe with you now?” he asked, with a keen look up into her quiet face.

“I hope so.”  Charlotte’s cheek was against the little head; she held the baby tenderly.

“When she is in bed to-night will you come and tell me what she did?”

Charlotte shook her head, with a faint smile.  “She wasn’t to blame.  I left her alone for ten minutes.”

“But I should like to know about it,” he said, coaxingly.  “I have had rather a busy day with Ellen-baby—­why not reward me with your confidence?”

But she would not promise; neither did she come.  This was exceedingly characteristic of the girl, but Captain Rayburn, his sharp eyes observing in her aspect the signs of misery in spite of a brave attempt to seem cheerful, made up his mind to find out for himself.  Twice he encountered her coming down from the attic, and each time she avoided speaking to him.

That night, after everybody was in bed, Captain Rayburn, his canes held under his arm, crept slowly up-stairs, a little electric candle of his own in his pocket.  By means of this he soon discovered Charlotte’s ruined work, which she had not yet found heart to remove from the place where she had first laid it, trusting to the privacy of a place which was seldom invaded by anybody.

He sat down on a convenient box and studied the coloured plates and sketches.  As he looked, his lips drew into a whistle of surprise and admiration, followed by a long breath of pity for what he was sure he understood.

Jeff, having just dropped off into the sound sleep of the healthy boy, found himself gently punched into wakefulness.

“Come to, Jeff, and tell me what I want to know,” said Captain Rayburn, smiling at his nephew in the dim white light from the candle.  Jeff raised himself on his pillow.

“Wh-what’s up?” he grunted, blinking like an owl.

“Nothing serious.  What was Charlotte going to do with her colour drawings?  Show them to some wall-paper manufacturers?”