creditors. I should think they're about paid off by now.'
'Has he a little girl?' asked Phyllis.
'Yes—I believe so,' said father absently.
'It's very odd,' Mabel was beginning, but the others silenced her.
After this the children were more interested than ever in Sir Christopher. They used to paint illuminated texts, and make picture-frames of paper rosettes, and buy toys, and leave them on his door-step in the dark, 'For the little girl,' and as the spring came on, bunches of flowers.
It was one evening when Phyllis came to the castle with a big bunch of plumy purple lilac. She was earlier than usual, and it was not quite dark, and—wonder of wonders—the door of the castle was open. Still more wonderful, Sir Christopher stood on the doorstep.
'I was watching for you,' he said. 'I had a sort of feeling you'd come to-night. Will you come in?'
He led her into the black marble room and stood looking wistfully at her.
'Would you like to see my little girl?' he said suddenly.
'Yes,' said Phyllis.
