where nobody ever could find it?" Thus spoke the boys. Then Aunt Ellen:
"A sea-captain like my father—knowing his life was in peril every time he sailed—to conceal an important document. It seems unbelievable, Mr. Bolliver."
Mr. Bolliver had been gazing out the window, past the cool vines that swung down from the cornice of the portico. He turned back now and folded the papers slowly.
"But he didn't want any one to find it," he said quietly.
"No," said Jane, whose eyes had not once left his face.
Mr. Bolliver looked down at her suddenly.
"You understand it, do you?" he asked. "You would; you've been living back there, in the spirit, haven't you?" He glanced at the aunts, erect and uncomprehending. "It was a sort of debt of honor, you see," he went on. "I don't know very well how to make you feel it all. I've lived there. I've seen things. None of it was a thing he could come back to gray Resthaven and tell his wife about. She wouldn't have understood, either. It was a reckless thing—the sort of thing you
