Beautiful Dreamy Hollow, peaceful, charming—with the master always on hand. No longer in business he lived in a dreamland and never looked out except toward the sea. Alone, he lived in silence, with only the future state in mind. Alone!—not just that—for way up in the skies a sweet soul was waiting and beckoning to him. He could see her quite plainly as the veil lifted at night, and also, whenever he looked this way or that—those were terrible blows that the mad Parkins dealt! Only the strong of heart could have survived them and turned them to account—but Drury Villard, once the farseeing financier, only looked at the heavens and bided his time. Things earthly were now forgotten, and old friends forsaken, not with malice aforethought, but because of a tiny link missing—the mischief of a dreadful night.

To talk with himself was no trouble at all, but to sit and laugh at his own jokes when no one seemed near lent a pathos to those who chanced to look on. But the Winifred of his first love heard him, and evidently applauded, for when unduly excited he ran to the window and clapped both his hands—then called out her name! Just why Mrs. Bond should cry and run out of his presence was a mystery to him. And Santzi, wide-eyed, when he took the master to drive, sometimes felt compelled to signal Jacques to turn back. To avoid passers-by the woods road were used, but the birds seemed to know that a friend was out riding. The blue jays shouted at him and he shouted back, as near in their language as he could imitate.

Then one day came a great specialist from over the ocean. A cable to Updyke told the date of his sailing, and when the big liner warped in at her Hoboken dock, he was on hand to welcome, and took the expert in charge. A few days went by before arrangements were ready, and certain experts engaged to help on the case. It was quite a big party that trailed the Updyke machine down from the city. Among them several nurses—one of them Winifred—with Carver's consent—for hers was the one name that Villard seemed to remember—so Carver himself came along as her escort.

Of course Winifred had nothing to do with the others, or the lances and things—but she was there all in white, as the patient came to, and she was the first person he knew when he opened his eyes. There she was in the life, all smiles, with her husband, and Villard smiled at him, too.

"I—thought you had—all deserted me," said he weakly, but Winifred put a finger over his blue lips, and whispered——

"Don't talk, Uncle Drury—just rest—that's a dear. We're not going to leave you until you are strong and well! There now, close your dear eyes and go back to rest. We'll—not leave you—go back to sleep—back to dreamland—you'll soon be——" And with a smile on his lips Villard lapsed into slumber.

As the great surgeon looked on, a smile lighted his face, and with actual tears in his eyes he grasped Winifred's hand. He had risked his reputation in coming to "far-off America" on such a hopeless case. And to win!——

"Most wonderful!" said he. "There's nothing that answers the call of returning reason as the voice of a sweet woman," he concluded, as he again grasped her hand, and this time squeezed it hard.

Then to George Carver he said: "You're the right kind, young man. You'll go far in the world."

In less than a week Villard sat out in the sunshine, with light blankets about him, and Winifred near. She read to him, sang to him, laughed at him, called him a bear, and teased him for trying to live alone.

"If you and George move down here and live with me, I'll will to you both, in common, a cold million dollars," said Villard eagerly.

"And me leave my dear little white cottage! Oh, how could you dare to tempt me, Uncle Drury!" she exclaimed, with a laugh.

"I mean it, little woman," said Villard, very soberly.

"Well, don't tell George that, please. He likes you now, and it might turn him against you. Don't you see, dear man, he wants to make his own way in the world!"

"He is right, little woman, and you are going to help him, more than he will know," replied Villard, with enthusiasm.

"Well, if you just knew all about it, you'd think differently. He is so active, and so kindly, that he often steals out of his bed and cooks his own breakfast rather than awaken old lazy bones—that's me," laughed Winifred.

"It won't hurt him, and it shows his affection. He'll rise in the world—all good husbands do."

And so ran the days by until Villard, in sheer pity for Carver's young bride, sent her away in his car to the home that she loved. Then back to his old haunts he went straightway—to the window where the open sea came into view. From that point of vantage, somehow, he heard the voice of his old love, bidding him come—and with a prayer in his heart he lay back and died.

When Updyke came down to take charge of affairs, a letter was handed to him by the weeping housekeeper—Mrs. Bond's heart seemed broken!

"Don't cry," said he gently. "He's happier now than he would be on earth. There's a reason that's sacred, but you may take it from me that for years he has waited impatiently for his time to go."

Seated in a deep leather chair Updyke opened the letter. It was short and to the point. It read:

Dear Henry: My will is in the Bankers Deposit Company vault room. The enclosed release is made out in your name. You will find instructions along with the will—your name is entered as trustee, without bond.

As ever, faithfully,
Drury Villard.

And so passed from earth a man of big soul, whose wealth had not spoiled him, nor brought much joy. As trustee, Updyke soon fathomed the great heart of the man. Not one person having the least lien upon his generosity was omitted from his will. Only within the past month had Parkins' name been stricken from it—just scratched with a pen, and initialed D. V.—without giving reasons.

Each servant came in for a good start in life. Dreamy Hollow was to be turned into a home for aged and infirm nurses. His business was to be divided equally between his old partners to the extent of his holdings—three-fourths of the whole. Of the individuals mentioned Updyke came first—he to have twenty thousand a year for ten years while settling the estate, and to Sawyer his watch and an annuity of five thousand a year if any misfortune should ever befall him. To Updyke's wife Mary, in token of her faithful attention to his affairs as they related to the Updyke Agency—twenty thousand dollars in cash. And last, but not least, was his legacy to Winifred Barbour Carver, "share and share alike with her good husband, George"—one hundred thousand dollars—"and an additional sum of fifty thousand to their first offspring."

"In further acknowledgment of my high regard for the Carver family I hereby appoint Mrs. Winifred Carver chairman of the board of directors of Dreamy Hollow Home for Aged and Infirm Nurses."

"And through the veil to the great unknown,

Sped the soul of an upright man."

So wrote the girl, Winifred, as an epitaph for the tomb of Drury Villard.