mingled with the sturdy, unfailing green of the conebearers. He
was a tall, bent man, with thin, gray hair, a lined face, and
deeply-set, gentle brown eyes--the eyes of one who, looking
through pain, sees rapture beyond.

He felt very happy. He loved his family clannishly, and he was
rejoiced that they were all again near to him. He was proud of
their success and fame. He was glad that James had prospered so
well of late years. There was no canker of envy or discontent in
his soul.

He heard absently indistinct voices at the open hall window above
the porch, where Aunt Isabel was talking to Kathleen Bell.
Presently Aunt Isabel moved nearer to the window, and her words
came down to Robert with startling clearness.

"Yes, I can assure you, Miss Bell, that I'm real proud of my
nephews and nieces. They're a smart family. They've almost all
done well, and they hadn't any of them much to begin with. Ralph
had absolutely nothing and to-day he is a millionaire. Their
father met with so many losses, what with his ill-health and the
bank failing, that he couldn't help them any. But they've all
succeeded, except poor Robert--and I must admit that he's a total
failure."

"Oh, no, no," said the little teacher deprecatingly.

"A total failure!" Aunt Isabel repeated her words emphatically.
She was not going to be contradicted by anybody, least of all a
Bell from Avonlea. "He has been a failure since the time he was