“Hush,” returned Julia, “you’re disturbing father’s muse.”

But Mr. Evringham’s ideas, whatever they were, seemed to be at hand.  He settled back in his chair, his elbows on the arms and his finger-tips touching.  All his audience immediately gave attention.  Even Anna Belle had a chair all to herself and fixed an inspiring gaze on the broker.  It was to be hoped that her pride kept her cool, for, in spite of the quiet warmth of the September evening, she was enveloped in her new furs, with her hands tucked luxuriously in the large muff.

“Once upon a time,” began Mr. Evringham, “there was an old man.  No one had ever told him that it was error to grow old and infirm, and he sometimes felt about ninety, although he was rather younger.  He lived in the Valley of Vain Regret.  The climate of that region has a bad effect on the heart, and his had shriveled up until it was quite small and mean, and hard and cold, at that.

“The old man wasn’t poor; he lived in a splendid castle and had plenty of servants to wait on him; but he was the loneliest of creatures.  He wanted to be lonely.  He didn’t like anybody, and all he asked of people was that they stay away from him and only speak to him when he spoke to them, which wasn’t very often, I assure you.  You can easily see that people were willing to stay away from a cross-grained person like that.  Everybody in the neighborhood was afraid of him.  They shivered when he came near, and ran off to get into the sunshine; so he was used to seeing visitors pass by the fine grounds of his castle with only a scared glance or two in that direction, and he wished it to be so.  But he was very unhappy all the same.  His dried-up heart gave him much discomfort, and then once he had read an old parchment that told of a far different land from Vain Regret.  In that country was the Castle of True Delight, and many an hour the man spent in restless longing to know how he might find it; for—­so he read—­if a person could once pass within the portals of that palace, he would never again know sorrow or discontent, but one happy day would follow another in endless variety and satisfaction.

“Many a time the man mounted on a spirited horse and rode forth in search of this castle, and many different paths he took; but every night he came home discouraged, for no sign could he find of any hope or cheer in the whole Valley of Vain Regret, and it seemed to him to hold him like a prisoner.

“One day as he was strolling on the terrace before the castle, in bitter thought, a strange sight met his eyes.  A little girl pushed open the great iron gates which he had thought were locked, and walked toward him.  For a minute he was too much amazed at such daring to speak, and the little girl came forward, smiling as she caught his look.  She had dark eyes and her brown hair curled in her neck.  Most people would have remarked her sweet expression; but the old man turned fierce at sight of her.