Mr. and Mrs. Dinsmoreand Mrs. Travilla reached Philadelphia safely, without accident or detention, spent a few days with their relatives there, then, being urgently invited to pay a visit to the family of their cousin Donald Keith—the brother of our old friend Mildred, wife of Dr. Landreth, of Pleasant Plains, and father of Mary Keith, with whom Edward and Violet spent some time in a cottage at Ocean Beach in the summer after the death of their father—they did so.
About six years had passed since then. Some of Mary’s younger brothers and sisters had grown up and married, so that her burdens were much lightened, but she herself was still single and at home in her father’s house.
Time seemed to have stood still with her. They found her the same bright, cheery girl, looking scarcely older than she had looked six years ago.
She was delighted to see again these relatives whom she had met and learned to love during that ever-to-be-remembered summer in the cottageby the sea, and very glad to hear all they had to tell of the cousins who had helped to make enjoyable her effort at housekeeping then and there. She had many questions to ask about them and the little ones, and expressed an ardent desire to see them all again, to which her cousin Elsie replied: “We are expecting to return home in a fortnight, or a little sooner, and will be glad to take you with us if you will go, Mary; will you not, dear girl?”
“Cousin Elsie, how very kind in you!” exclaimed Mary, both tone and look full of delight. “But,” she added with a doubtful glance at her mother, “I fear I could hardly be spared from home.”
“Now don’t be so conceited, Mary Keith,” laughed that lady, with a mischievous glance into the flushed, eager face of her eldest daughter. “I think I am quite capable of keeping house and attending to all family affairs without a particle of aid from you. So if Cousin Elsie wants you and you want to go, I advise you to set to work at once at your preparations—putting your wardrobe in perfect order and adding to it whatever may be needed. Oh, you needn’t look doubtful and troubled! Your father has been greatly prospered of late, and I know will not feel any necessity or inclination to deny anything desirable to the good daughter whohas been a very great help and comfort to him and me through years of toil and struggle.”
Mary was affected even to tears. “O mother, how good and kind in you to say all that!” she faltered. “I have done no more than my duty—hardly even so much, I fear.”
“Possibly your father and I may be as capable of judging of that as yourself,” returned Mrs. Keith in the same tone of careless gayety she had used before; “and we think—for we were talking the matter over only the other day—that our eldest daughter deserves and needs some weeks of recreation this summer. We were discussing the comparative merits of sea and mountain air, but finally decided to leave the selection to yourself; and now doubtless Cousin Elsie’s kind invitation will decide you in favor of a trip to the South, even in spite of its climate being less suitable for the warm weather than our own.”
“It will be a change for her, at all events,” Elsie said, “and when we come North again, as we expect to do in a few weeks, we may, I think, hope to return her to you rested and invigorated. Or, still better, we will hope to take her, with your consent, with us to the sea-shore for a good rest there before returning her to you.”
Mrs. Keith and Mary returned warm thanks for this second invitation, but it was not atthat time definitely settled whether or not it could or would be finally accepted.
“Ah, mother dear, I see now why you insisted this spring on my buying and having made up more and handsomer dresses than ever I had in one season before,” Mary said presently with an affectionate look and smile into Mrs. Keith’s pleasant and still comely face.
“Yes, it is always wise to be ready for sudden emergencies,” returned the mother playfully, “and I think you can easily be ready for a visit to Ion by the time Cousin Elsie will be on her way home from Princeton.”
“Our plan is to start for home in about a week,” Elsie said, “as the commencement will be over by that time, and my boys, Harold and Herbert, ready to accompany us.”
“You are making us a very short visit, Cousin Elsie,” remarked Mrs. Keith. “I hope when you come up North again you will piece it out with a much longer one.”
“Thank you,” returned Elsie. “I should enjoy doing so, and perhaps may be able to; but our plans for the season are not arranged.”
Then turning to Mary, “Our party is to pass through Philadelphia on our return after the commencement. Can you not arrange to meet us there so that we may travel the rest of the way to Ion in company?”
“I think so,” was the reply. “Can I not, mamma?”
“I see nothing to prevent,” said her mother. “We will have you there in season if our cousins will let us know what train you are to meet.”
Mr. Dinsmore came in at that moment, and with his good help the arrangements were presently satisfactorily completed.
To the great delight of Harold and Herbert, their grandfather and mother arrived safely in Princeton on the evening of the day before commencement.
The young men, though looking somewhat overworked, yet seemed in good health and good spirits. They had passed successfully through their examination and the next day were graduated with high honors.
Both grandfather and mother showed by their looks, manner, and words of commendation and congratulation that they were highly gratified and not a little proud of their bright, intelligent, industrious lads.
“And now, my sons, I suppose you are quite ready for home?” their grandfather said when the congratulations were over.
“Almost ready to start for it, grandpa,” Harold replied with a joyous laugh. Then turning to his mother, “Mamma, I have a requestto make, and I do not think you or grandpa will object to its being granted.”
“Not if it is anything reasonable, my dear boy,” she returned. “Are you desirous to invite some friend to accompany us to Ion?”
“Ah, mother mine,” he laughed, “you certainly are good at guessing. Yes, I should like to give a warm invitation from grandpa, you, and ourselves to a classmate whose home is closed at present, his parents being in Europe for the health of his mother, who is a sad invalid. William Croly is his name—Will we call him—and he is as good, bright, and lovable a fellow as could be found anywhere.”
“He is indeed, mamma,” said Herbert. “I esteem him as highly as Harold does.”
“Then I think he will be a very welcome guest at Ion,” Mrs. Travilla returned with a look of inquiry at her father, as if she would consult his wishes as well as her own and those of her sons.
“I should ask him by all means,” said Mr. Dinsmore. “I judge from the recommendation just given that he will prove a pleasant guest; besides, the Bible bids us ‘use hospitality without grudging.’”
“And that is one thing I am sure you and mother love to do, grandpa,” returned Herbert, giving a look of affectionate admiration to first one, then the other.
“Yes, it is a great pleasure, therefore hardly meritorious,” his grandfather said with a smile.
“Then I may bring Croly and introduce him, may I not?” asked Harold.
A ready assent was given in reply. Harold hurried away and presently returned, bringing with him a young man who had a very pleasant, bright face and refined, gentlemanly manners.
Mr. Dinsmore and his daughter gave him a pleasant greeting and kindly shake of the hand as Harold introduced him, and after a little a cordial invitation to accompany them on their return to Ion and remain until they should all come North again for the summer.
Croly was evidently delighted with the invitation, and it did not take much urging to induce him to accept it.
That evening they all journeyed to Philadelphia, where they were joined by Mrs. Dinsmore and Mary Keith, and the next morning the whole party started southward, a pleasant, jovial company.
They met with no accident or detention, and were greeted with the warmest of welcomes on their arrival at Ion at an early hour on the second day.
They took some hours of rest and sleep, then were able to enjoy the family gathering which had been planned by Elsie’s sons and daughtersto celebrate the safe return of their loved mother and grandparents from their visit to the North and the home-coming of the young graduates.
The children and young people were included in the invitation, and not a single one failed to be present. From Woodburn, the Oaks, Pinegrove, Roselands, the Laurels, and Fairview they came, forming of themselves alone a goodly company, full of mirth and jollity, which was in no way checked by any of their elders, with whom they remained for a time, hanging about those who had been absent from home, particularly Grandma Elsie, and next to her the young uncles, who had been away so long that they seemed almost as strangers to the very little ones; pleasant and attractive strangers, however, inclined to make much of their little nieces and nephews, a business in which their college friend, Will Croly, took an active part.
Almost every one presently forsook the rooms and verandas to sit beneath the trees or wander here and there about the beautiful, well-kept grounds, visiting the gardens, hot-houses, and the lovely little lakelet.
A handsome rowboat was there and the young men invited the older girls to take a row around the pretty little sheet of water. Marian McAlpine, Evelyn Leland, Rosie Travilla, and the twoDinsmore girls from the Oaks accepted, but Lulu Raymond, who was with them, regretfully declined, saying she knew papa would be displeased if she went without his knowledge and consent.
“Why, Lu, you are growing remarkably good and obedient,” laughed Sidney Dinsmore.
“For which we should all honor her,” said Harold. “The captain is one of the best and kindest of fathers and his requirements are never unreasonable.”
“Oh, of course not,” laughed Sidney; “only I’m glad he hasn’t the care of me and control of my actions.”
“I’m glad that he has of me and mine,” returned Lulu rather hotly as the boat pushed out into the water, leaving her standing alone on the shore gazing wistfully after it. “How delightful it looks,” she sighed to herself. “I wish I had thought of the possibility of such an invitation and got papa’s permission beforehand.”
“You did right, little girl, and I am very sure that when your papa hears of it he will commend you in a way that will give you far more pleasure than the row could have done if taken without his permission,” said a voice from behind her, and turning to look for the speaker, she found Mr. Lilburn close at hand.
“Thank you, sir,” she replied with a pleasant smile. “I wanted badly to go, yet I know I couldn’t have enjoyed it without papa’s permission.”
“I should hope not indeed,” returned the old gentleman.
“Oh, Mr. Lilburn,” cried Lulu, struck with a sudden thought, “there are several in our company here this afternoon who know nothing of your ventriloquial powers. Can’t you think of some way of using them that will puzzle the strangers and furnish amusement for us all?”
“Suppose we consider that question—you and I,” he returned with a smile. “Have you any suggestion to make?”
“How would it do to make them hear trumpets or bugles or something of that kind in the woods near by, as you did to the Ku Klux years ago?” she asked in eager tones, adding: “Grandma Elsie has told us the story of their attack on this place when Mamma Vi was quite a little girl.”
“Ah, yes, I remember,” he said with a slight smile. “Let us sit down here,” leading her to a rustic seat near at hand, “and I will see what I can do to excite the curiosity of the strangers.”
“Oh, I’m glad now I was left behind!” Lulu exclaimed as she took the offered seat and turned an excited, expectant face toward her companion.
For a minute or more he seemed buried in thought, then suddenly the clear notes of a bugle seemed to come from behind a clump of trees a few rods distant from where they sat.
Lulu was startled for an instant and turned in that direction, half expecting to catch a glimpse of the bugler. Then she laughed and clapped her hands softly.
“Oh, that’s lovely!” she said. “They’ll be sure there’s somebody there and wonder who it can be. Yes, see how they are turning their heads in that direction.”
“Can you see the expression o’ ony o’ their countenances, bit lassie? I canna, for my eyes are growing old.”
“Yes, sir. I can see that Miss Keith looks startled and astonished and seems to be questioning Uncle Harold, and that Mr. Croly is laughing and trying his best to catch a peep at the trumpeter. The others I think look as if they are trying to keep from laughing. I dare say they see you here, sir, and can guess what it means. Oh, there’s our Prince! He seems to be in search of the trumpeter.”
Even as Lulu spoke she was startled by another bugle-blast seemingly directly behind them, or from the branches of the tree under which they sat.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, turning quickly tolook behind her; then with a merry laugh, “I wasn’t expecting your bugler to come so very near, sir.”
But the concluding words were almost drowned in Prince’s loud bark as he came bounding toward them, evidently in search of the intruding bugler.
“Find him, Prince, find him as fast as you can and teach him not to intrude into the Ion grounds,” laughed Lulu.
But the bugler’s notes had already died away and Prince’s bark changed to a low growl as he searched for him here and there, but vainly.
“So you have a bugler on the estate, eh?” Croly was saying, with an inquiring glance at Harold. “One of your darkies, I presume? They are a musical race, I know.”
“They are,” Harold replied with unmoved countenance.
“I thought the notes musical and pleasant,” observed Miss Keith, “but they do not seem to have taken the fancy of your dog.”
“Prince—a fine fellow, by the way—is not our dog, but belongs to Max Raymond,” said Herbert. “No, he does not seem to fancy the intruder, whoever he may be.”
“Hark!” cried Rosie, “the bugler is at it again.”
“And this time it is a Scotch air,” remarkedMary Keith. “How soft and sweet it sounds! But it comes from quite another quarter; yet I do not know how the bugler can have changed his position so entirely without any of us catching sight of him as he went.”
“It does seem odd,” said Croly. But his words were nearly drowned in the loud bark of Prince as he rushed in the new direction, with evident intent to oust the intruder this time. His effort was, however, as complete a failure as the former one. The notes of the bugle died softly away, the dog sniffed about the tree from which they had seemed to come, but finally gave it up and trotted away in the direction of the house. “Point out that bugler to me when we come across him, won’t you, Harold?”
“Really I never knew that we had a bugler among our servants,” returned Harold evasively.
“Nor I,” said Herbert. “But,” taking out his watch, “it is nearing tea-time, and as we are likely to find plenty of opportunities for this kind of sport, I think we had better now return to the house.”
No one objected, the boat was immediately headed for the wharf, and all had presently landed and were sauntering along by the way that they had come, Mr. Lilburn and Lulu accompanying them.
“Whatin the world has become of that bugler?” queried Croly, peering among the trees and shrubs.
“Were you wanting to speak to him, Mr. Croly?” asked Rosie, gravely but with some difficulty restraining a desire to laugh.
“No, not particularly, but I have a slight curiosity to see him and ask for another specimen or so of his skill.”
“He seems to be skilful in making his disappearance, doesn’t he?” laughed Rosie.
“He does, and I suppose I shall have to give up the hope of making his acquaintance,” returned Croly. “But it is really singular that no one of us has been able to get sight of him.”
“It is indeed,” assented Mary Keith. “I have been watching closely, but without obtaining so much as a glimpse of him.”
“Well, cousin, don’t despair; perhaps it will be better luck next time,” Herbert said laughingly. “Ah, we are just in time, for I see they are setting the tables beneath the trees.”
“Oh, that’s good,” cried Lulu. “I think itis such good fun to eat out of doors.” Then aside to Mr. Lilburn, “O Cousin Ronald, can’t you do some of those things you did at Cousin Betty’s wedding? It would be such fun.”
“Wait and see, bit lassie,” the old gentleman returned with a smile.
Just then Walter came bounding to meet them. “I’m glad to see you,” he said half breathlessly. “I’ve been hunting all around for you, because tea is nearly ready and Zoe was afraid you might not be here in season.”
“Eh, laddie,” laughed his brother Herbert, “so you forgot, did you, that we had appetites and watches?—the first to remind us of our need of food, the second to tell us when it was likely to be served.”
“I thought it kinder to hunt you up than to trust to appetites and watches to bring you in good season to get everything at its best,” returned Walter good-humoredly.
Then stepping close to Mr. Lilburn’s side, he asked in an undertone, “Cousin Ronald, please won’t you make some of the same kind of fun for us that you did at Cousin Betty’s wedding?”
At that Mr. Lilburn laughed, saying: “Well, well, laddie, you and your niece here (you’re Lulu’s uncle, aren’t you?) seem to be of one mind in regard to that matter. We’ll see what can be done.”
“Walter’s niece!” laughed Lulu. “He’s younger than I am and would be a little uncle for me.”
“So I would,” laughed Walter in turn, “but if your father is my brother I suppose you must be my niece, and you’d better mind what I say to you.”
“I will—when it suits me,” she replied in merry retort.
They were now nearing that part of the lawn where they had left the older members of the party and the little ones.
“Ah, I am glad to see you,” said Zoe, coming forward to meet them, “for it is nearly time for the summons to tea.”
“Yes; we hope we have not kept you waiting?” returned several voices.
“Oh, no,” she replied cheerily, “you are just in good season. I heard your father inquiring where you were only a moment since, Lulu.”
“Oh, did you, Aunt Zoe? Well, I’ll tell him,” replied Lulu, hurrying away in his direction, for she could see him seated under a tree at some little distance, with Mr. and Mrs. Dinsmore, Grandma Elsie, Mamma Vi, and several others. Lulu stole up behind him, put her arms round his neck, and laid her cheek to his.
“Ah!” he said, taking hold of the small white hands, drawing her around in front ofhim, and seating her on his knee, “where has this eldest daughter of mine been for the last hour or so?”
“Down by the lake with the older ones, papa,” she replied, softly stroking his beard with one hand and smiling archly into the eyes gazing so fondly upon her. “I thought you were always willing that I should go about the grounds here without asking special permission.”
“Yes, so I am, provided you do not go on the water without my knowledge and consent.”
“I wanted to, but I didn’t,” was her reply. “You didn’t think I would, papa, when you had forbidden me?”
“Certainly not, daughter. It would be a sad thing indeed if I could not trust you out of my sight.”
Their conversation had been carried on in an undertone and the others were not listening, but chatting among themselves.
In the mean while Cousin Ronald had drawn Zoe aside and held a moment’s low-toned conversation with her, which seemed to interest and amuse her. Then Edward joined them, Zoe seemed to repeat to him what the old gentleman had said, Edward responded with a smile, then the three separated, and the young host and hostess—the mother having resigned to them her duties in that line for the evening—proceededto seat their guests at the tables, and servants appeared bearing the viands prepared for their entertainment.
Mary Keith, Marian McAlpine, and Will Croly were all three at one and the same table, Mr. Lilburn, Harold, Herbert, Rosie, and Evelyn Leland sharing it with them. The last two and the brothers exchanged furtive glances of amused expectancy. Mr. and Mrs. Dinsmore, Grandma Elsie, Walter, and the Raymonds occupied the next two; the rest of the company others not far distant.
Almost every one seemed in gay spirits and all were blessed with good appetites, the satisfying of which kept them very busy for a time, though not to the entire exclusion of mirthful chat and laughter.
But when the more substantial dishes had been duly discussed, carried away, and replaced by cakes, fruits, and ices, in a moment of comparative silence there came a sudden sound as of flapping of wings overhead, followed by a shrill call—
“Lu-lu! Polly wants a cake. It’s supper-time and Polly hungry.”
“Why, Polly, how did you get out and fly all the way here?” cried Lulu in astonishment, and looking up, as did almost every one else, among the branches overhead. “I didn’t thinkyou knew the way; and there is plenty for you to eat at home.”
“Lu-lu! where are you? Polly’s hungry. Polly wants a cup of coffee,” came in return in what seemed evidently Polly’s own shrill tones.
“Go home and get it, then,” laughed Lulu. “You weren’t invited here, and well-behaved people always wait to be asked before they go visiting.”
“Polly’s hungry. Poor old Polly—poor old soul!” came in response.
“Why, where is she?” queried Grace, peering up among the branches of the tree from which the sound seemed to come.
“I don’t know,” said Lulu. “I can’t just see her, but she has a good hiding-place up there where the branches and leaves are so thick. But how she found her way here I can’t think. Oh!” as she suddenly caught sight of Mr. Lilburn’s face and noted the twinkle of fun in his eye.
“Perhaps you have given her too much liberty, Lulu,” her father said in so grave a tone she was at loss to decide whether or not his suspicions too had been aroused.
“So you have a poll-parrot, Miss Lu? Quite a talker too,” said Croly. “I should like to make her acquaintance. Can you not tempt her to come down?”
“I’ll try to keep her at home after this, papa,” said Lulu; “but shall I see if I can coax her to come down now?”
“You may if you choose,” he answered with unmoved gravity.
“Tell her she can have a cup of coffee and anything else she wants if she will come,” added Grandma Elsie, with a look of amusement.
So Lulu called, “Polly, Polly, come here and you shall have a cup of the nicest coffee and anything else you want.”
Then for a minute or more everybody seemed to be looking and listening; but Polly neither answered nor showed herself, and at length baby Ned broke the silence with, “I ’spect Polly’s done ’way to our house adain. She won’t tum when Lu talls her.”
“She seems to have taken her departure very suddenly,” remarked Rosie. “Strange she should do so if she were really as hungry as she pretended.”
“I don’t b’lieve she was, Aunt Rosie,” said little Elsie, “for nobody ever gets starved at our house, ’cause papa always buys plenty for everybody to eat.”
“It’s good food too, and well cooked,” added Grace.
“I think that is all true, Mr. Croly, and Ihope you will come and see for yourself,” laughed Violet.
“Hush, hush, hush! you talk too much, Polly,” came in a shrill scream apparently from the top of the tree; then in a coaxing, complaining tone, “Poor Polly’s hungry! It’s breakfast-time. Polly wants a biscuit. Polly wants a cup of coffee.”
“Why, she’s quite a talker. I’d really like to get a sight of her,” said Croly, making a more determined effort than before to do so.
“Humph! savin’ all your pity for hungry birds! Never a bit of it to give a starvin’ human creeter,” snarled a man’s voice that seemed to come from a clump of bushes a yard or two in Croly’s rear. Every head at once turned in that direction, but the speaker seemed invisible.
It was Grandma Elsie who replied: “There is abundance of food here, and I would have no one starve or suffer at all from hunger. Step up to the table and your wants shall be supplied.”
“There is no empty seat at your table, ma’am,” snarled the voice.
“True,” she returned, “but there are abundance of seats near at hand, and you can carry your food to one of them when you have received it, and there sit and eat at your leisure.”
“Why, where on earth is the fellow?” askedCroly of Harold, speaking in an undertone. “I cannot catch so much as a glimpse of him.”
“It really looks very mysterious,” returned Harold, with difficulty repressing a smile. “What had better be done about it, do you think?”
“Surely that is for your mother to say,” returned Croly; “but if I were in her place I should have the grounds thoroughly searched for that impudent fellow, who is probably a thieving tramp.”
“Hardly, I think,” said Harold, “for they are somewhat scarce hereabouts; at least, we seldom see one.”
“Ah? then you are fortunate in that respect.”
“But how odd that both bird and man should be invisible!” exclaimed Mary Keith. “I must own that I cannot understand it.”
“No,” remarked Herbert gravely; “there are many things happening in this world that we cannot understand.”
“But it surprises me to see how easily you take all this. Now I should want to hunt him out and send him about his business before he does any mischief.”
“Perhaps that might be the better plan,” returned Harold. “Here, Prince,” as Max’s dog was seen slowly approaching, “hunt outthat fellow yonder,” pointing to the clump of bushes from which the voice had seemed to come. “Sick him! sick him!”
At that Prince pricked up his ears, wagged his tail, and rushed toward the bushes barking furiously; but only for a moment or two, evidently finding no one there. He came slowly back with lowered tail and drooping ears, plainly feeling that he had been sold, and mortified that he had fallen into the trap laid for his unwary feet.
“Poor fellow,” said Herbert, “that chap seems as hard to find as the bugler was a while ago; but never mind—you did your best.”
“Take him to the kitchen, Sam, and comfort him with a good dinner,” said Grandma Elsie to a servant.
“Well, Croly, what is it?” laughed Herbert. “You really look as if you had put on your thinking cap.”
“Yes, so I have,” returned Croly, glancing searchingly about, “and the conclusion I’ve reached is that we must have a ventriloquist among us. The next question is, who is he?”
“A ventriloquist!” exclaimed Mary Keith. “How delightful! Such fun as we shall have if that is really the case! But who can it be? You, captain?” looking searchingly at him.
“I should be very willing to plead guilty tothe charge could I do so truthfully, Cousin Mary,” he replied in a playful tone.
“Oh, no, I think it can hardly be the captain,” said Croly. “He was not down at the lake with us, and doubtless the invisible bugler was the ventriloquist, or the ventriloquist the bugler, whichever way you prefer to put it.”
“There! I dare say you are right,” she returned. “Now, Harold, it was you, wasn’t it? You may just as well own up first as last.”
“But really, Mary, I have nothing to own up to,” he said; “you are by no means on the right track.”
“Then who could it have been but you, Herbert?” she queried, turning laughing eyes upon him.
“I can truthfully aver that it was not I, Cousin Mary,” returned Herbert with grave earnestness, though there was a twinkle of fun in his eye that half convinced her he was in jest.
She wore a puzzled expression for a moment, then turning suddenly to Lulu, “I wonder now if it can have been you?” she said, giving the child a searching look.
“Oh, no, indeed, Miss Mary,” laughed Lulu. “I only wish I could say yes, for there’s nothing I’d like better than to be able to make such sport for myself and others.”
“But you know who it is?”
“Why do you think so, Miss Mary?”
“Something in your look and manner tells me that you know all about it; besides, you were on the shore while we in the boat heard the sounds of the bugle apparently coming from among the tree-tops.”
“Really, now, Miss Mary, I don’t see that all that proves anything against me,” laughed Lulu. “Do you think it does, papa?”
“Not at all,” replied her father. “A ventriloquist on the boat might, I think, make it seem to others that his voice came from among the tree-tops on the shore. But really, Mr. Croly,” turning toward the young man as he spoke, “I do not see that you have any positive proof that there is a ventriloquist here.”
“Why, sir, did we not hear a strange voice speaking apparently from yonder clump of bushes, and on examination find that there was no one there?”
“True; but who shall say it may not have been some one very nimble and fleet of foot who made his escape all too quickly to be caught?”
“Well, sir,” returned Croly slowly and with meditative air, “I suppose that is just possible. Perhaps too the same fellow was the bugler whom we all heard but none of us could see.”
“Edward,” said Mr. Dinsmore gravely, “youmay as well have the premises searched for that fellow; for one so adroit at suddenly disappearing from sight might readily enter the house and carry off valuables.”
“Yes, sir; I’ll see that he does not,” Edward replied with equal gravity, but carefully abstaining from an exchange of glances with Mr. Lilburn.
“Take care that he doesn’t steal your parrot, Lu,” said Zoe. “She’s worth stealing, and as she is such a good talker I’d be loath to lose her if she were mine.”
“Indeed so should I,” exclaimed Lulu. “I wouldn’t part with her for a great deal; especially as she was a present from papa.”
“We will be careful not to leave her here when we go home to-night,” said the captain.
“I hope you are not afraid to trust her with us, captain,” said Zoe. “I assure you we would be good to her, and I dare say she would prove a great amusement to my babies.”
“I have not a doubt that you would treat her well, sister Zoe,” replied the captain, “and if Lulu is inclined to lend her for a few days, I shall not object.”
“Then I’ll not take any trouble to hunt her up when we’re ready to go home,” said Lulu.
All had now satisfied their appetites, the tables were presently forsaken, and the companygathered in groups here and there under the trees, some amusing themselves in playing games, others with conversation; but it had been a long June day, and before the sun had fairly set most of them were on their homeward way; for Mr. and Mrs. Dinsmore and Grandma Elsie, hardly rested after their journey, began to look weary. Mr. Lilburn, at the urgent invitation of the captain and Violet, returned with them to Woodburn to complete his visit there, which they said had not been half long enough. Marian too was with them, so that they were quite a little party.
Grace and the little ones went directly to bed on reaching home, but the elder ones passed a pleasant hour or two on the veranda before returning.
“Motherdear,” Harold said, as he kissed her good-night on that first evening at home after their return from Princeton, “Herbert and I are decidedly hungry for one of the good old talks with you; but you are too weary to-night. May we come to you early in the morning for the dear old half-hour of Bible study and private talk before breakfast?”
“I shall be very glad to have you do so, my dear boys,” she replied, regarding them with eyes beaming with mother love and pride. “I have been looking forward with longing for the confidential talks with my boys which have always been so sweet to me; especially in regard to your plans for future usefulness as workers in the Master’s vineyard.”
“Yes, mamma, that is one of the principal matters about which we wish to consult you—our best, dearest, wisest earthly friend,” said Herbert, lifting her hand to his lips; “for who so wise, so loving, or so desirous to help each of us to use time and talents in a way to make them most helpful in the Master’s service?”
“I cannot lay claim to any great amount of wisdom, my dear boys,” Mrs. Travilla returned with a smile, “but am certain no one can love you better or feel a greater desire than I to see you earnest, efficient workers for Christ. I want very much to talk over with you your plans for the future, and think there could be no better time for doing so than that early morning hour when we shall be more secure from interruption than at almost any other. Now good-night, and may you rest sweetly and peacefully on this first night at home after your long absence.”
“May you also, dear mother, precious little mother,” said Harold, passing an arm about her waist, and smiling down with ardent affection into her still fair, sweet face. “I remember that I used to look up at your beautiful face, regarding you as a protector, but I feel that now I am yours—old enough and strong enough to defend you should any be so base as to attempt to do you harm.”
“Ah, my dear boy, fortunately no one has, I think, any such desire,” she said, returning his smile; “yet it is very pleasant to feel that I have so many strong young arms to support and shield me. ’Twas very pleasant in former years to be the protector of my little ones, and it is not less pleasant now to find them so ready to returnmy love and care. But now go to your beds, for you need rest and sleep to keep you in condition for the arduous duty of which we have just been speaking,” she added with playful look and tone.
“How early can we come without disturbing you, mother mine?” asked Herbert, snatching another kiss as Harold released her from his arms.
“At seven, if that is not too early,” she replied. “Rosie and Walter are usually with me about half-past seven, and the breakfast-hour is eight.”
They were at her dressing-room door the next morning exactly at the hour named, and found her ready to receive them. A pleasant chat followed, the lads telling her freely of their plans and desires in regard to their life-work; for diligent workers they intended to be. Harold still clung to his early choice of the medical profession, and Herbert, as devotedly attached to him as ever, and thinking he would not prefer any other employment, had decided to study medicine also unless his mother should, disapprove.
“No,” she said when he asked the question, “I shall be glad to have you together; so unless you, Herbert, have a stronger inclination for some other employment I shall be more thansatisfied to see you a physician; always provided you are a good one,” she added playfully. “Is it your wish, my sons, to return shortly to Philadelphia and pursue your medical studies there?”
“Not immediately, mother,” Harold replied. “We were talking the matter over with Cousin Arthur last night, and he being willing to undertake the business of instructing us, our plan is to stay at home with you for some time, studying with him. That is, if you are satisfied to have us do so.”
“Ah, I am much more than satisfied—most glad and thankful at the thought of again enjoying daily intercourse with these two dear sons who have been so long away from me during the greater part of the year. But just now you both need rest and recreation. You must have an outing somewhere for the next month or two, and I shall be glad to have you go with me to sea-shore or mountains—or both—and hope to bring you back refreshed and invigorated for your studies and such work for the Master as you may find in this neighborhood.”
“Thank you, mother dear,” returned Harold; “you have made out a programme that seems most inviting. I for one feel that rest and recreation for a time will be very enjoyable, and work afterward much more so than it could be at present.”
“I also,” said Herbert; “and it is certainly right to take rest when needed; for the Master himself said to his disciples, when they were weary, ‘Come ye yourselves apart into a desert place, and rest awhile.’”
“Yes,” assented his mother, “and we shall accomplish more in the end by taking needed rest; yet,” with a smiling glance at Herbert, “we must be on our guard against too much self-indulgence in that line.”
The young man colored and was silent for a moment, his face wearing a slightly mortified expression. “Mother dear,” he said presently, “I hope I have, in a measure at least, overcome my natural inclination to indolence.”
“My dear boy, I hope and believe so,” she said in return, “else you could hardly have passed so good an examination as you did.”
“Indeed, mother, he has been really a hard student,” Harold said, “and I think will undoubtedly show himself such when we begin our course of medicine.”
“I believe he will,” she responded with a loving smile into Herbert’s face and laying a hand tenderly upon his. “I hope to see you both eminent in your chosen profession and doing good to the bodies and souls of your fellow-men. I think there are few more useful men in the world than our cousin ArthurConly, and few who are more loved and respected than he; we all love him and have great confidence in his skill.”
“I have respected and loved him ever since I can remember,” remarked Herbert feelingly, “and can never cease to feel grateful to him as God’s instrument in the saving of my mother’s life.”
“Yes,” she said, “I can never forget his kindness at that critical time in my life, and I believe we have all loved him even better since that than before.”
“I think you are right about that, mother; I know you are so far as I am concerned,” Harold said, tears starting to his eyes. “Ah, when we heard of the danger and suffering you had passed through, we both felt that life without our mother would scarcely be a blessing.”
Just then Rosie and Walter came in looking bright and happy.
“Ah, mamma, it is so delightful to have you at home again!” exclaimed the former.
“We missed you sadly, kind as everybody was to us,” added Walter, putting his arm round her neck and gazing with ardent affection into her eyes, then kissing her on cheek and lips.
“I suppose it was a little hard for my baby boy to do without his mother,” she returned laughingly, holding him in a close embrace.
“Ah, mamma, I can take that name from you easily enough, because I know it is only your pet name for your youngest son, but I’d be vexed enough if anybody else should call me a baby.”
“You might well laugh at the absurdity if any one should, Walter,” Harold remarked, regarding his little brother with an affectionate look and smile, “for you are really a manly young fellow. I expect to be very proud of you one of these days.”
“And I am that already,” said Herbert, “for the captain tells me you are a fine scholar for a lad of your years. Besides, I know you are a good and dutiful son to mamma.”
“Indeed he is that, as all my boys are,” the mother said, regarding the three with loving looks.
“And can you not say as much for your daughters too, mamma—at least for Elsie and Vi?” asked Rosie in playful tone, but with a wistful look.
“I can indeed, for them and for Rosie also,” the mother answered, smiling affectionately upon her. “My daughters are all great blessings for which I thank my heavenly Father every day of my life. But now let us have our morning chapter together,” opening her Bible as she spoke.
The morning was bright and fair, and it was a cheerful, bright-faced party that presently surrounded the breakfast-table.
“Saturday morning, so only two hours for lessons to-day,” remarked Walter in a tone of satisfaction, breaking a slight pause in the conversation.
“What! my scholarly little grandson rejoicing in release from the pursuit of knowledge?” exclaimed Mr. Dinsmore in mock surprise and disapproval.
“Ah, grandpa, you are just in sport, I know,” laughed Walter. “But don’t you believe these older fellows, Mr. Croly and my two brothers, are glad of their holiday? I just know they are.”
“Judging others by yourself, after the manner of older people, eh?”
“Yes, sir; and I’d like to know what’s going to be done to-day.”
“Well, I believe I can inform you. Everybody who wants to go, and has been faithful in attendance to preliminary duties, will spend the day, by invitation, at the Oaks; Rosie’s day and yours beginning when your two hours of school duties are over.”
“Oh, I like that! I’m glad, Cousin Mary, that you are to see the place, it is so lovely there, and was mamma’s home when she was alittle girl and when she grew to be a young lady; and there are the rooms that used to be hers, and the one she was married in.”
“I shall be greatly interested in looking at them all, as well as glad to visit Cousin Horace and his family,” returned Miss Keith.
“I believe we are all invited?” Edward remarked interrogatively, turning to his wife.
“Yes, my dear,” Zoe replied, “even to the babies, who, I hope, will have a good time together in the nursery or out in the grounds.”
“Yes,” said Rosie, “Sisters Elsie and Violet were talking of going with all the children and young folks of each family. Aunt Rosie too expects to be there with her husband and all the children. The Howards are going also, the Conlys too; so that we shall be the same large party that were here yesterday.”
“And next week,” said Zoe, “we are all to assemble at Woodburn one day, at the Laurels on another, then at Fairview, and afterward at Roseland.”
“What a grand time we shall have!” continued Rosie; “and how can anybody be expected to give his or her mind to lessons? I have serious thoughts of petitioning my big brother—the captain—for a week of holidays.”
“How would it do to beg off from attendance upon the parties in order to do justice to yourstudies?” asked her grandfather in the tone of one suggesting an agreeable alternative.
“O grandpa, I couldn’t think of being so very impolite,” she exclaimed. “Surely you must know that my absence would spoil all the fun and seriously interfere with any enjoyment others might find in being there if I were with them!”
“But then we ought, any of us, to be willing to forego our own enjoyment for the sake of your improvement in your beloved studies, Rosie dear,” said Herbert in tones of brotherly affection.
“Ah, but I could not think of allowing such self-denial for my sake!” she exclaimed. “I should even prefer rising an hour earlier in the morning, or toiling over my tasks an hour later at night; and that is what I think I shall do, if the captain proves obdurate in regard to the granting of the holidays.”
“Which he will if I’m not greatly mistaken,” said Walter. “He said we were to go on with our studies till the time for our usual summer trip up North, and he’s a man to stick to his word if there ever was one.”
“Quite a strong recommendation, Walter,” laughed Mrs. Dinsmore, “and I really think the captain is deserving of it.”
“The captain is a very agreeable man to havea chat with,” remarked Croly. “I have seldom been more interested than I was yesterday in a little talk I had with him in regard to mining interests in the far West.”
“Yes; he owns property out there in which there are mines of great value,” said Harold.
“Ah? I was not aware of that fact, and he did not mention it,” returned Croly; “but in reply to a remark of mine, that I had been paying some attention to mineralogy and thought of going out to examine some land father owns in Arizona, he gave me a good deal of interesting information, such as I have not been able to find in any publication on the subject that I have got hold of as yet.”
“And should you question him on naval matters, or the history of our wars—or indeed history of any part of the world, I believe he could furnish all the information you might happen to want,” said Herbert.
“Yes,” said Walter, “it’s my decided belief that Brother Levis knows about as much on almost every subject as you could find in any of the cyclopædias.”
“That’s very strong, Walter,” laughed Edward. “The captain is, without doubt, a highly educated, intelligent, and well-read man, yet hardly a walking cyclopædia; a compliment at which no one would laugh more heartilythan himself, for he hasn’t a particle of self-conceit in his make-up.”
“Now you are complimenting him very highly, Ned,” said Mr. Dinsmore, “yet are not saying more than he deserves. I know of no man for whom I have a higher esteem than Captain Raymond.”
“And I can echo my father’s sentiments. He is a noble Christian man, the best of husbands and fathers,” said Mrs. Travilla. “I know of no man with whom I could feel better satisfied as the husband of one of my daughters. Evidently he makes Violet very happy.”
“And his children from the oldest to the youngest fairly idolize him,” remarked Zoe.
“And you do not object to him as a brother-in-law?” said Rosie interrogatively.
“On the contrary I like him extremely in that capacity,” was the quick, emphatic rejoinder.
“Mamma,” said Rosie insinuatingly, “Captain Raymond thinks a great deal of you, and as you are his mother, he ought to do as you say; most assuredly in regard to his treatment of your own children. Won’t you please send him word this morning that we ought to be allowed a holiday next week? Do now; there’s a good, kind mamma.”
“Would you have me say what I do notthink, Rosie dear?” queried her mother in return, and with an amused look into the bright eyes of her youngest daughter.
“Ah, mamma, how can you be so severe?” exclaimed Rosie. “Just think how trying to Walter and me to have to set off for lessons at Woodburn not only to-day, but every day next week, when you have only been with us for a day now since your return from your trip to the North.”
“For that very reason you and I ought to go willingly and without any fuss,” interposed Walter, with manly decision of air and tone. “Besides, as I said before, I know it would be perfectly useless to try to get Brother Levis to change his mind about the matter.”
“Then, my wise younger brother, I’ll not petition for your release from to-day’s tasks, or those of next week,” said Rosie.
“Oh, has anything been seen of last night’s burglar?” asked Croly, breaking the slight pause following upon Rosie’s last remark.
“I have heard nothing of him,” replied Edward, “and indeed had forgotten his existence until you spoke, Mr. Croly.”
“And poor Polly. Has she been seen?” inquired Mary Keith.
The answer was in the negative; no one had seen or heard of her.
“Ah well, then I suppose she must have found her way back to Woodburn,” said Mary.
“By the way, Cousin Mary, how would you like to drive over there this morning?” asked Edward. “They will hardly expect us at the Oaks before eleven o’clock, and Woodburn lies but little out of our way in going.”
“But,” returned Miss Keith, “we might perhaps hinder Cousin Vi in her preparations for the day’s outing.”
“I am going to drive you over and call for Vi and the little ones on the way,” said Grandma Elsie. “I think we shall find her ready to go on with us after we have had a little call, just for you to see the place. Then the captain will come somewhat later with his children and mine.”
“And how is Cousin Ronald to get there, mamma?” asked Walter.
“Probably in the captain’s carriage, or on one of his horses,” she replied; “the dear old gentleman can go when and how he likes. All such questions were not settled last night, but I know there will be no difficulty in his way, or that of any other invited guest, in getting there comfortably and in good season.”
“I’m glad of that, mamma,” returned Walter; “I’m very fond of Cousin Ronald and wouldn’t have him stay away for anything.”
At that remark several furtive, smiling glances were exchanged by the brothers and sisters about the table.
“He is a very pleasant old gentleman,” said Mrs. Dinsmore, “and I haven’t a doubt will add a great deal to the enjoyment of the company.”
“Yes, madam,” said Croly. “I saw comparatively little of him yesterday, but quite enough to make me desire a further acquaintance.”
“Oh, by the way Will, shall we walk, ride, or drive over to the Oaks to-day?” asked Harold.
“I am ready for any way that suits you, sir,” replied Croly.
“Well,” said Mr. Dinsmore, “I see every one is ready to leave the table. We will have prayers at once, and afterward settle all such questions in regard to the doings of the day.”
“Mamma,” said Rosie, following her mother out to the veranda when prayers were over, “if you approve I will go up at once and dress for the day, getting Walter to do the same. It won’t take us long; then I’d like to drive over immediately to Woodburn and coax Brother Levis to let us all begin lessons at once, that we may get through and off to the Oaks sooner than we would otherwise.”
“Very well, my child, I will order the carriage; for I think it would be the better plan for you to drive over, as the roads are dusty,” was the indulgent reply.
“Yes,” said Walter, who had followed and was now close behind them, “I like that plan, for walking one would have to take either the very dusty road or the wet grass; and I’d like to get through lessons as early as possible, too. So I’m off to dress,” and away he ran, Rosie following. Just then the telephone bell rang, and Rosie hastening to the instrument found that Captain Raymond was calling from Woodburn tosay that his pupils there had requested permission to begin school duties half an hour earlier than usual, that so they might be ready the sooner to drive over to the Oaks; that he had given consent, and would grant the same privilege to Rosie and Walter, if such was their desire, and they would come immediately.
“Thank you, sir. We will be there in a few minutes,” returned Rosie, then ran away to hurry through her preparations, while her mother took her place at the telephone to send a message to Violet, to the effect that she and their Cousin Mary might be expected at Woodburn about ten o’clock to make a short call, after which they would go on to the Oaks, taking her and her little ones with them if that arrangement suited her convenience.
“Thank you, mother dear,” came back in Violet’s own sweet tones, “I shall be glad to see both you and Cousin Mary, and you will find me and my babies ready to accept your kind invitation.”
Rosie and Walter made haste with their toilets, were presently in the carriage, and reached Woodburn just in season to take part in the opening school exercises.
All went prosperously that morning; the lessons had been thoroughly prepared, the recitations were so good that the captain feltentitled to bestow unstinted praise, and his pupils were dismissed from the school-room in gayest spirits.
“How very quiet the house seems!” exclaimed Lulu as they passed into the hall.
“Yes,” said her father; “Cousin Ronald, your mamma, and the little ones have gone on to the Oaks, and now we will follow them as soon as you are all ready. Our large family carriage is in waiting; it will hold us all nicely.”
They had only to put on their hats and gather up a few little things they wanted to take with them, and they drove away, a merry, laughing, jovial little party, so full of fun and frolic that time passed very quickly, and all were surprised when they found the carriage turning in at the great gates opening upon the beautiful grounds of the place that had been Elsie’s home in her girlhood’s days.
The chat and laughter suddenly ceased, and all eyes turned upon the lovely scenes through which they were passing. They were not entirely new to any of them, and only comparatively so to Marian, as she had already been there several times.
They were almost the last to arrive of all the large company of invited guests, and as they neared the mansion there could be seen, here and there on the lawn and in the shaded alleys,groups of grown people and of children, some sitting in the shade of the trees, others sauntering about or playing merry, romping games, while filling the air with their shouts and gleeful laughter.
A cordial welcome was given the captain and his pupils, who quickly made themselves at home in the grounds, scattering here and there among other guests, according to inclination or convenience.
The captain, having exchanged greetings with his host, hostess, and other friends and relatives, glanced about in search of his wife.
“You are looking for Vi, captain?” Grandma Elsie said inquiringly and with a smile. “She is engaged in piloting Cousin Mary about, showing her the places made memorable by having been the scenes of notable events in her mother’s life when this was her own and her father’s home. I believe they have gone down to what is still called Elsie’s arbor.”
“Ah?” he returned, “and my companionship would hardly be welcome just at present, I presume.”
“I cannot say, sir, but see no reason why it should not be,” she answered, and thanking her, he at once set off in the direction of the arbor, which was of course no unknown spot to him.
He found the ladies there, sitting together, gazing out upon the lovely landscape—the verdant valley, the clear waters of the swiftly flowing river, and the woods clad in the deep green of their summer robes. Violet was speaking in low, feeling tones, Mary listening evidently with intense interest. Violet had been telling of scenes and occurrences described in “Elsie’s girlhood”—the time when Arthur, in a fury of passion because she refused to advance him money without her father’s knowledge and consent, even went so far as to strike her, and was immediately soundly thrashed for it by Mr. Travilla; the time when Jackson, her discarded lover, discarded at first in obedience to her father’s command, afterward loathed by her when she had learned for herself that he was a villain of deepest dye instead of the honorable, virtuous man she had formerly esteemed him, came so unexpectedly upon her there, sitting alone and undefended, and with a loaded pistol threatened her life unless she would promise never to marry Mr. Travilla; but now Violet’s theme was her father’s confession of his love, and her mother’s glad surprise—the sweet story told to her by that mother herself since the dear father’s death.
“Mamma told it to me after I had heard the same sweet story from the lips of my own dearhusband,” were the words that reached the captain’s ear as he stepped into the arbor, and as she turned at the sound their eyes met with a look of love as ardent and intense as any ever bestowed by either one upon the other: they were as truly lovers now as they had been five years before.
“Excuse me, ladies,” he said with a bow and smile, “I do not wish to intrude, and will go away at once if my company is not desired.”
“It is no intrusion, I am sure,” was the reply of Miss Keith, while Violet said with a look of pleasure: “We are only too glad to have you with us, my dear. You have come in the nick of time, for I have just finished my story, which, though new to cousin, would have been old to you.”
She made room for him by her side as she spoke. He took the offered seat, and they talked for a little of the lovely grounds and the beauty of the view from that point; then rose and walked back to the house, conversing as they went.
Violet led the way to the grassy lawn upon which opened the glass doors of what had been in former years her mother’s sitting-room, and through them into the room itself.
“This and the dressing and bed rooms beyond were mamma’s apartments while living here,”she said, “and loving his eldest sister as he does, Uncle Horace has kept them furnished all these years almost precisely as they were when she occupied them.”
“I should think he would,” said Mary Keith, sending keenly interested and admiring glances from side to side; “it is all so lovely that I should not want to change a single thing, even if I did not care to keep them just so in remembrance of her, as I certainly should.”
Mr. Horace Dinsmore, Jr., came in at that instant.
“Ah, Vi,” he said, “so you are showing your mother’s old rooms to Cousin Mary. That is right. I spent many a happy hour here with that dear sister when I was but a little fellow, for, as I presume you know, she is twelve years older than I.
“Ah, how well I remember the heartache it gave me when I was told of her approaching marriage, and that she would then leave our home for Mr. Travilla’s at Ion. I could scarce forgive him for robbing me of my sister. In fact I refused my consent, but to my surprise and chagrin found that it made no difference.”
He led the way into the dressing-room. “This,” he said, “is where I found her standing in her beautiful bridal robes, as the hour drew near when she was to be given to Travilla.Oh, how beautiful she was! I can see her yet—the lovely, blushing, smiling face, the shining hair adorned with orange-blossoms, and the slender, graceful figure half concealed by the folds of rich white satin and a cloud of mist-like lace. I remember exclaiming, ‘You look like an angel, only without the wings!’ and how I wanted to hug her, but had been forbidden lest I should spoil or disarrange some of her finery; and what a heartache I had at the thought that she was never to be the same to me again—so entirely our own—as she had been before. She called me to come and kiss her, and oh, what a strong effort it cost to refrain from giving the forbidden hug! but she promised me an opportunity to give it before she went; and the promise was remembered and kept.”
“Did you not hug papa instead, Uncle Horace?” queried Violet between a smile and a tear, for she was thinking of that dear parent as gone from among them never to return.
“Yes,” he said, “he kindly invited me to use him as a substitute for my sister, which I did heartily, for he was a great favorite with me, in spite of his robbing me of her.”
“In which room of the house was Cousin Elsie married?” asked Mary.
“Come and I will show you, pointing out theprecise spot where she stood during the ceremony,” replied Mr. Dinsmore, leading the way, the others willingly following.
He redeemed his promise, gave a description of the adornment of the rooms on that memorable occasion, of the grounds also, and ended with the bride’s farewell to relatives and near and dear friends, especially her almost idolized father.
“Yes,” said Violet, “mamma has always loved grandpa so very, very dearly, and his love for her is, I believe, quite as great. Ah, uncle, let us take cousin to the hall and show her the niche from which mamma once fell when quite a little girl.”
“And I a baby boy,” he returned with a smile as he led the way; “but it was not from a niche she fell, Vi, but from a chair on the edge of which she stood, trying to reach up to hide a toy mouse behind the statue there. The chair slipped from under her; to save herself from falling she caught wildly at the legs of the statue, and she and it came down together with a crash upon the marble floor. There is the niche,” pointing it out, for they had reached the hall while he spoke; “the figure occupying it now is one purchased to replace that broken by its fall with sister at that time.”
“Did it fall on her? and was she badly hurt?”asked Miss Keith, shuddering slightly as she spoke.
“No,” replied Mr. Dinsmore, “not quite upon her, but so nearly that she had a very narrow escape from being crushed by it; she was stunned and bruised, but that was all, and she was able to join in the sports of the next day.”[A]
“Mary, that was in the winter which your aunts Mildred and Annis spent here,” remarked Violet. “I suppose you have heard something of that?”
“Yes, I think I have,” said Miss Keith. “Cousin Percy and you, Cousin Horace, were babes at that time, were you not? I think you said a moment since.”
“I have been told that we were,” Mr. Dinsmore replied with a smile. “Now I think I have shown you about all the places in the house that are interesting from being connected with events in my sister’s life. Most of our friends are at present on the verandas or the lawn; shall we go out and join them?”
A prompt assent was given and he led the way. All the invited guests seemed to have arrived; even Dr. Conly, who had been somewhat delayed by professional duties, was there surrounded by the young people, who were allfond of him as both relative and physician. Calhoun, the Dinsmore girls, Evelyn Leland, Marian McAlpine, Lulu Raymond, Harold and Herbert Travilla formed another group; but Calhoun, on seeing Mary Keith approaching, left the others, advanced to meet her, and after exchanging with her a pleasant “Good-morning,” invited her to a stroll through the grounds, adding, “I presume you have hardly seen every part of them yet?”