vieve made some scornful reference to the
probable motives of those who upheld the later one, Allan exclaimed in a
tone of irritation, "It is beyond my comprehension how you can have so
much feeling in the matter. I have seen no reason to suppose the old man
incapable of making a will. The testimony seemed to point the other way;
and as nobody except the hospital had anything to gain by this last win,
it strikes me as worse than absurd to impute motives of jealousy to
people who were only giving their honest opinion."

"It must be because we are not blest with your truly amiable disposition,"
Genevieve observed languidly.

A smile flitted across Rosalind's face; her uncle had spoken with a good
deal of heat. Allan himself laughed. His fits of irritation usually ended
in this way.

"Well, it is all over now, and we may as well make the best of it. You
shall have Patricia's miniature if I can get it for you."

"Thank you," said Genevieve, really gratified. "I fear you do not know
what you are promising."

Rosalind wondered how her uncle felt in regard to the Fairs, and she once
or twice mentioned Celia, watching him furtively meanwhile. There was,
however, no shadow of a change in his expression, and he made no comment.

A vast difference was made in the house by Allan's return. He stood in no
awe of Miss Herbert, had no qualms about disturbing the drawing-room
blinds or leaving the front door open from morning till night,--a
Friendship custom which did not recommend itself to the housekeeper. A
high cart and a swift-footed mare made their appearance, and Rosalind was
often her uncle's companion on his visits to the farms belonging to the
estate.

Allan was continually expecting his interest in Friendship to languish,
but it did not, and after a few weeks he gave up all thought of the
western trip.

The middle of July saw Genevieve on her way to the North, and a little
later Miss Herbert went home on a holiday. After their departure peace
settled down upon the house behind the griffins.

The Arden Foresters found the summer days none too long. They still met
Celia in the arbor now and then; and it was her stories of the Gilpin
house, of the ring and the spinet, together with the constant sight of the
closed shutters and doors, that led to an adventure one warm August day.

"Important meeting at the oak tree this afternoon,--a discovery!" was the
startling announcement Rosalind found within the grass-tied missiv