gainst her charms."

"We will try, now that we have you on our side, dear Aunt Judith.
Perhaps Mr. Ellsworth may not admire blondes like Dainty. Besides, she
is a vain, silly little thing, and very deceitful!" fibbed Olive, trying
to prejudice her aunt against Dainty in advance.

Mrs. Ellsworth drew a sigh of relief, and replied:

"If that is the case, she can not charm Love Ellsworth, for he is the
soul of truth and honor, and abhors deceit. But there is one thing I
must caution you both about, if you wish to please my step-son, and
that is, if you hear any of the servants gossiping about Ellsworth being
haunted, do not mention it to him, as it makes him very angry, and he
has turned away several servants for talking about it."

They both promised not to breathe such a thing to their host; and as
Mrs. Ellsworth saw that they were secretly curious, she explained:

"Of course, you have noticed and admired the ivy-grown stone wing to the
left of the mansion. It is all that is left of Castle Ellsworth, that
was built before the Revolution by Love's ancestor, Baron Ellsworth. It
has fallen into disuse now, and the servants declare it is haunted, but
it makes Love perfectly furious to hear such reports."

When the girls were alone again they whispered to each other:

"If Dainty Chase finds out about the ghosts, she will be frightened
almost to death, she is such a little coward!"

Sitting on the broad veranda at sunset, the cousins heard the whistle of
the train at the station, miles away, that was to bring Dainty, if she
decided to come.

"That is Love's train, if he comes," said their aunt. "But there must be
some delay, or he would have telegraphed for the carriage."

CHAPTER III.

THE HAPPIEST DAY SHE HAD EVER KNOWN.

Olive and Ela sighed with relief, hoping something had happened after
all, to keep Dainty at home; but they would have been horrified if they
had guessed that Ellsworth had not telegraphed his aunt, choosing to
secure a trap at the station, and have a _tete-a-tete_ drive over the
road with winsome Dainty.

They had started even now, the young man driving a light buggy, with
Dainty's trunk strapped on securely at the back. They went at a
leisurely pace, for which he accounted by saying lightly:

"I hope you won't mind because we have to travel slowly. The road is
rough, and the horse slow--what we call in the country a 'courting
horse,'" smiling at her with quizzical dark eyes that ma