p very keenly. He was
my Colonel--I----"

"I should imagine so," said Harlan, kindly, "though, as I have told you, I
never knew him at all."

"A much-misunderstood gentleman," continued Mr. Bradford, carefully wiping
his spectacles. "My grief is too recent, at present, to enable me to
discourse freely of his many virtues, but at some future time I shall hope
to make you acquainted with your benefactor. He was my Colonel, and in
serving under him in the war, I had an unusual opportunity to know him as
he really was. May I ask, without intruding upon your private affairs,
whether or not it is your intention to reside here permanently?"

"We have not made up our minds," responded Harlan. "We shall stay here
this Summer, anyway, as I have some work to do which can be done only in a
quiet place."

"Quiet!" muttered the old gentleman, "quiet place! If I might venture to
suggest, I should think you would find any other season more agreeable for
prolonged mental effort. In Summer there are distractions----"

"Yes," put in Dorothy, "in Summer, one wants to be outdoors, and I am
going to keep chickens and a cow, but my husband hopes to have his book
finished by September."

"His book!" repeated Mr. Bradford, in genuine astonishment. "Am I actually
addressing an author?"

He beamed upon Harlan in a way which that modest youth found positively
disconcerting.

"A would-be author only," laughed Harlan, the colour mounting to his
temples. "I've done newspaper work heretofore, and now I'm going to try
something else."

"My dear sir," said Mr. Bradford, rising, "I must really beg the privilege
of clasping your hand. It is a great honour for Judson Centre to have an
author residing in its midst!"

Taking pity upon Harlan, Dorothy hastened to change the subject. "We hope
it may be," she observed, lightly, "and I wonder, Mr. Bradford, if you
could not give me some good advice?"

"I shall be delighted, my dear madam. Any knowledge I may possess is
trebly at your service, for the sake of the distinguished author whose
wife you have the honour to be, for the sake of your departed relative,
who was my friend, my Colonel, and last, but not least, for your own
sake."

"It is only about a maid," said Dorothy.

"A ---- my dear madam, I beg your pardon?"

"A maid," repeated Dorothy; "a servant."

"Oh! A hired girl, or more accurately, in the parlance of Judson Centre,
the help. Do I understand that it is your desire to become an