my own account, but also in
the name of the public of Chestnut Hill, and on behalf of our beloved
country. Now I must go. I have decided, in returning, to drive across
by Darbytown, strike the creek road, and go down home by that route
in order to avoid drifts and bare places. Oh, by the way, there's a
little matter I neglected to speak to Mr. Walker about. It's of no
great moment, but I understand his grandson came up here this
afternoon, and, if he is still here, I will take the opportunity to
send back word by him."

He made the inquiry with as great an air of indifference as he could
assume, but his breath came quick as he waited for an answer.

"Why," replied Henry Cobb, "Pen was here along about three o'clock. He
was looking for a two-year old heifer that strayed away yesterday. He
went over toward Darbytown. You might run across him if you're going
that way. But I'll send your message down to Enos Walker if you wish."

"Thank you! It doesn't matter. I may possibly see the young man along
the road. Good night!"

"Good night, colonel!"

The impatient horses were given rein once more, and dashed away to the
music of the two score bells that hung from their shining harness.

But, although Colonel Richard Butler scanned every inch of the way
from Henry Cobb's to Darbytown, with anxious and longing eyes, he did
not once catch sight of any farmer's boy searching for a two-year old
heifer that had strayed from its home.

At dusk he stepped wearily from his sleigh and mounted the steps that
led to the porch of Bannerhall. His daughter met him at the door.

"For goodness' sake, father!" she exclaimed; "where on earth have you
been?"

"I have been to Cobb's Corners," was the quiet reply.

"Did you get Pen?" she asked, excitedly.

"I did not."

"Wouldn't Mr. Walker let him come?"

"I made no request of any one for my grandson's return. I went to
obtain a spruce tree from Mr. Walker, out of which to make a
flag-staff for the school grounds. I obtained it."

"That's a wonder."

"It is not a wonder, Millicent. Permit me to say, as one speaking from
experience, that when accused of selfishness, Enos Walker has been
grossly maligned. I have found him to be a public-spirited citizen,
and a much better man, in all respects, than he has been painted."

His daughter made no further inquiries, for she saw that he was not in
a mood to be questioned. But, from that day forth, the shadow of
sorrow and of longing gre