turned
from the office in the afternoon, I had agreed to go to St. Louis. By
this time, I had no choice in the matter, unless I wished to interfere
very much with my own interests. We were to start in two days. If in
that time we could get any one to stay at the place, very well; if not,
Pomona must assume the charge. We were not able to get any one, and
Pomona did assume the charge. It is surprising how greatly relieved we
felt when we were obliged to come to this conclusion. The arrangement
was exactly what we wanted, and now that there was no help for it, our
consciences were easy.

We felt sure that there would be no danger to Pomona. Lord Edward would
be with her, and she was a young person who was extraordinarily well
able to take care of herself. Old John would be within call in case she
needed him, and I borrowed a bull-dog to be kept in the house at night.
Pomona herself was more than satisfied with the plan.

We made out, the night before we left, a long and minute series of
directions for her guidance in household, garden and farm matters, and
directed her to keep a careful record of everything note worthy that
might occur. She was fully supplied with all the necessaries of life,
and it has seldom happened that a young girl has been left in such a
responsible and independent position as that in which we left Pomona.
She was very proud of it.

Our journey was ten times more delightful than we had expected it would
be, and successful in every way; and yet, although we enjoyed every hour
of the trip, we were no sooner fairly on our way home than we became so
wildly anxious to get there, that we reached Rudder Grange on Wednesday,
whereas we had written that we would be home on Thursday. We arrived
early in the afternoon and walked up from the station, leaving our
baggage to be sent in the express wagon. As we approached our dear home,
we wanted to run, we were so eager to see it.

There it was, the same as ever. I lifted the gate-latch; the gate was
locked. We ran to the carriage-gate; that was locked too. Just then I
noticed a placard on the fence; it was not printed, but the lettering
was large, apparently made with ink and a brush. It read:

TO BE SOLD

For TAXES.

We stood and looked at each other. Euphemia turned pale.

"What does this mean?" said I. "Has our landlord--"

I could say no more. The dreadful thought arose that the place might
pass away from us. We were not yet ready t