s approaching the presence, or hinds of the estate
coming to crave an audience?" demanded John, who professed much
amusement at what he had seen of the semi-feudal manner of life at
Oakwood, and at Sydney's responsibilities with regard to the work of
the farm and to the tenants.

The girl peered into the gathering gloom.

"It must be Bob Morgan. Yes, it is; and that looks like Patton McRae's
black mare."

"By their nags ye shall know them," said John. "Who are these estimable
youths? I look upon them with the eye of jealousy."

"Bob Morgan? Oh, he's Dr. Morgan's son. You passed his house near the
post-office. And the McRaes live at Cotswold; there's a big family of
them. Will you ring for tea, Mr. Wendell?"

"I fly to do your bidding, even though it be to succor my rivals, for
such I feel they are," and he slapped his chest melodramatically.

Much stamping of feet and shaking of garments heralded the announcement
of the two young men by Uncle Jimmy, the old colored butler.

"How good of you both to come in this weather," said Sydney, flashing a
greeting at each one in turn. "You are just in time to prevent Miss
Wendell from being bored to death."

"Delighted to prevent your demise," said Patton, promptly, and attached
himself at once to Katrina's following.

"Uncle Jimmy," said Sydney to the old man who was poking the fire with
an assiduity born of a desire to stay in the room as long as possible,
"tell Mrs. Carroll that tea is just coming in, and that Mr. Bob and Mr.
Patton are here."

"See what you've brought us, Mr. McRae," Katrina was saying, as a ray
of sunshine broke the twilight darkness.

The mountains stood a deep and penetrable blue against a golden break
behind the Balsams. Fierce black clouds hurried across the upper sky,
dragging after them ragged ends of mist, and beneath this roofing the
setting sun aimed its luminous shafts across the _rest_ made by
Pisgah's rugged peak.

No one broke the spell of beauty by a word, but Wendell saw a glance
pass between Sydney and Bob,--the look of sympathy sure of its fellow.

The sound of Mrs. Carroll's cane brought them all to their feet. She
entered, tiny, autocratic, keen, leaning upon Uncle Jimmy's faithful
arm.

"Good afternoon, Bob. Good afternoon, Patton. You are doubly welcome on
this stormy day. Put my chair a little more to the side of the
fireplace, Bob. Yes, Patton, the footstool, if you please. You may go,
James. John, the hook for my cane