t as Hi
Holler came out on the porch, seized the supper horn and blew it
furiously. The Squire came down and looked amazed at the smartly
dressed young city man talking to Anna.

"Squire," she said, taking the initiative, "this gentleman is inquiring
for you."

On hearing the Squire's footsteps, Sanderson turned to him with all the
cordiality at his command, and, slapping him on the back, said: "Hello,
Squire, I've just ridden over to talk to you about your prize Jersey
heifer." The Squire had only met Sanderson once or twice before, and
that was prior to Kate's visit to Boston; but he knew all about the
young man who had become his neighbor.

Lennox Sanderson was a lucky fellow, and while waiting impatiently for
his father to start him in life, his uncle, the judge, died and
mentioned no one but Lennox Sanderson in his will.

The Squire had known the late Judge Sanderson, the "big man" of the
county, very well, and lost no time in cultivating the acquaintance of
the judge's nephew, who had fallen heir to the fine property the judge
had accumulated, no small part of which was the handsome "country seat"
of the judge in the neighborhood.

That is how this fine young city man happened to drop in on the Squire
so unceremoniously. He had learned of Kate's return from Boston and
was hastening to pay his respects to the pretty girl. To say he was
astounded to find Anna on the spot is putting it mildly. He believed
she had learned of his good fortune and had followed him, to make
disagreeable exactions. It put him in a rage and it cost him a strong
effort to conceal it before the Squire.

"Walk right in," said the Squire, beaming with hospitality. Sanderson
entered and the girl found herself alone in the twilight. Anna sat on
the bench by the well-curb and faced despair. She was physically so
weak from her long and recent illness that the unexpected interview
with Sanderson left her faint and exhausted. The momentary flare up of
her righteous indignation at Sanderson's outrageous proposition that
she should go away had sapped her strength and she made ready to meet
one of the great crises of life with nerveless, trembling body and a
mind incapable of action.

She pressed her throbbing head on the cool stones of the well-curb and
prayed for light. What could she do--where could she go? Her fate
rose up before her like a great stone prison wall at which she beat
with naked bleeding hand and the stones still