enings of the year that had passed, and Donald was
as astonished as he was pleased to discover what diligent application
the girl had exercised in her studying, and what results she had
attained, despite the manifold handicaps under which she had labored.
Her ministerial friend and mentor had truly guided her feet far along
the lower levels of learning. Yet the old and well-remembered childish
charm had been in no wise lessened, and the unaffected simplicity with
which she dropped into the mountain tongue, when speaking to her
grandfather, caused Donald to glow with sympathetic appreciation.

As they finished eating, Big Jerry remarked, "Hit air a powerful fine
mornin' fer ter spend huntin', my boy. I reckon yo'll wish ter git inter
the woods right smart, an' ef yo' desires ter make a day uv hit,
Smiles'll fix ye up er leetle lunch ter take erlong."

"Oh, I'm not exactly sure what I shall do," answered Donald, with slight
hesitation. "Perhaps what I need most, to start with, is just plain
rest, and I rather guess I'll laze around this morning, and maybe go
down to Fayville to get my grip this afternoon."

"Wall, thet air a good idee. Jest make yo'rself ter home. I've got a
leetle bizness ter attend to up the mountain a piece, an' I allows yo'
kin git erlong 'thout me fer a while." He departed, disappearing with
surprising rapidity, and left the man and girl together.

Donald sank onto the doorstep, leaned against the side post, and sucked
away at his pipe with lazy contentment, alternately watching Rose as she
flew busily about her simple household duties, and sending his gaze out
over the broad stretch of peaceful mountainside, which lay dozing in the
warm morning sun.

CHAPTER XII

THE THREE OF HEARTS

At length Donald said, abruptly, "You haven't asked me anything about
Miss Treville, Smiles."

There was a perceptible pause in the girl's dish-drying, and the simple
mountain ballad that she was happily humming broke off in the middle of
a minor cadence. The man regarded her with curiosity as she slowly
approached him, saying, "I didn't mean to be so forgetful, doctor, and
I'm plumb ashamed. I should be pleased to have you tell me all about
her."

"Why, I don't know as there is much to tell," he replied, a little
nonplussed by the unexpectedness of the implied question. "Of course she
is very nice and very lovely, as I wrote you."

"What does she look like?"

"I am afraid that I cannot hope to giv