up the whole forenoon--the most
valuable part of the day--jogging over the country to examine
title-deeds and accounts? Humph! if you expect anything of the sort,
you are mistaken. No, sir! I started from Winchester at day-break,
without my breakfast, and here I am."

The jovial Squire laughed, and turning from Verty, with whom he had
shaken hands, said to the lawyer:

"Breakfast?--is it possible? Well, Rushton, for once I will be
magnanimous--magnificent, generous and liberal--"

"What!" growled the lawyer.

"You shall have some breakfast here!" finished the Squire, laughing
heartily; and the merry old fellow caught Miss Redbud up from the
porch, deposited a matutinal salute upon her lips, and kicking at old
Caesar as he passed, by way of friendly greeting, led the way into the
breakfast room.

Verty made a movement to depart, inasmuch as he had breakfasted; but
the vigilant eye of the lawyer detected this suspicious manoeuvre;
and the young man found himself suddenly commanded to remain, by the
formula "Wait!" uttered with a growl which might have done honor to a
lion.

Verty was not displeased at this interference with his movements, and,
obedient to a sign, followed the lawyer into the breakfast-room.

Everything was delightfully comfortable and cheerful there.

And ere long, at the head of the table sat Miss Lavinia, silent and
dignified; at the foot, the Squire, rubbing his hands, heaping plates
with the savory broil before him, and talking with his mouth full; at
the sides, Mr. Rushton, Redbud and Verty, who sedulously suppressed
the fact that he had already breakfasted, for obvious reasons,
doubtless quite plain to the reader.

The sun streamed in upon the happy group, and seemed to smile with
positive delight at sight of Redbud's happy face, surrounded by its
waving mass of curls--and soft blue eyes, which were the perfection of
tenderness and joy.

He smiled on Verty, too, the jovial sun, and illumined the young man's
handsome, dreamy face, and profuse locks, and uncouth hunter costume,
with a gush of light which made him like a picture of some antique
master, thrown upon canvas in a golden mood, to live forever. All
the figures and objects in the room were gay in the bright sunlight,
too--the shaggy head of Mr. Rushton, and the jovial, ruddy face of the
Squire, and Miss Lavinia's dignified and stately figure, solemn and
imposing, flanked by the silver jug and urn--and on the old ticking
clock, a