ty, not a cent to his
name--that's bad enough!--but more brains 'an all the 'first families'
put together ever had. Made his way right straight up the ladder.
Has a reputation greater outside Annyrunnell than in it. Only
fault--likes money. Says he'll make a fortune yet will beat the
'aristocrats' into being proud of him. Says if he does have to leave
his daughter the humble name of Jabb he'll pile money enough on top of
it to make the world forget what's underneath. Says when she marries
she shall never discard that name but always be 'of J'. Poor little
child! Her parents adore her but all her father's skill and pride is
powerless to straighten her poor little body. She's a hunchback, and
though she doesn't mind that for herself she grieves over it for them.
Oh! but this is a grand day! The Colonel will just idolize little
Eunice--I want to fling up my hat and hurra!"

All this information had been given in a whisper while Dorothy
snuggled in the great fronds, and Mr. Stillwell crouched beside her,
idly digging with the paperknife he had picked up, and trying to keep
his presence hidden from these two chief actors in this unexpected
scene.

"Do you suppose it was really to find the 'buried treasure' the
Colonel came? Or to--to make up friends with his daughter?" asked
Dolly, softly.

"Well--both, maybe. No matter why nor how--he's here. They've met, and
at heart are just as loving as they always were. It is a good day, the
best anniversary Josie Dillingham ever had. Hark! What's doing? Peep
and see."

"The lady has motioned that groom to lead the horses this way. Ah!
isn't that sweet? The little thing is holding out her arms to the
Colonel as if she knew him and loved him already!"

"Reckon Josie's taught her that. Joe always was a brick! Liked to rule
the roost but with a heart as big as her body. She told my Lucetty 't
she should teach little Eunice to know she had a grandpa somewhere and
that he was the very best, dearest man alive; so that when they met,
if they ever did, she wouldn't be afraid but would take to him right
away. Reckon her plan's succeeded. Won't Lucetty be glad about this!"

The groom was now leading the two horses through the woods, toward the
Copse and the Water Lily. Both saddles were empty for little Eunice
was in her grandfather's arms and he stepping as proudly, almost as
firmly, as the woman walking beside him.

"They--why--why--what have you done? Broken Aunt Betty's paperknife of