ave already mentioned, was the Conwell place; and after we had talked
of the landscape awhile, Glendenning said: "By the way! Why don't you
buy the Conwell place? You liked it so much, and you were all so well in
Gormanville. The Conwells want to sell it, and it would be just the
thing for you, five or six months of the year."

I explained, almost compassionately, the impossibility of a poor
insurance man thinking of a summer residence like the Conwell place, and
I combated as well as I could the optimistic reasons of my friend in its
favor. I was not very severe with him, for I saw that his optimism was
not so much from his wish to have me live in Gormanville as from the new
hope that filled him. It was by a perfectly natural, if not very logical
transition that we were presently talking of this greater interest
again, and Glendenning was going over all the plans that it included. I
encouraged him to believe, as he desired, that a sea-voyage would be the
thing for Mrs. Bentley, and that it would be his duty to take her to
Europe as soon as he was in authority to do so. They should always, he
said, live in Gormanville, for they were greatly attached to the place,
and they should keep up the old Bentley homestead in the style that he
thought they owed to the region where the Bentleys had always lived. It
is a comfort to a man to tell his dreams, whether of the night or of the
day, and I enjoyed Glendenning's pleasure in rehearsing these fond
reveries of his.

He interrupted himself to listen to the sound of hurried steps, and
directly a man in his shirt-sleeves came running by on the sidewalk
beyond the maples. In a village like Gormanville any passer is of
interest to the spectator, and a man running is of thrilling moment.
Glendenning started to his feet, and moved forward for a better sight of
the flying passer. He called out to the man, who shouted back something
I could not understand, and ran on.

"What did he say?"

"I don't know." Glendenning's face as he turned to me again was quite
white. "It is Mrs. Bentley's farmer," he added, feebly, and I could see
that it was with an effort he kept himself from sinking. "Something has
happened."

"Oh, I guess not, or not anything serious," I answered, with an effort
to throw off the weight I suddenly felt at my own heart. "People have
been known to run for a plumber. But if you're anxious, let us go and
see what the matter is."

I turned and got my hat; Glendenning