est. As the team dropped to a walk, 'Phemie suddenly leaned forward
and clutched the driver's arm.

"Look yonder, Lucas!" she whispered. "There, by the corner of the house."

"Whoa!" muttered Lucas, and brought the horses to a halt.

The girls and Lucas all saw the two figures. They wavered for a moment
and then one hurried behind the high stone wall between the yard and the
old orchard. The other crossed the front yard boldly toward the highroad.

"They came from the direction of the east wing," whispered 'Phemie.

"Who do you suppose they are?" asked Lyddy, more placidly. "Somebody who
tried to call on us?"

"That there feller," said Lucas, slowly, his voice shaking oddly, as he
pointed with his whip after the man who just then gained the highroad,
"that there feller is Lem Judson Spink--I know his long hair and
broad-brimmed hat."

"What?" cried 'Phemie. "The man who lived here at Hillcrest when he was
a boy?"

"So they say," admitted Lucas. "Dad knew him. They went to school
together. He's a rich man now."

"But what could he possibly want up here?" queried Lyddy, as the ponies
went on. "And who was the other man?"

"I--I dunno who he was," blurted out Lucas, still much disturbed in voice
and appearance.

But after the girls had disembarked, and bidden Lucas good night, and the
young farmer had driven away, 'Phemie said to her sister, as the latter
was unlocking the door of the farmhouse:

"_I_ know who that other man was."

"What other man?"

"The one who ran behind the stone wall."

"Why, who was it, 'Phemie?" queried her sister, with revived interest.

"Cyrus Pritchett," stated 'Phemie, with conviction, and nothing her sister
could say would shake her belief in that fact.

CHAPTER XIII

LYDDY DOESN'T WANT IT

"Who is this Mr. Spink?" asked Lydia Bray the following morning, as they
prepared for church.

It was a beautiful spring morning. There had been a pattering shower
at sunrise and the eaves were still dripping, while every blade of the
freshly springing grass in the side yard--which was directly beneath
the girls' window--sparkled as though diamond-decked over night.

The old trees in the orchard were pushing both leaf and
blossom--especially the plum and peach trees. In the distance other
orchards were blowing, too, and that spattered the mountainside with
patches of what looked to be pale pink mist.

The faint tinkling of the sheep-bells came across the hills to the ears