rt was down the
steps and standing by the motor-car. When the best thing possible
happens to a man, the thing far too good to be dreamed of, it is at
first unbelievable. But there she was, surely, Rosalie, her very self,
in a long tan motoring coat, with a filmy scarf tied under her dimpling
chin, her cheeks pink, her blue eyes dancing!

"Oh!" cried Gilbert, too overcome with joy for coherent speech, "it
can't be you!"

"Yes, it's me," trilled Rosalie, laughing at her own lapse of English.
"Here's Aunt Eleanor, and Maud, and all the rest of us!"

He greeted them in a half-dazed manner. He could see no one but
Rosalie, could realize nothing but the dazzling joy of her coming.

He scarcely listened even to her explanation of their appearance. They
had started north on a short tour, but had never dreamed of going so
far. They had spent the night at a friend's in Lakeview, and thought
they must run out here and see him and his practice in their primitive
state. Would they come in? Why, of course they would! She wanted to
get nearer to that gorgeous piper, not to speak of the hens and ducks
and pigs. And did he raise geese and turkeys himself? And had he
taken a prize?

Gilbert helped the ladies to alight. He was well acquainted with
Rosalie's aunt and sister, and shook hands with the elder woman warmly.
She had ever been a good friend to him, and had helped him many a time
when Rosalie had contrived to make him miserable. The two young men he
had met before. He recognized the owner of the car as an old rival,
and looked at him with dark suspicion. His name had been coupled with
Rosalie's during the past season oftener than he liked.

As the party of strangers entered the grounds they caused more
excitement than the piper and the merry-go-round combined. Such a
piece of mechanism as a motor-car had never before come within the
range of Granny Long's telescope. Folks who had been fortunate enough
to attend the Toronto Exhibition came home with great tales of having
seen just such machines shooting around the city streets without any
aid, and Bella Winters and Wes Long had even had their pictures taken
together in one for twenty-five cents. But to most people this great
red monster, looking, for all the world, as Spectacle John said, like a
live threshing-mill, was an astounding sight. When the party left, a
crowd of men gathered about it, keeping carefully out of its track, for
William Winters had see