between the tall silver urns and pouring out the
Major's coffee. "What an uncertain day you have for church," she added as
she gave his cup to Cupid.

With his eyes on her vivid face the old man listened rapturously to her
fresh young voice--the voice, he said, that always made him think of clear
water falling over stones. It was one of the things that came to her from
Peyton Ambler, he knew, with her warm hazel eyes and the sweet, strong
curve of her mouth. "Ah, but you're like your father," he said as he
watched her. "If you had brown hair you'd be his very image."

"I used to wish that I had," responded Betty, "but I don't now--I'd just as
soon have red." She was thinking that Dan did not like brown hair so much,
and the thought shone in her face--only the Major, in his ignorance,
mistook its meaning.

After breakfast he got into the coach and started off, and Betty, with the
key basket on her arm, followed Cupid and Aunt Rhody into the storeroom.
Then she gathered fresh flowers for the table, and went upstairs to read a
chapter from the Bible to Mrs. Lightfoot.

The Major stayed to dinner in town, returning late in a moody humour and
exhausted by his drive. As Betty brushed her hair before her bureau, she
heard him talking in a loud voice to Mrs. Lightfoot, and when she went in
at supper time the old, lady called her to her bedside and took her hand.

"He has had a touch of the gout, Betty," she whispered in her ear, "and he
heard some news in town which upset him a little. You must try to cheer him
up at supper, child."

"Was it bad news?" asked Betty, in alarm.

"It may not be true, my dear. I hope it isn't, but, as I told Mr.
Lightfoot, it is always better to believe the worst, so if any surprise
comes it may be a pleasant one. Somebody told him in church--and they had
much better have been attending to the service, I'm sure,--that Dan had
gotten into trouble again, and Mr. Lightfoot is very angry about it. He had
a talk with the boy before he went away, and made him promise to turn over
a new leaf this year--but it seems this is the most serious thing that has
happened yet. I must say I always told Mr. Lightfoot it was what he had to
expect."

"In trouble again?" repeated Betty, kneeling by the bed. Her hands went
cold, and she pressed them nervously together.

"Of course we know very little about it, my dear," pursued Mrs. Lightfoot.
"All we have heard is that he fought a duel and was sent away from th