right." He went out on the veranda to see if the Champ-au-Haut
carriage was in sight. A moment later, when it drove up, he was at the
door to open it.

"Here I am, Aunt Meda. Will this hold two and all those bundles?"

"Why, Champney, you here? Come in." She made room for him on the ample
seat; he sprang in, and bent to kiss her before sitting down beside her.

"Now, I call this luck. This is as good as a confessional, small and
dark, and 'fess I've got to, Aunt Meda, or there'll be trouble for
somebody at Campo."

Had the space not been so "small and dark" he might have seen the face
of the woman beside him quiver painfully at the sound of his cheery
young voice and, when he kissed her, flush to her temples.

"What devilry now, Champney?"

"It's a girl, of course, Aunt Meda--your girl," he added laughing.

"So you've found her out, have you, you young rogue? Well, what do you
think of her?"

"I think you'll have a whole vaudeville show at Champ-au-Haut for the
rest of your days--and gratis."

"I've been coming to that conclusion myself," said Mrs. Champney,
smiling in turn at the recollection of some of her experiences during
the past three weeks. "She amuses me, and I've concluded to keep her.
I'm going to have her with me a good part of the time. I've seen enough
since she has been with me to convince me that my people will amount to
nothing so long as she is with them." There was an edge to her words the
sharpness of which was felt by Octavius on the front seat.

"I can't blame them; I couldn't. Why Tave here is threatened already
with a quick decline--sheer worry of mind, isn't it Tave?" Octavius
nodded shortly; "And as for Romanzo there's no telling where he will
end; even Ann and Hannah are infected."

"What do you mean, Champney?" She was laughing now.

"Just wait till I run in and get the mail for us both, and I'll tell
you; it's my confession."

He sprang out, ran up the steps and disappeared for a moment. He
reappeared thrusting some letters into his pocket. Evidently he had not
looked at them. He handed the other letters and papers to Octavius, and
so soon as the carriage was on the way to The Bow he regaled his aunt
with his evening's experience under the bay window.

"Serves you right," was her only comment; but her laugh told him she
enjoyed the episode. He went into the house upon her invitation and sat
with her till nearly eleven, giving an account of himself--at least all
the account h