the unexpected return of the mistress of the house, and
his greeting was most cordial. Indeed, there was something about it
which suggested to the young guests that their elders might wish to be
alone; so, one after another, they bade Mrs. Betty good-night and
disappeared.

Dorothy, also, was for slipping quietly away, but Aunt Betty bade her
remain; saying gently:

"We won't sleep, my child, till we have cleared away all the clouds
between us. As for you, Cousin Seth, what has so wearied you?
Something more than chaperoning a lot of young folks to a circus, I
fancy."

"You're right. The afternoon performance was a pleasure; the ride home
a trial."

"With whom did you ride?"

"Oliver Sands."

"Indeed? How came----"

"It's a long story, Cousin Betty. Wouldn't we better wait till
morning?"

"Don't you know how much curiosity I have? Do you want to keep me
awake all night?" demanded the lady. But she believed that her old
friend had some deep perplexity on his mind and that it would be a
comfort to him to share it with her. "Is it something Dorothy may
hear?"

"Certainly, if you wish. Already she knows part. Has she told you how
the twins came here?"

"Somebody told, I forget who. All of the young folks talked at once,
but I learned that they had been dropped on our premises, like a
couple of kittens somebody wished to lose."

"Exactly; and though he did not personally 'drop' them, the man who
most heartily wishes to lose them is miller Oliver Sands. They are his
most unwelcome grandchildren."

"Why, Cousin Seth!" "Why, Master!" cried the hearers, amazed.

"True. Their mother was Rose Sands, whom her father always
believed--or said--was ruined by the foolish name her mother gave her.
His sons were like himself and are, I believe, good men enough, though
tainted with their father's hardness."

"Hardness. That suave old Quaker! But you're right, and I never liked
him."

"Nor I, I'm sorry to say, but I don't wish to let that fact stand in
the way of fair judgment. The man is in trouble, deep trouble. I'm not
the only one who has noticed it. His behavior for awhile back has been
most peculiar. He neglects his business, leaves the fruit in his
vineyards and orchards to go to waste, and to his workmen's question:
'What shall we do next,' returns no answer. He has taken to roaming
about the country, calling at every house and inspecting each one and
its surroundings as if he were looking for something he c