ore him where butter-cups speckled the
ground with golden blossoms, was a little group of four persons busily
engaged and wholly oblivious of the differences which divided the
masters of the two estates. The two mammies were seated side by side on
a bank, sewing and talking busily--their large aprons and caps making a
splotch of white against the green willows beyond--and in front of them
at a little distance a brown-haired boy of five and a yellow-ringleted
girl of three were at play on the turf, rolling over and over, shouting
and laughing in their glee.

As the father rested his eyes on the group, the frown which had for a
second lowered on his brow passed away and he pulled in his horse so as
not to disturb them. He was about to turn back and leave them in their
happiness when his black-eyed boy caught sight of him and ran toward
him, shouting for a ride and calling over his shoulder for "Luthy" to
"come on too." As there was no escape, Mr. Hampden went forward and,
ignoring the confusion of the mammies at being caught together, took
the boy up before him and gave him a ride up and down the meadow. Then
nothing else would do for Master Oliver but he "must take Luthy up,
too."

"Perhaps 'Luthy' may be afraid of the horse!" suggested Mr. Hampden with
a smile.

But far from it. Led by the little boy who had run to fetch her, she
came to Mr. Hampden as readily as his own son had done, and, though she
gave him one of those quick searching glances with which childhood reads
character, having made sure that he was friendly, she was no more afraid
of his horse than the boy was.

Oliver tried to lift her, and as he tugged at her, the father sat and
watched with a smile, then leant down and picked her up while the two
mammies gasped with mingled astonishment and fear.

"I tell you, she's pretty heavy," said the little boy.

"Indeed, she is," said the father, gaily.

Mr. Hampden would have taken his son home with him, but the latter
declined the invitation. He wished to "stay with Luthy." So, Mr.
Hampden, having first set the nurses' minds at ease by complimenting the
little girl in warm terms to her mammy, rode home alone with his face
set in deep reflection.

The breach between the Hampdens and the Draytons was nearer being
closed that evening than it had been in three generations, for as Oliver
Hampden rode up the bridle path across his fields, he heard behind him
the merry laughter of the two children in the quie