glasses and a great stone pitcher curiously molded. How the trees had
waved overhead and sifted golden gleams and shadows through! There had
been a bit of peerless blue sky, the sweetness of the grass, the soft
lap of the river that one could hear only when the talk stopped. How
beautiful it all was! That was God's world. And the long ride home, the
woods in solemn grandeur, the bits of river now and then. He was stirred
mysteriously. He was a new man.

Rachel still sat on the doorstep. Sometimes he came out, and, though
they said little, there was a pleasure in the nearness.

Penn Morgan returned from the great barn, where he and the hired man had
left things comfortable for the night. Anything was safe enough. No need
to lock or bolt in this Arcadian simplicity, except to keep cattle from
straying.

Penn told over his day's work and the morrow's plans and went to bed.
Rachel had not been knitting for some time, but she folded up her work
and passed in without a word. Friends of the stricter sort were as
careful of vain and idle words as the most rigid Puritan.

He missed something sorely to-night. It was the little girl who had
kissed him.

Two days later Madam Wetherill brought her over in the neatest attire,
with no furbelows or laces. Primrose had demurred somewhat. "Nay," said
Madam Wetherill with a consoling sound in her voice, "they would not
like it, and it is only for a few months. All the articles will be here
on thy return or in the city," smiling. "It will not be long and thou
must be a brave, good girl, and happy, too. Sometime thou wilt choose. A
hundred things may happen."

She ran down the path and said good-by to the nodding flowers. She was
sorry to part with Bella and Patty, and Casper and the great dog, and
the mother cat with the two kittens, and she was loath to leave the gay
chatter and the visions of the radiant young women who petted her now
and then. She was not afraid of Mistress Kent, though her tongue was
still sharp, and she kept her riding whip handy to give Casper and Joe,
the black boys, who were very full of frolic, a cut now and then.

The ride in the clumsy chaise was a silent one. Madam Wetherill was
surprised to find how the little one had crept into her heart. And she
was growing ever so much prettier, more like her mother. It was the
care, no doubt. They would let her get tanned and try to subdue the curl
in her lovely silken hair. The lady smiled oddly to herself, thinki