heir heads all he could do to keep them from going.
They chafed their bits, and stamped, and fretted at the delay, their
tiny feet eager to be speeding away. The master was going alone to meet
his darling. Springfield had no railway, and Salome was to arrive at
Lebanon, eighteen miles distant, by noon. Mr. Grundy came out arrayed in
his best, as though he was going to meet the Queen of England. His
strong old face was alight with a great happiness, as he bent and kissed
his wife, then leaped down the steps like a school-boy. He shouted back
his adieus to each of us; the negro on the front seat gathered up his
lines, and braced his feet; the negro standing at the head of the team
loosened his hold, and stepped swiftly to one side. There was a prancing
of slender limbs, a tossing of two black heads, and they were gone.
There were tears of joy in the eyes of the good woman at my side when I
looked at her.

"She's coming, Mr. Stone, and we're all so happy!"

That was all she could say. Her voice broke, and with a smile on her
sweet old face she turned away into the house to hide her emotion.

The day was a restless one for me. I took a book, and went down to a
rustic seat under an elm tree. But the book lay open on my crossed knees
without my eyes ever seeking its pages. I was thinking of Salome--of the
wonderful charm which made every one love her. Elderly women, married
women, I had known and liked, but school-girls were my especial
abomination. Truth to tell, I had never known any, and I did not want to
know any. Even this paragon I would have gladly escaped had there been a
way. But flight was impossible, and since I must meet her, it was quite
natural to wonder what she was like, and to brood upon the mystery of
her ensnaring all about her. I was ashamed of my restlessness. The
rustic chair grew uncomfortable, and I paced up and down. The damp grass
deadened the shine of my boots, and I walked back to the house and
summoned Inky to put them in shape again. Even this African's face was
beaming like a freshly polished stove, and I became almost irritated.

"What are you grinning about?" I demanded, as he bent to his work with
blacking and brush.

"Miss S'lome's comin' home, Marse," he panted, rolling his white eyes at
me in ecstasy.

"Are you very glad?" I continued.

"Yas,'r, I is. Miss Salome's jes' so sweet that honey can't tech 'er.
She picked a br'ar out 'n my foot once, Marse; out 'n my ugly, black
foot. An