along in Indian file they felt their feet sinking in the soft, rich earth. The old brick house, with its clustering great trees, loomed large before them, and a ruddy light from the library windows shone hospitably. The dogs ran yelping toward them as they crossed the lawn, old Rattler giving subdued whines of delight. The thoughts of both Sir Archy and Farebrother, all the way home, had been how delicious that twilight walk would have been with Letty, had only the other fellow been out of it.
When they got in the house there were letters—the mail only came twice a week, and Tom Battercake brought the letters and papers in a calico bag from the postoffice, eight miles off. Farebrother read his letters with a scowl. He had meant to stay a few days longer—in fact, he determined to stay as long as Sir Archy, if he could—but he discovered that he could not.
"Business," he said—"I am a working man, you know, and employers and contractors won't wait—so I shall have to take the boat to-morrow."
The Colonel and Miss Jemima were profuse in their regrets—Letty was civil and Sir
