very sorry, but would you
call again to-morrow at twelve o'clock? and punctually she would be
here."

The maid smiled as one who had fairly accomplished the recital of her
lesson. Rhoda was stunned.

"Is Mrs. Ayrton at home?--Not at home?" she said.

"No: don't ye hear?" quoth the farmer, sternly.

"She had my letter--do you know?" Rhoda appealed to the maid.

"Oh, yes, Miss. A letter from the country."

"This morning?"

"Yes, Miss; this morning."

"And she has gone out? What time did she go out? When will she be in?"

Her father plucked at her dress. "Best not go making the young woman
repeat herself. She says, nobody's at home to ask us in. There's no more,
then, to trouble her for."

"At twelve o'clock to-morrow?" Rhoda faltered.

"Would you, if you please, call again at twelve o'clock to-morrow, and
punctually she would be here," said the maid.

The farmer hung his head and turned. Rhoda followed him from the garden.
She was immediately plied with queries and interjections of wonderment by
Miss Wicklow, and it was not until she said: "You saw him go out, didn't
you?--into the cab?" that Rhoda awakened to a meaning in her gabble.

Was it Dahlia's husband whom they had seen? And if so, why was Dahlia
away from her husband? She questioned in her heart, but not for an
answer, for she allowed no suspicions to live. The farmer led on with his
plodding country step, burdened shoulders, and ruddy-fowled, serious
face, not speaking to Rhoda, who had no desire to hear a word from him,
and let him be. Mary Ann steered him and called from behind the turnings
he was to take, while she speculated aloud to Rhoda upon the nature of
the business that had torn Dahlia from the house so inopportunely. At
last she announced that she knew what it was, but Rhoda failed to express
curiosity. Mary Ann was driven to whisper something about strange things
in the way of purchases. At that moment the farmer threw up his umbrella,
shouting for a cab, and Rhoda ran up to him,--

"Oh, father, why do we want to ride?"

"Yes, I tell ye!" said the farmer, chafing against his coat-collar.

"It is an expense, when we can walk, father."

"What do I care for th' expense? I shall ride." He roared again for a
cab, and one came that took them in; after which, the farmer, not being
spoken to, became gravely placid as before. They were put down at Boyne's
Bank. Anthony was on the look-out, and signalled them to stand away some
paces from