Miss Warfield. A woman's
estimate in such a matter would, naturally, be more satisfying. He would
pay well, and Anne would be treated in every way as one of the family.
Marie-Louise might at first be a little difficult. But in the end, no
doubt, she would yield to tact and firmness.

And he was always devotedly, her old friend!

It had seemed to Nancy as she read that something gripped at her heart.
It was Anne's presence which had kept her from the black despair of
loneliness. Sulie was good and true, but she had no power to fill the
void made by Richard's absence. If Anne went away, they would be two old
women, gazing blankly into an empty future.

Yet it was Anne's opportunity. The opportunity which her soul had craved.
"To see new things and new people." And she was young and wanting much to
live. It would not be right or fair to hold her back.

She had, however, laid the letter aside. When Richard came she would talk
it over with him, and then they could talk to Anne. She tried to forget
it in the bustle of preparation, but it lay like a shadow in the back of
her mind, dimming the brightness of the days.

Everybody was busy. Milly and Sulie and Nancy seeded and chopped and
baked, and polished silver, and got out piles of linen, and made up beds,
and were all beautifully ready and swept and garnished when Uncle Rodman
arrived from Carroll and Brinsley from Baltimore.

The two old men came on the same train, and David brought them over from
Bower's behind big Ben. By the time they reached Crossroads, they had
dwelt upon old times and old friends and old loves until they were in the
warm and genial state of content which is age's recompense for the loss
of youthful ardors.

They were, indeed, three ancient Musketeers, who, untouched now by any
flame of great emotion, might adventure safely in a past of sentiment
from which they were separated by long years. But there had been a time
when passion had burned brightly for them all, even in gentle David, who
had loved Cynthia Warfield.

What wonder, then, if to these three Anne typified that past, and all it
meant to them, as she ran to meet them with her arms outflung to welcome
Uncle Rod.

She had them all presently safe on the hearth with the fire roaring, and
with Milly bringing them hot coffee, and Sulie and Nancy smiling in an
ecstasy of welcome.

"It is perfect," Anne said, "to have you all here--like this."

Yet deep in her heart she knew that it was