home forever. But despite the narrow, neglected,
shady street, the slope of Shackamaxon went gently shelving to the edges
of long sunny wharves, nearly as in the day when Penn selected this
greensward to meet his Indian friends, and barter tools and promises for
forest levels and long rich valleys, now open to the sky and murmurous
with wheat and green potato vines.

Sitting before the inn door, on drowsy June afternoons, Duff Salter
heard the adzes ring and hammers smite the thousand bolt-heads on lofty
vessels, raised on mast-like scaffolds as if they meant to be launched
into the air and go cleared for yonder faintly tinted spectral moon,
which lingered so long by day, like the symbol of the Indian race,
departed but lambent in thoughtful memories. Duff had grown
superstitious; he came out of the inn door sidewise, that he might
always see that moon over his right shoulder for good luck.

One morning Andrew Zane appeared at the Treaty House before Duff Salter
had taken his julep, after the fashion of malarious Arkansas.

"Mr. Salter, it is all over. There is a baby at our house."

"Girl?"

"Just that!"

"I thought so," exclaimed Duff Salter. "It was truly mother's labor, and
ought to have been like Agnes. We will give her a toast."

"In nothing but water," spoke Andrew soberly. "I hope I have sown my
wild oats."

"I will imitate you," heartily responded Duff Salter; "for it occurred
to me in Arkansas that people shot and butchered each other so often
because they threw into empty stomachs a long tumbler of liquor and
leaves. You are well started, Andrew. Your father's and his partner's
estate will give you an income of $10,000. What will you do?"

"I have no idea whatever. My mind is not ready for business. My serious
experience has been followed by a sort of stupor--an inquiry, a detached
relation to everything."

"Let it be so awhile," answered the strong, gray-eyed man. "Such rests
are often medicine, as sleep is. The mind will find its true channel
some day."

"Can I be of service to you, Mr. Salter? Money would be a small return
of our obligations to you."

"No, I am independent. Too independent! I wish I had a wife."

"Ah! Agnes told me that besides seeing the baby when you came to the
house, little Mary Byerly would be there. She is well enough to be out,
and has lost her invalid brother."

"If you see me blush, Andrew," said Duff Salter, "you needn't tell of
it. I am in love with little Podg