y even if he
wishes to do so, which is not very probable."

"I am not so sure of that," returned Mrs. Worthington, smoothing, with
her small, fat hands the bright worsted cloud she was knitting, a
feminine employment for which she had a weakness. "I am not so sure of
that. Suppose Hugh should fancy a person whose fortune was much larger
than the one left him by Uncle John, do you think he would let it pass
just for the sake of holding Spring Bank?"

"Perhaps not," 'Lina replied; "but there's no possible danger of any
one's fancying Hugh."

"And why not?" quickly interrupted the mother. "He has the kindest heart
in the world, and is certainly fine-looking if he would only dress
decently."

"I'm much obliged for your compliment, mother," Hugh said, laughingly,
as he stepped suddenly into the room and laid his hand caressingly on
his mother's head, thus showing that even he was not insensible to
flattery. "Have you heard that sound again?" he continued. "It wasn't
Tommie, for I found him asleep, and I've been all around the house, but
could discover nothing. The storm is beginning to abate, I think, and
the moon is trying to break through the clouds," and, going again to the
window, Hugh looked out into the yard, where the shrubbery and trees
were just discernible in the grayish light of the December moon. "That's
a big drift by the lower gate," he continued; "and queer shaped, too.
Come see, mother. Isn't that a shawl, or an apron, or something blowing
in the wind?"

Mrs. Worthington arose, and, joining her son, looked in the direction
indicated, where a garment of some kind was certainly fluttering in the
gale.

"It's something from the wash, I guess," she said. "I thought all the
time Hannah had better not hang out the clothes, as some of them were
sure to be lost."

This explanation was quite satisfactory to Mrs. Worthington, but that
strange drift by the gate troubled Hugh, and the signal above it seemed
to him like a signal of distress. Why should the snow drift there more
than elsewhere? He never knew it do so before. He had half a mind to
turn out the dogs, and see what that would do.

"Rover," he called, suddenly, as he advanced to the rear room, where,
among his older pets, was a huge Newfoundland, of great sagacity.
"Rover, Rover, I want you."

In an instant the whole pack were upon him, jumping and fawning, and
licking the hands which had never dealt them aught save kindness. It was
only Rover, how