dity.

Of course no one could convince my mother that her son's "attractions"
might not prove sufficiently strong to make his "prospect" a
possibility, for to her I was not only a distinguished author, but a
"Good provider," something which outweighed literary attainment in a
home like ours.

She could not or would not speak of the girl as "Miss Taft," but
insisted upon calling her "Zuleema," and her mind was filled with plans
for making her at home.

Privately I was more concerned than I cared to show, and I would be
giving a false impression if I made light of my feeling at this time. I
spoke to mother jestingly in order to prevent her from building her
hopes on an unstable foundation.

In the midst of my busiest day I received a letter from my good friends,
Wallace and Tillie Heckman, and though I was but a clumsy farmer in all
affairs of the heart, I perceived enough of hidden meaning in their
invitation to visit Eagle's Nest, to give me pause even in the welter
of my plumbing. I replied at once accepting their hospitality, and on
Saturday took the train for Oregon to stay over Sunday at least.

Squire Heckman was good enough to meet me at the train, and as he drove
me up the hill to "Ganymede," which was his summer home, he said, "You
will breakfast with us, and as it is our custom to dine at the Camp on
Sunday we will take you with us and introduce you to the campers,
although most of them are known to you."

Mrs. Heckman, who was cordial in her welcome, informed me at breakfast
that Miss Taft was the volunteer stewardess of the Camp. "She is
expecting us to bring you to dinner to-day."

"As one of the Trustees of the Foundation, a tour of inspection is a
duty," I replied.

There was a faint smile on Mrs. Heckman's demure lips, but Wallace,
astute lawyer that he was, presented the bland face of a poker player.
Without a direct word being spoken I was made to understand that Miss
Taft was not indifferent to my coming, and when at half-past eleven we
started for Eagle's Nest I had a sense of committing myself to a
perilous campaign.

A walk of half a mile through a thick grove of oaks brought us out upon
a lovely, grassy knoll, which rose two hundred feet or more above the
Rock River, and from which a pleasing view of the valley opened to the
north as well as to the south. The camp consisted of a small kitchen
cabin, a dining tent, a group of cabins, and one or two rude studios to
which the joyous off-ha