here
the electric lamps were just sputtering into light.

"Ah," he cried turning toward her with a bow, "I'd begun to think you
had forgotten my unworthy presence on earth!"

"Not at all, Mr. Holton. I'm sorry, but my father is too much engaged to
see you to-day. If you really want to see him you can come in
to-morrow."

This was not what he had expected. Dismissal was in her tone rather more
than in her words. Their eyes met for a moment in the dim dusk and he
would have prolonged the contact; but she walked to the desk and stood
there, looking down at the copy of "Elia" which lay as she had left it
when he had interrupted her reading. She refused to be conscious of his
disappointment or to make amends for having caused him to wait
needlessly. He turned at the door.

"I hope I haven't put you to any inconvenience?" he remarked, but
without resentment.

"Not at all, Mr. Holton. Good-afternoon!"

"Good-day, Miss Kirkwood."

She listened until his step died away down the stair and then went out
and whistled for her father.

CHAPTER VIII

LISTENING HILL

The Holton farmhouse, a pretentious place in the day of Frederick
Holton's grandfather, was now habitable and that was the most that could
be said for it. When the second generation spurned the soil and became
urbanized, the residence was transformed from its primal state into a
country home, and the family called it "Listening Hill Farm." Its
austere parlor of the usual rural type was thrown together with the
living-room, the original fireplace was reconstructed, and running water
was pumped to the house by means of a windmill. The best of the old
furniture had been carried off to adorn the town house, so that when
Fred succeeded to the ownership it was a pretty bare and comfortless
place. Samuel had never lived there, though the farm had fallen to him
in the distribution of his father's estate; but he had farmed it at long
range, first from Montgomery, and latterly, and with decreasing success,
from Indianapolis after his removal to the capital. The year before
Fred's arrival no tenant had been willing to take it owing to the
impoverished state of the land.

Most of the farms in the neighborhood were owned by town people, and
operated by tenants. As for Fred, he knew little about agriculture. On
the Mexican plantation which his father and Uncle William had
controlled, he had learned nothing that was likely to prove of the
slightest value in his at