her
with the news that Peyton, her beloved home, was completely destroyed
by fire. She had fainted. Young ladies usually fainted in those days
when overcome by emotion. How the friends and cousins rallied around
her with offers of assistance! They actually quarreled about her, so
eager were they for her to visit them.

"You must make your home with me."

"No, with me!"

"I must have part of her."

"My turn is next," and so on.

And then the owner of Buck Hill and his sweet wife had told her that
their home was hers and she was ever to feel as free to be there as
though she had been truly a daughter of the house. Then had begun the
years of visiting for Ann Peyton. Her father had died a few weeks
after the fire and later an only brother. She had more invitations to
visit than she knew what to do with. Billy had been welcome, too, and
there was always stable room for her horses and a place in the coach
house for her carriage, no matter where she visited.

How many years had passed since that evening in June when she had
stood in that spot and looked down on the crowd of young men and
women? She dared not count, but there was the grandson of that Robert
Bucknor, standing in the great hall and trying hard to pretend to be
interested in what a beautiful girl was saying to him. The beautiful
girl was the one who had made the remark about a fancy dress ball. The
grandson of Robert Bucknor had not heard her say it nor had he heard
his sister's cruel answer, as he had come into the hall the moment
afterward. Now he was plainly bored, but trying to conceal it. The
girl was chattering like a magpie. Suddenly Jeff looked up and saw
Miss Ann.

"Oh, Cousin Ann!" he cried, bounding up the steps, two at a time,
quite as his grandfather had done on that day so many, many years ago,
"how lovely you look! I'd like to dance a minuet with you." Then he
gave her his arm and escorted her down the stairs. Supper was
announced immediately and Jeff marched in with his aged cousin, much
to the chagrin of Mildred, who had planned otherwise for her
good-looking brother.

"Horrid old thing!" she said to Tom Harbison, who was dancing
attendance on her. "Grabbing Jeff that way! How does she expect the
men to go around if she takes one of the beaux?"

"And did you see her with flowers in her hair?" asked Nan in a stage
whisper. "Verbenas!" and then a fat boy who sang tenor and passed as
something of a wag sang: