g forward.

"Yes," said Lodloe; "are you going there?"

"I am," she answered.

Now in his heart Walter Lodloe blessed his guardian angel that she had
prompted him to make the announcement of his destination before he knew
where this lady was going.

"I am very glad to hear that," he said. "It seems odd that we should
happen to be going to the same place, and yet it is not so very odd,
after all, for people going to the Squirrel Inn must take this boat and
land at Romney, which is not on the railroad."

"The odd part of it is that so few people go to the Squirrel Inn," said
the lady.

"I did not know that," remarked Lodloe; "in fact I know very little
about the place. I have heard it spoken of, and it seems to be just the
quiet, restful place in which I can work. I am a literary man, and like
to work in the country."

"Do you know the Rockmores of Germantown?" asked Mrs. Cristie.

"I never heard of them," he answered.

"Well, then, you may as well stay on board this steamboat and go back
home in her," said Mrs. Cristie; "if you do not know the Rockmores of
Germantown Stephen Petter will not take you into his inn. I know all
about the place. I was there with my husband three years ago. Mr. Petter
is very particular about the guests he entertains. Several years ago,
when he opened the inn, the Rockmores of Germantown spent the summer
with him, and he was so impressed with them that he will not take
anybody unless they know the Rockmores of Germantown."

"He must be a ridiculous old crank," said Lodloe, drawing a camp-chair
near to the lady, and seating himself thereon.

"In one way he is not a crank," said Mrs. Cristie; "you can't turn him.
When he has made up his mind about anything, that matter is settled and
fixed just as if it were screwed down to the floor."

"From what I had been told," said the young man, "I supposed the
Squirrel Inn to be a free and easy place."

"It is, after you get there," said Mrs. Cristie, "and the situation and
the surroundings are beautiful, and the air is very healthful. My
husband was Captain Cristie of the navy. He was in bad health when he
went to the Squirrel Inn, but the air did him good, and if we had staid
all winter, as Stephen Petter wanted us to, it would have been a great
advantage to him. But when the weather grew cool we went to New York,
where my husband died early in the following December."

"I will take my chances with Stephen Petter," said Lodloe, after a