eld, which is
almost forgotten by the big world, to settle down?"

"Why, he's the Colonel's friend," retorted the lawyer, stiffly.

"And Mary Louise is his daughter's friend," said Irene. "That accounts
for it, of course, and they couldn't have picked a prettier place.
Dorfield may be sleepy, and quiet, and half forgotten by the rest of
the big world, but it's simply delightful as a residence. Didn't
Colonel Hathaway choose it for a home? And the Colonel could afford to
live at the Waldorf-Astoria, if he wanted to."

"I know why you are pleased, Irene," remarked Aunt Hannah, smiling upon
her niece. "You're going to have another girl friend."

"She won't be as nice as Mary Louise, though," was the reply. "There's
no girl in the world as sweet and lovely as Mary Louise!"

"Or one that innocently gets into more trouble," declared Mr. Conant.

"That," said Aunt Hannah, "is because she can't let other people's
troubles alone."

CHAPTER XIV
HOME AGAIN

Mr. Conant, who was Colonel Hathaway's lawyer and confidential agent,
was at the train to meet his important client on his return to
Dorfield. The first to alight from the coach was the Colonel, who
greeted his lawyer with a cordial handclasp. Mary Louise kissed Peter
Conant upon his impassive cheek and presented him to a pretty young
girl who clung to her arm smiling, yet half bewildered by her arrival
in a strange town. There seemed no one else with the party and Mr.
Conant glanced over the crowd of passengers and said:

"Mr. Jones did not accompany you, then?"

"Why, yes; I suppose he's here," answered the Colonel carelessly. "I
believe he traveled another car."

"I don't see him anywhere," added Mary Louise. "I wonder if anyone
reminded him that this is the place to get off?"

"Never mind," said Alora; "if father can't keep track of himself, let
him go on to another station. I can't lose him for long, that's
certain."

"There he is, up ahead," announced Mara Louise. "He's quarreling with
his porter about something."

"To save the tip," suggested Alora, scornfully.

Mary Louise rushed to greet an old colorful man with snow-white hair,
who was picking up their hand baggage.

"Oh, Uncle Eben, I'm so glad to see again!" she exclaimed. "And how's
Aunt Sallie? And is my pony well? And are the goldfish still alive?
And----"

"Bress yo' soul, Ma'y Weeze!" said the delighted old servant,
"ev'body's well an' joyful to see you-all back ag'in."

The Colon