less sure-footed than the others; she
clung to the young man's hand an imperceptible moment longer than need
be, or else he detained her. He found opportunity of saying, "It's so
pleasant seeing you again," adding, "all of you."

"Thank you," said the girl. "They must all be glad to have you at home
again."

Corey laughed.

"Well, I suppose they would be, if they were at home to have me. But
the fact is, there's nobody in the house but my father and myself, and
I'm only on my way to Bar Harbour."

"Oh! Are they there?"

"Yes; it seems to be the only place where my mother can get just the
combination of sea and mountain air that she wants."

"We go to Nantasket--it's convenient for papa; and I don't believe we
shall go anywhere else this summer, mamma's so taken up with building.
We do nothing but talk house; and Pen says we eat and sleep house. She
says it would be a sort of relief to go and live in tents for a while."

"She seems to have a good deal of humour," the young man ventured, upon
the slender evidence.

The others had gone to the back of the house a moment, to look at some
suggested change. Irene and Corey were left standing in the doorway.
A lovely light of happiness played over her face and etherealised its
delicious beauty. She had some ado to keep herself from smiling
outright, and the effort deepened the dimples in her cheeks; she
trembled a little, and the pendants shook in the tips of her pretty
ears.

The others came back directly, and they all descended the front steps
together. The Colonel was about to renew his invitation, but he caught
his wife's eye, and, without being able to interpret its warning
exactly, was able to arrest himself, and went about gathering up the
hitching-weight, while the young man handed the ladies into the
phaeton. Then he lifted his hat, and the ladies all bowed, and the
Laphams drove off, Irene's blue ribbons fluttering backward from her
hat, as if they were her clinging thoughts.

"So that's young Corey, is it?" said the Colonel, letting the stately
stepping, tall coupe horse make his way homeward at will with the
beach-wagon. "Well, he ain't a bad-looking fellow, and he's got a good,
fair and square, honest eye. But I don't see how a fellow like that,
that's had every advantage in this world, can hang round home and let
his father support him. Seems to me, if I had his health and his
education, I should want to strike out and do something for mysel