Long before
the farmhouse came in sight she began to scan the landscape for the
figure which had been so vividly impressed upon her mind.

The swift horses, well fed and well groomed, whirled the light wagon
along the road at a rapid pace and as they passed the humble home of the
Quaker, Pepeeta saw a little child driving the cows down the long lane,
and a woman moving quietly among the flowers in the garden; but David
himself was not to be seen.

"He has gone," she said to herself joyously.

On through the beech grove, around the turn of the road, into full view
of the bridge, they sped.

It was empty! And yet it was there that he had agreed to meet them!

A tear fell from her eye, and her chin quivered. With the utmost effort
of her will she could not repress these evidences of her disappointment,
and with a spasmodic motion she clutched the arm of the driver as if it
were that of Destiny and she could hold it back.

So sudden and so powerful was the grasp of her young hand, that it
turned the horses out of the road and all but upset the carriage.

With a violent jerk of the reins, the astonished driver pulled them
back, and exclaimed with an oath:

"You little wild cat, if you ever d-d-do that again, I will throw you
into the d-d-ditch!"

"Excuse me!" she answered humbly, cowering under his angry glances.

"What in the d-d-deuce is the matter?" he asked more kindly, seeing the
tears in her eyes.

"I do not know. I am nervous, I guess," she answered sadly.

"Nervous? P-p-pepeeta Aesculapius nervous? I thought her nerves were
m-m-made of steel? What is the m-m-matter?" he asked, looking at her
anxiously.

His gentleness calmed her, and she answered: "I am sorry to leave a
place where I have been so happy. Oh! why cannot we settle down
somewhere and stay? I get so tired of being always on the wing. Even the
birds have nests to rest in for a little while. Are we never going to
have a home?"

"Nonsense, child! What do we want with a h-h-home? It is better to be
always on the go. I want my liberty. It suits me best to fly through the
heavens like a hawk or swim the deep sea like a shark. A home would be a
p-p-prison. I should tramp back and forth in it like a polar bear in a
c-c-cage."

Pepeeta answered with a sigh.

"Cheer up, child," he cried in his hearty fashion. "Your voice sounds
like the squeak of a mouse! B-b-be gay! Be happy! How can you be sad on
a morning like this? Look at the play of the