en you
come here to visit me this fall. Well, it was on
this level ground that we had the shooting-match
I'm going to tell you about, and where something
happened that I'll never, never forget as long as
I live."

While Don and Ed, assisted by the doughty Daniel, are at work setting up
the row of targets close to the base of the second hill, so that stray
bullets may be safely buried in the soft earth-wall, and while Dorry and
Charity are watching the boys from the shady summer-house, we may look
into Mr. Reed's study.

He is sitting in his arm-chair by the window, but the warm breeze
stealing through the closed blinds is not lulling him to repose; his
face is troubled, and he holds something in his hand which he is
studying intently, though it seems to give him no satisfaction. It is a
small gold chain or necklace, with an old-fashioned square clasp. On a
graceful mahogany stand close by are several articles carefully laid
together near an open box, as though he had been examining them also.
They were there when Donald knocked at the door, a few moments ago, to
ask his uncle to come up and see the arrangements for the
shooting-match. But Mr. Reed, without unlocking the door, had said he
was very busy, and begged Don to excuse him.

"Certainly, Uncle; but I'm sorry," Don had replied, and even while
trudging up the hill with the targets his mind had been busy.

"What is the matter? Something is troubling Uncle George yet. I've
noticed it very much of late. There's more to be told, and I must soon
have a good square talk with him about it. There's no use in putting it
off for ever.--We can't excuse him from the match though. Why, it would
spoil the whole thing not to have Uncle see it.--Wouldn't it, Dot?" he
asked aloud, as Dorry at that moment joined him.

"Wouldn't what?"

"Why, not to have Uncle here at the match."

"I don't understand," she said, looking puzzled.

"Why, the study door's locked and he's very busy. I was just thinking it
would be a great shame if he shouldn't come up this afternoon at all."

"What a ridiculous idea!" said Dorry, with a light laugh. "Why, of
course, Uncle will come. I'll bring him myself."

And she did.

Of all the merry company that came trooping up the green slope to the
shooting-range that afternoon, not a brighter, happier-looking pair was
seen than Mr. Reed and Dorry, as they joined the eager crowd of boys and
girls. T