isville. Then you can ship our household
effects through and find the trip a reasonably comfortable one."

Upon the completion of the railroad the little mountain city assumed
quite a metropolitan air. Many strangers came to town. This made
business; and Cornwall had as much to do as he could comfortably handle
and retain his position with the company.

While at breakfast on the 6th of July, he was handed a telegram
announcing his mother's arrival on the morning train. The hotel was
crowded, but he procured a comfortable room and made arrangements to
meet her with a carriage. Then he went to the office and worked until it
was time to drive to the station.

As he came out upon the platform the train pulled in; and his mother,
whom he had not seen for a year, waved to him from the rear platform. He
caught her in his arms and lifted her down, while she shed a few happy
tears and responded to his caresses. Then taking her hand baggage in one
hand and her arm with the other, he started towards the carriage.

"One moment, John; I beg your pardon, Dorothy. This is my son, John
Cornwall; and John, this is Miss Dorothy Durrett, a niece of Mrs.
Neal's. She is making her a visit and expects to remain during the
summer. We came all the way together. I met her just after the train
left the Louisville station; we had opposite berths last night and
breakfast in Pineville at the same table, so we are fairly well
acquainted."

"Miss Durrett I know your uncle very well and have met your aunt. I do
not see either of them here."

"I should have telegraphed, but am careless about such matters."

"I have a carriage at the door and lots of room; mother and I will be
glad to drive you to your uncle's."

"I have found your mother such agreeable company, I would like to
continue the journey with her, even to uncle's door."

The three walked to the street together, entered the carriage and drove
first to the Neal residence, where they left Miss Durrett, then to the
hotel.

Mrs. Cornwall liked the town. Its location on the river bank and the
sloping foothills of Pine Mountain, the murmur of the river, and the
quiet, practical lives of her neighbors, all fit into her idea of a
place to live. The yard and garden of the place her son had purchased
she found charming and in sweet concord with the river and the hills.
She was not a critical woman, but all she could say in favor of the
house was; "It is substantial and seemingly built to wit