ng her luggage. Then the two
gentlemen emerged, Moffat bearing a grip-case, a bandbox, and a basket,
while McNeil supported a shawl-strap and a small trunk. Thus decorated
they meekly followed her lead up the narrow path toward the front door.
The latter opened suddenly, and Mrs. Herndon bounced forth with
vociferous welcome.

"Why, Phoebe Spencer, and have you really come! I did n't expect you
'd get along before next week. Oh, this seems too nice to see you
again; almost as good as going home to Vermont. You must be completely
tired out."

"Dear Aunt Lydia; of course I 'm glad to be here. But I 'm not in the
least tired. I 've had such a delightful trip." She glanced around
smilingly upon her perspiring cavaliers. "Oh, put those things down,
gentlemen--anywhere there on the grass; they can be carried in later.
It was so kind of you both."

"Hey, there!" sang out the driver, growing impatient, "if you two gents
are aimin' to go down town with this outfit, you'd better be pilin' in
lively, fer I can't stay here all day."

Moffat glanced furtively aside at McNeil, only to discover that
individual quietly seated on the trunk. He promptly dropped his own
grip.

"Drive on with your butcher's cart," he called out spitefully. "I
reckon it's no special honor to ride to town."

The pleasantly smiling young woman glanced from one to the other, her
eyes fairly dancing, as the lumbering coach disappeared through the red
dust.

"How very nice of you to remain," she exclaimed. "Aunt Lydia, I am so
anxious for you to meet my friends, Mr. Moffat and Mr. McNeil. They
have been so thoughtful and entertaining all the way up the Bear Water,
and they explained so many things that I did not understand."

She swept impulsively down toward them, both hands extended, the bright
glances of her eyes bestowed impartially.

"I cannot invite you to come into the house now," she exclaimed,
sweetly, "for I am almost like a stranger here myself, but I do hope
you will both of you call. I shall be so very lonely at first, and you
are my earliest acquaintances. You will promise, won't you?"

McNeil bowed, painfully clearing his throat, but Moffat succeeded in
expressing his pleasure with a well-rounded sentence.

"I felt sure you would. But now I must really say good-bye for this
time, and go in with Aunt Lydia. I know I must be getting horribly
burned out here in this hot sun. I shall always be so grateful to you
both."