he maple abroad and a second brood,
in a wild grape vine clambering over the well, was almost ready for
flight. The dust lay thick on the country roads, the days grew warmer;
summer was just poising to slip into fall, and Philip remained, coming
each day as if he had belonged there always.

One warm August afternoon Mrs. Comstock looked up from the ruffle on
which she was engaged to see a blue-coated messenger enter the gate.

"Is Philip Ammon here?" asked the boy.

"He is," said Mrs. Comstock.

"I have a message for him."

"He is in the woods back of the cabin. I will ring the bell. Do you know
if it is important?"

"Urgent," said the boy; "I rode hard."

Mrs. Comstock stepped to the back door and clanged the dinner bell
sharply, paused a second, and rang again. In a short time Philip and
Elnora ran down the path.

"Are you ill, mother?" cried Elnora.

Mrs. Comstock indicated the boy. "There is an important message for
Philip," she said.

He muttered an excuse and tore open the telegram. His colour faded
slightly. "I have to take the first train," he said. "My father is ill
and I am needed."

He handed the sheet to Elnora. "I have about two hours, as I remember
the trains north, but my things are all over Uncle Doc's house, so I
must go at once."

"Certainly," said Elnora, giving back the message. "Is there anything I
can do to help? Mother, bring Philip a glass of buttermilk to start on.
I will gather what you have here."

"Never mind. There is nothing of importance. I don't want to be
hampered. I'll send for it if I miss anything I need."

Philip drank the milk, said good-bye to Mrs. Comstock; thanked her for
all her kindness, and turned to Elnora.

"Will you walk to the edge of the Limberlost with me?" he asked. Elnora
assented. Mrs. Comstock followed to the gate, urged him to come again
soon, and repeated her good-bye. Then she went back to the arbour to
await Elnora's return. As she watched down the road she smiled softly.

"I had an idea he would speak to me first," she thought, "but this may
change things some. He hasn't time. Elnora will come back a happy girl,
and she has good reason. He is a model young man. Her lot will be very
different from mine."

She picked up her embroidery and began setting dainty precise little
stitches, possible only to certain women.

On the road Elnora spoke first. "I do hope it is nothing serious," she
said. "Is he usually strong?"

"Quite strong," said P