ss Margaret, do you think you'd better?" asked Elizabeth. "If
it's not a tramp--"

"Indeed, and he's no tramp!" broke in Polly, indignantly. "He's a
gentleman, if ever I see one, Miss Margaret; and him in lovely white
clothes and all, just like young Mr. Pennyfeather as was here last
year."

"Polly, will you learn to speak when you are spoken to, and not
interrupt your elders?" demanded Elizabeth. "If he's not a tramp, I was
saying, Miss Margaret, he's likely an agent of some kind, and why
should you be annoyed, with all the linen to go over? He can call again,
most likely."

Elizabeth spoke with some feeling under her grave and restrained words.
The examination of the house-linen was to her mind the most important
event of the week, and already they had been disturbed once by a sudden
incursion of the dogs, bringing a dead squirrel.

"No, Elizabeth," said Margaret, "I must go down. Tell the gentleman I
will be down directly, Polly; show him into the library, please. Dear
Elizabeth, you can finish the table-cloths just as well without me. You
always did it before I came."

"Not at all, Miss," said Elizabeth, with patient resignation; "you'll
find me in the sewing-room, Miss, whenever you are ready for me. It's
best that you should go over the things yourself, and then you will be
satisfied, and no mistakes made."

Margaret nodded, with a little inward sigh over the rigidity of
Elizabeth's ideal of a perfect housekeeper; patted her hair hurriedly to
make sure that it was neat, confirmed the pat by a glance in the
mirror, and went quickly down-stairs.

A tall, slender figure rose, leaning on a stick, as she entered the
library. "What a sad face!" was Margaret's first thought; but, when the
stranger smiled, it changed to "What a beautiful one!"

"Cousin Margaret?" said the young man, inquiringly.

"Yes--I am Margaret," said the girl. "But who--oh! are you--can it be
Peggy's Hugh? It is, I see. Oh, how do you do, Cousin? I am so very,
very glad to see you."

They shook hands cordially, scanning each other with earnest and
friendly eyes.

"I should have known you, of course, from your picture, if not from
Peggy's ardent descriptions," said Hugh Montfort.

"And I ought to have known you, surely," cried Margaret; "only, not
knowing you were in this part of the country, you see--"

"Uncle John did not get my letter? It ought to have reached him some
days ago. I was coming on to Cambridge, and wrote as soon as I