o want to get to Newport before the season is over. But Floyd is
something to papa's will--executor, isn't it?--and we cannot have any
money until he takes it in hand."

"How long he has been away!" says Madame Lepelletier, with a soft
half-sigh. She would like to believe that she had something to do with
it, but the English wife stands rather in the way.

"Yes; he was coming home as soon as his little girl was born, but then
his wife died and he joined an exploring expedition, and has been
rambling about the world ever since, with no bother of anything. How
nice it must be to have plenty of money!" And Laura's sigh is in good
earnest.

"You are right there," adds Eugene, who is smoking out on the balcony.
"Floyd, old chap, is to be envied. I wish I had been Aunt Marcia's pet,
or even half favorite. Business is my utter detestation, I admit. I
must persuade Floyd to change about."

"And that makes me think of the wonderful changes here. Why, Grandon
Park is a perfect marvel of beauty, and I left it an almost wilderness.
I should never have known the place. But the location is really
magnificent. Ten years have improved it beyond all belief. I suppose
there is some very nice society?"

"In the summer, yes, and yet every one is anxious to get away," returns
Laura, with a short laugh.

Marcia joins the circle and the harmony seems broken. Madame
Lepelletier wonders why they so jar upon each other. She has been
trained to society's suavity, and they seem quite like young
barbarians.

Floyd and his mother talk a little at the lower end of the room, then
she proposes they shall take the library.

"Or better still," says he, "get a shawl and let us have a turn
outside. The moon is just coming up."

She obeys with alacrity. They cross the sloping lawn almost down to the
river's edge. Floyd lights a cigar, after learning that it will not be
disagreeable. He glances up and down the river, flecked here and there
with a drowsy sail or broken with the plash of oars. Over on the
opposite shore the rugged rocks rise frowningly, then break in
depressions, through which clumps of cedars shine black and shadowy.
Why, he has not seen much in Europe that can excel this! His heart
swells with a sense of possession. For the first time in his life his
very soul thrills with a far-reaching, divine sense of home.

"I am so glad to have you at last, Floyd," his mother says again,
remembering her own perplexities. "Nothing could be d