coast,
there was a house on almost every point and headland; but for all
this, there were great tracts of untenanted country, dark untouched
forests of spruces and firs, and shady coves where there seemed to be
deep water and proper moorings. The two passengers were on the watch
for landings and lookouts; in short, this lovely, lonely country was
being frankly appraised at its probable value for lumbering or for
building-lots and its relation to the real estate market. Just now
there appeared to be no citizens save crows and herons, the sun was
almost down behind some high hills in the west, and the Landing was in
sight not very far ahead.

"It is nearly twenty years since I came down here before," said the
younger of the two men, suddenly giving the conversation a personal
turn. "Just after I was out of college, at any rate. My father had
bought this point of land with the islands. I think he meant to come
and hunt in the autumn, and was misled by false accounts of deer and
moose. He sent me down to oversee something or other; I believe he had
some surveyors at work, and thought they had better be looked after;
so I got my chum Carew to come along, and we found plenty of trout,
and had a great time until he gave his ankle a bad sprain."

"What did you do then?" asked the elder man politely, keeping his eyes
on the shore.

"I stayed by, of course; I had nothing to do in those days," answered
Mr. Aldis. "It was one of those nice old-fashioned country
neighborhoods where there was plenty of fun among the younger
people,--sailing on moonlight nights, and haycart parties, and dances,
and all sorts of things. We used to go to prayer-meeting nine or ten
miles off, and sewing societies. I had hard work to get away! We made
excuse of Carew's ankle joint as long as we could, but he'd been all
right and going everywhere with the rest of us a fortnight before we
started. We waited until there was ice alongshore, I remember."

"Daniel R. Carew, was it, of the New York Stock Exchange?" asked the
listener. "He strikes you as being a very grave sort of person now;
doesn't like it if he finds anybody in his chair at the club, and all
that."

"I can stir him up," said Mr. Aldis confidently. "Poor old fellow, he
has had a good deal of trouble, one way and another. How the Landing
has grown up! Why, it's a good-sized little town!"

"I'm sorry it is so late," he added, after a long look at a farm on
the shore which they were passi