Athol's sister, and almost Archie's too. Why couldn't I go?
We'll have our horses, of course."

"Lord bless my soul, are you counting on moving the whole of Woodbine up
yonder?" asked the Admiral in dismay.

"Why no, Uncle Athol, but of course we must take Snowdrift, Royal and
Apache," answered Beverly as a matter of course. Whereupon Archie and
Athol, standing just behind the Admiral, and Beverly fell upon each
other's necks. Such an idea as taking their horses with them had never
for a moment entered the boy's heads.

"Well, we'll see; We'll see," temporized the old gentleman, "No" seeming
to have been left out of the vocabulary he employed in speaking to
Beverly.

An hour was spent in discussing the subject pro and con and at its end
Admiral Seldon cried:

"Quit running on dead reckoning and tell Mammy Riah to pack our grips, for
your mother and I are off on the eight-thirty from Sprucy Branch and that
means stepping lively tomorrow morning, Mary. And I want Uncle Abel to
understand that the carriage is to be at the door at seven-thirty,--_not
nine-thirty_."

And so the die was cast. At seven-thirty the following morning the
carriage accompanied by the three most interested in what the verdict
would be upon its return, sped down the broad driveway, the leaves which
had fallen during the night crinkling beneath the wheels, the carriage
horses cutting all sorts of antics in sympathy with their saddle
companions cavorting beside them, for the young people were acting as
body guard.

It was not at all likely that the older people would return that night,
for train service was limited, so all preparations were made for an
overnight trip.

Bidding them good-by at the railway station Beverly, Athol and Archie
rode back to Woodbine, in no mood for one of their wild stampedes. The
real parting was too close at hand.

That day and evening seemed the longest to Beverly that she had ever
known. Archie was to spend the night at Woodbine, and Aunt Caroline,
Mammy Riah and Earl Queen, the butler, did their best to make up for the
absence of the heads of the house, but it surely was a sober little group
which sat down at the brightly polished mahogany dining table. Beverly in
her mother's seat, Athol in his uncle's and Archie as guest. Aunt
Caroline had sent up her daintiest preserves and had prepared a supper
"fitten' for a queen," she averred. Her fried chicken would have put
Delmonico's to shame and her hot waffles we