He hoped in his heart she would never go away again. There were some promising beaux in the town. Of course she would marry. He wouldn't want his little girl to be an "old maid." She said a long prayer that night, it seemed as if there had never been so many things to pray for. Then she crawled into bed and cried softly, she did not know why. Did she wish herself back? Was it that the place had changed so much or was it all in her. Felix seemed such a big boy, good looking too, with beautiful dark eyes and a very rosy face much sunburned. His dark hair was a mass of clustering curls, they inherited that from their mother. But he talked with his mouth full, he clattered his knife and fork, dropped them occasionally, and asked more questions than one could answer in an hour. She looked up at her father and smiled her approval. He understood it was that. He had some gentlemanly ways and she was very glad that M. de Ronville had not been shocked by the rude manners that obtained largely in the town. Grandmere waited on the table for there was generally a second cooking. People had stout appetites in those days. It seemed to her the trees had grown, they were longer armed. And here was the pretty flower garden a-bloom now with marigolds, which were not field flowers. There were large balls of pale yellow and deep orange, bronze ones with a pile as if made of velvet. How beautiful they were. Not a weed was to be seen. It was a half-cloudy day, not dark or sullen, but with friendly gray under roof. She put on her sun-bonnet, her mother had it starched and ironed for her. Up at the back of the house it was still wild land, a sloping hill, a tangle of summer growth rhododendrons half smothered with it. She threaded her way up, then there was a long level of stubble turning brown. Far to the north vaster bulks loomed up. There was a great world beyond. What if some day it should be cities like Philadelphia. And--people, men and women living in pretty houses and having nice times. It was a beautiful world, too. There was the fragrance of wild grapes in the air, the sweetness of dying clover blooms and the rich autumnal smells. She drew long breaths and broke into song with the birds. Then she started and ran. How little the houses looked down there! "Oh," she cried in dismay as she ran through the open doorway, "is it dinner time. I've been up in the woods. It _is_ beautiful." Her mother looked up smilingly. She had been paring apples to dry and had a great tubful. They strung them on a cord and hung them out in the sunshine to dry. Grandmere had the dinner ready to dish up. "Oh, I could have been stringing the apples!" she said remorsefully. "And I've been way up the hill. I wondered if it would look so lovely to me. For the Schuylkill is like a dream, but our rivers are finer than the Delaware."