Six o’clock came, but no travelers. Then an hour went by, and there came a telegram that the cars had broken down and would not probably arrive until late in the night, if indeed they did till morning. Greatly disappointed, the doctor, after dinner, took his leave, telling the girls they had better not sit up. Consequently, at a late hour they both retired, sleeping so soundly as not to near the noise outside the house; the banging of doors, the setting down of trunks, the tramp of feet, Mrs. Noah’s words of welcome, one pleasant voice which responded, and another more impatient one which sounded as if its owner were tired and cross. Agnes and Guy had come. As a whole, Agnes’ season at Saratoga had been rather disagreeable. Guy, it is true had been exceedingly kind. She had been flattered by brainless fops. She had heard herself called “that beautiful Mrs. Remington,” and “that charming young widow,” but no serious attentions had been paid, no millionaire had asked to be her second husband. If there had, she would have said yes, for Agnes was not averse to changing her state of widowhood. She liked the doctor, but if he did not propose, and some other body did, she should accept that other body, of course. This was her intention when she left Aikenside, and when she came back, it was with the determination to raise the siege at once, and compel the doctor to surrender. She knew he was not wealthy as she could wish, but his family were the Holbrooks, and as she positively liked him, she was prepared to waive the matter of money. In this state of mind it is not surprising that the morning of the return home she should listen with a troubled mind to Jessie’s rather exaggerated account of the number of times the doctor had been there, and the nice things he had said to her and Maddy. “He had visited them ever so much, staying ever so long. I know Maddy likes him; I do, anyway,” Jessie said, never dreaming of the passion she was exciting, jealousy of Maddy, hatred of Maddy, and a desire to be revenged on a girl whom Dr. Holbrook visited “ever so much.” What was she that he should care for her? A mere nothing—a child, whom Guy had taken up. Pity there was a Lucy Atherstone in the way of his making her mistress of Aikenside. It would be a pretty romance, Guy Remington and Grandpa Markham’s grandchild. Agnes was nervous and tired, and this helped to increase her anger toward the innocent girl. She would take immediate measures, she thought, to put the upstart down, and the sight of Flora laying the cloth for breakfast suggested to her the first step in teaching Maddy her place. “Flora,” she said, “I notice you are arranging the table for four. Have we company?” “Why, no, ma’am; there’s Mr. Guy, yourself, Miss Jessie, and Miss Clyde,” was Flora’s reply, while Agnes continued haughtily: “Remove Miss Clyde’s plate. No one allows their governess to eat with them.”