"I should imagine so," said Harlan, kindly, "though, as I have told you, I never knew him at all." "A much-misunderstood gentleman," continued Mr. Bradford, carefully wiping his spectacles. "My grief is too recent, at present, to enable me to discourse freely of his many virtues, but at some future time I shall hope to make you acquainted with your benefactor. He was my Colonel, and in serving under him in the war, I had an unusual opportunity to know him as he really was. May I ask, without intruding upon your private affairs, whether or not it is your intention to reside here permanently?" "We have not made up our minds," responded Harlan. "We shall stay here this Summer, anyway, as I have some work to do which can be done only in a quiet place." "Quiet!" muttered the old gentleman, "quiet place! If I might venture to suggest, I should think you would find any other season more agreeable for prolonged mental effort. In Summer there are distractions----" "Yes," put in Dorothy, "in Summer, one wants to be outdoors, and I am going to keep chickens and a cow, but my husband hopes to have his book finished by September." "His book!" repeated Mr. Bradford, in genuine astonishment. "Am I actually addressing an author?" He beamed upon Harlan in a way which that modest youth found positively disconcerting. "A would-be author only," laughed Harlan, the colour mounting to his temples. "I've done newspaper work heretofore, and now I'm going to try something else." "My dear sir," said Mr. Bradford, rising, "I must really beg the privilege of clasping your hand. It is a great honour for Judson Centre to have an author residing in its midst!" Taking pity upon Harlan, Dorothy hastened to change the subject. "We hope it may be," she observed, lightly, "and I wonder, Mr. Bradford, if you could not give me some good advice?" "I shall be delighted, my dear madam. Any knowledge I may possess is trebly at your service, for the sake of the distinguished author whose wife you have the honour to be, for the sake of your departed relative, who was my friend, my Colonel, and last, but not least, for your own sake." "It is only about a maid," said Dorothy. "A ---- my dear madam, I beg your pardon?" "A maid," repeated Dorothy; "a servant." "Oh! A hired girl, or more accurately, in the parlance of Judson Centre, the help. Do I understand that it is your desire to become an employer of help?" "It is," answered Dorothy, somewhat awed by the solemnity of his tone, "if help is to be found. I thought you might know where I could get some one."