“I don’t care to speak disrespectfully of any one, daddy, but I will say that mamma was not to blame as much as others, in this foolish ambition to have me wedded to a title. I am not the sort of American girl to value old English laces and bric-`-brac, simply because they are old.” “How about your brain-worker, Ethel, that you once told me of?” asked her father, timidly. “That’s just it, daddy, I love him and can’t stop. I wrote him that you were on our side and told him to come, but he never answered my letter.” She sighed wearily, and her voice was plaintively low. “Well, I’ve had a great day,” she went on, “and here we are at home again.” As the father and daughter dismounted and walked up the terraced lawn toward the house, he said, “My little girl, you have made me very happy by giving me your confidence, and, under all circumstances, remember that I am, as you put it, always and forever on your side.” She pressed his hand affectionately. “All right, daddy,” said she, “I may put your promise to a severe test before long.” As they mounted the steps that led to the wide veranda, they found Mrs. Horton comfortably seated in an easy chair, entertaining Hugh Stanton and another gentleman. “Why, Mr. Stanton!” exclaimed Ethel, advancing and bidding him welcome, “you are such a stranger at the Grove that I hardly knew you in this uncertain light.” Mr. Horton grasped Hugh’s hand warmly. “At some other time,” said he, “I shall insist on your giving an account of yourself, and explaining your long absence from our home.” The girl stood face to face with Hugh’s friend. “Ethel,” said he, with trembling voice, “can you not bid me welcome?” “Oh, Jack!” cried she, advancing and placing both her hands in his, “a thousand welcomes. How surprised and glad I am to see you.” The touch of her hands and the responsive message of love from her eyes were more than Dr. Jack Redfield could stand. He caught her quickly in his arms and tenderly kissed her willing lips. Mrs. Horton was engaged for the moment in a conversation with Hugh, and had not noticed Ethel’s greeting of Doctor Redfield. Not so, however, with her father. “Oh, daddy,” said she, turning to him, “come and welcome Jack—I mean Doctor Redfield. He is my—my brain-worker; don’t you remember?” “Welcome, thrice welcome, Doctor Redfield,” said Mr. Horton, cordially, as he extended his hand with all the warmth of greeting of a frontiersman. That night when Hugh and Doctor Redfield were gone, Ethel excused herself and went to her room. She was humming an old love-song as she left the veranda, and seemed as lighthearted as some bird that had suddenly gained its freedom from a caged bondage. “Ethel seems to be very contented and happy over her ride,” observed Mrs. Horton. “I fancy, my dear, that there are other reasons,” replied her husband. “Indeed, how is that?” asked his wife. John Horton replied by inquiring about Doctor Redfield.