It was the custom of the family to partake of dinner farm style, in the large kitchen. The first bell, which Kitty rang daily, was for the family, the second summoned the farm hands. Glen and Stillwater, by chance, not by any intention of punctuality, emerged from the farm, just as the first bell resounded from the house. It was then that Glen thought fit to stop and utter a very vital question. "Mr. Stillwater, I want to ask you what you think of my chances with—with Indiana?" Glen was oblivious to the fact that he had not chosen a very propitious time or spot, to broach such a subject. The dinner bell had just sounded and Mr. Stillwater had been working since five o’clock that morning, to gain an appetite. Then, the mid-day sun poured down on them where they stood, and an Indiana sun is hot in May. "Your chances with Indiana?" The repetition was merely a subterfuge to gain time, as Indiana’s father had not the remotest idea how to answer her young suitor. Glen’s preference had been an open secret for a long time; but he had never openly broached the subject, not even to Indiana. "Yes!" "Oh—oh, I think they’re all right, my boy—why shouldn’t they be?" Stillwater looked about him as though challenging earth and heaven to contradict. "That’s exactly what I think," said Glen, grasping the other’s hand. "Why shouldn’t they be?" Stillwater’s heart sank as he looked into the young fellow’s glowing, hopeful eyes. He strongly suspected that Indiana would not accept her old playmate in the character of a lover. But he could not bring himself to tell Glen this. He felt deeply for the son of his oldest friend. "I’ve known her all her life, Mr. Stillwater," said Glen, as though this was a fact unknown to Stillwater. "Is that so, my boy?" said Stillwater, accepting the information seriously. "And it is my conviction that I understand her better than anyone living; better even than yourself!" "You do?" said Stillwater. "Well, that’s wonderful!" "It is, and that’s why I don’t see how Indiana could marry anyone else." "Anyone else but you?" repeated Stillwater with deference. "Precisely; anyone else but me. Can’t you see it yourself? A stranger wouldn’t understand her. He wouldn’t have the remotest idea how to treat her. I know all her faults." "Are you positive about that?" "Positive." "Well, it’s a great thing to know the worst beforehand." "Then I can rely on your co-operation in this matter, Mr. Stillwater?"