Lord Canning watched her, jealous of the new expression on her face. He realized she was carried away by some recollection in which Glen held a part. "A boy-and-girl affair, probably," he thought. "There is always a boy-and-girl affair, but it seldom amounts to anything—very seldom." Glen joyfully recognized Indiana waving from the shore. "Looks as though she’d been standing watching for me ever so long, but that’s too much to expect." Burt rowed slowly in, while Glen waved his cap, gaily. Indiana ran down to the dock to meet him, slowly followed by Lord Canning. "Well, Glen, here you are at last!" "Glad to see me back, Indiana?" he asked, holding her hand, while Lord Canning stood discreetly in the background. "Cause—Lord Canning, this is Glen Masters, my old friend and playmate—the Right Honourable Thurston Ralph Canning, Viscount. Right?" "Perfectly." "Glen’s a character," continued Indiana, "he hates cities." "I do, sir," said Glen, rather aggressively. "But I’m not out of the swim. I keep myself thoroughly posted upon politics and literature of the world." "He fought in the Spanish-American war," said Indiana, putting her hand proudly on his shoulder. "And when it was over," laughed Glen, "I came, like Cincinnatus, back to the plow. My father’s been working a farm this spring for his health, and I’ve been helping him." "Character, brain, muscle," observed Lord Canning. "That is the stuff which has made the American nation what it is to-day." He extended his hand to Glen, who grasped it without enthusiasm. "Mail for me, Indiana?" "Yes, it’s all up in your room." He took his coat and several other things from the boat. "Did you have a nice time?" asked Indiana. "Oh, I’ll tell you all about it later. We had a fine time, lots of sport. I must go and shake hands with the folks now, and read my mail. See you later, sir." He swung his coat over his shoulder and saluted them, military fashion. "Will you take me for a walk, Miss Stillwater?" Indiana looked hesitatingly up at the camp. "Oh, perhaps you would prefer to stay and talk with your old playmate. Do as you feel inclined, Miss Stillwater." But he looked distinctively aggrieved. "Oh, no," said Indiana, carelessly. "There is plenty of time for that. He will tell us his experiences around the fire to-night. Where would you like to go?" "Oh, let us simply follow one of those little ’trails’ through the woods—one of those charming little trails, which one loses, and finds again, like a broken thread of thought, in the forest. There is always the murmur of some distant stream, which one vaguely hopes to reach—and sometimes a glimpse of blue sky through the dark pines." *CHAPTER X.* *The Might of the Falls* "She doesn’t look a day over thirty! Remarkable!" said Lord Stafford.