“Am I forgiven?” he asked, in an anxious whisper. “Hush,” she answered, “it is I who should ask that. But we’ll forgive each other.” She turned to Winthrop, who had arisen at their appearance, and Julian greeted Miss India. “What have you gentlemen been talking about for so long?” asked Holly, gayly. “Many things,” answered Winthrop. “Mr. Wayne was kind enough to express his regrets for my accident. Afterwards we discussed”――he paused and shot a whimsical glance at Julian’s uneasy countenance――“Southern customs, obsolete and otherwise.” “It sounds very uninteresting,” laughed Holly. Then――“Why, Uncle Ran hasn’t taken your horse around, Julian,” she exclaimed. “I didn’t call him. I am going right back.” “Nonsense, Julian, dinner is coming on the table now,” said Holly. “It’s much too warm to ride in the middle of the day,” said Miss India, decisively. “Tell Phœbe to lay another place, Holly.” Julian hesitated and shot a questioning glance at Winthrop. “You are quite right, Miss India,” said Winthrop. “This is no time to do twelve miles on horseback. You must command Mr. Wayne to remain. No one, I am sure, has ever dared disregard a command of yours.” “I’ll tell Phœbe and call Uncle Ran,” said Holly. But at the door she turned and looked across the garden. “Why, here is Uncle Major! We’re going to have a regular dinner party, Auntie.” The Major, very warm and somewhat breathless, was limping his way hurriedly around the rose-bed, his cane tapping the ground with unaccustomed force. “Good-morning, Miss India,” he called. “Good-morning, Holly; good-morning, gentlemen. Have you heard the news?” “Not a word of it,” cried Holly, darting to the steps and pulling him up. “Tell me quick!” The Major paused at the top of the little flight, removed his hat, wiped his moist forehead, and looked impressively about the circle. “The battleship _Maine_ was blown up last night in Havanna harbor by the damned――I beg your pardon, ladies――by the pesky Spaniards and nearly three hundred officers and men were killed.” “Oh!” said Holly, softly. “I never!” gasped Miss India. “It is known that the Spanish did it?” asked Winthrop, gravely. “There can be no doubt of it,” answered the Major. “They just got the news half an hour ago at the station and particulars are meager, but there’s no question about how it happened.” “But this,” cried Julian, “means――――!” “It means intervention at last!” said the Major. “And intervention means war, by Godfrey!” “War!” echoed Julian, eagerly. “And if it wasn’t for this da――this trifling leg of mine, I’d volunteer to-morrow,” declared the Major. “How awful!” sighed Miss India. “Think of all those sailors that are killed! I never did like the Spanish, Major.” “It may be,” said Winthrop, “that the accident will prove to have been caused by an explosion on board.”