“Yes, Herbert!” Elizabeth looked up smilingly. Her voice was soft like his, but the words were briskly and firmly spoken. Briskness and firmness were two of Elizabeth’s most noticeable qualities. Those who opposed her called her firmness stubbornness. There was another quality expressed in her voice--an intense affection for the brother whom she addressed. “Aren’t you going to bed, Elizabeth?” “Not yet. Come and sit down.” Herbert dropped to the doorstep beside his sister. His motions still showed the effect of a long illness from which he had not entirely recovered. “Are you very tired, Herbert?” “Not very.” For a long time both were quiet. The old house seemed gradually to sink into the woodland which rose behind it against the wall of the higher mountains, the shadows of night crept over the miles of fields and orchards which dropped to the distant plain, the garden between the house and the road was blotted out, and the old oak trees on the other side came closer and closer. In the woods whip-poor-wills called, and once an owl flapped low above the doorstep. At that Herbert started and Elizabeth spoke reassuringly. “Nothing but an owl, dear! He looked like a great moth, didn’t he? Herbert, when we can, we must restore the old driveway. It used to come in from the road in a beautiful curve to the door. Then the garden can be moved, and I believe if we’d cut away that clump of poor trees we could sit here on our own doorstep and see Gettysburg. Think of it, Herbert!” “Yes,” said Herbert. His voice expressed pleasure, but a qualified pleasure. “I can’t make it seem _real_,” said Elizabeth. “If we can only succeed!” “Of course we shall succeed!” Any one listening to Elizabeth would have said “Of course!” “In the first place, we have this house, blessed, substantial old thing that it is, only occasionally occupied during forty years and yet habitable after a little mending of the roof. John Baring’s character can be seen in the way he built his house. I’m more proud of him every day. Then we have the acres and acres of woodland behind us, and our garden--think of the produce we have to sell to-morrow! And soon we shall have our orchard,--_our_ orchard, Herbert. They say that men within a few miles have sold a single crop for ten thousand dollars. It will mean work and saving and then comfort for all our lives. Why, we are the most fortunate people in the world!” Herbert looked back over his shoulder into the dark hall. At the other end a door opened against the black wall of the woodland. “Doesn’t it make you nervous to think of those men prowling round with their guns and dogs?” “Not at all. They’ll have to be warned away. I suppose they’re so used to roaming about that they think the place is theirs. I’m not so much afraid of them as I am of their big dogs running over the garden.” “What is that noise, Elizabeth?”