Elizabeth hastened to welcome her. Her cheeks glowed. Here was the sort of friendliness of which she had dreamed! Did the nurse know nothing about them, or didn’t she care what their grandfather was said to have done? “I’ve been up to see Old Mammy Sheldon, and she tells me some one made a will for her. I met the road-menders, and they told me where you lived. I’m going to stop some day to talk about those wretched people, if I may.” “You may, indeed!” “Next winter I’m going to have this side of the mountain for my bailiwick. I wonder whether you would take me to board and lodge?” The nurse, watching Elizabeth, thought with a start that she grew pale. “I will, indeed!” Elizabeth walked with her guest to the road and watched her out of sight. Then she stood still. She had been meaning for days to attend to an important errand. On a cross-road a half-mile below them lived the farmer who had been recommended to her to set out the orchard, and it was quite time that the bargain with him was made. Now, without returning for her hat, she walked down the road. She met the farmer at the entrance to his lane, and there stated her errand. She had not got farther than the first sentence when she saw that he knew who she was and that her request was in vain. “They tell me that you know all about setting out orchards.” The farmer shook his head. “Miss, I tell you how it was. My father lost everything in the war, even his own life. Then the Confederates came here and, thanks to John Baring, they found out all about us, and they took everything my mother had, all our money and stock, and they ruined our fields and gardens. I know it was part of war and all that. I forgive the soldiers. But I can’t forgive John Baring. I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I can’t work for you. I don’t believe I could stay in the neighborhood. Folks wouldn’t be friendly with me; that is the way it would work out. I know you’re all right, a good, law-abiding citizen, and I’m sorry for you. You see, the folks round here are afraid of the Baring stock, that’s the sum total of it. I _am_ sorry for you, young lady. Ain’t there any other place that you can live?” “I’ve talked to people about him,” said Elizabeth. “They all say he was considered to be a good man.” “Yes, I guess that’s right.” The farmer repeated his question. “Isn’t there any other place you could live, miss? I tell you why I ask. That place has a bad name. Nobody who ever rented it had good luck. They died, or they went crazy, or the men didn’t keep sober. You must know that it was empty most of the time.” “Why had it a bad name?” “Well, of course I don’t believe those things. But I’ve heard tell as how folks _saw_ John Baring wandering about. He had a long white beard and he--” “But he didn’t have a long white beard!” contradicted Elizabeth. “He wasn’t an old man, he wasn’t even middle-aged! It’s the mountaineers who go wandering about. They think the place is theirs.”