Elizabeth listened intently. Herbert often heard alarming noises. There was a soft rustle of leaves near at hand. “A deer, I guess,” she answered cheerfully, “or some other wild thing--nothing to hurt us, I’m sure. I cannot see why our people ever went away from here. Grandfather Baring was a man of standing--why, this must have been the finest place for miles around! Wait till we have a new portico and a little paint on the woodwork and some shrubbery! I should think mother would have been continually homesick.” “Did she ever say she was?” “No. When I asked her she used to tell me what she remembered hearing people say about the battle. She was not a talkative person. But all these years the taxes have been paid and there wasn’t even always a renter.” “Do you think she believed we should ever come back? Do you--” Herbert interrupted himself. “There is some one looking at us now!” “Where?” “There’s a man at the edge of the woods with a big dog and a gun!” Elizabeth turned her head. The moon had risen and its rays shone on a long object of bright steel. This object was not pointed in the direction of the two on the doorstep; it slanted backward from the shoulder which supported it, but it was none the less menacing. Elizabeth sprang up, a short, somewhat stocky, swiftly moving figure. “Well, neighbor!” she said loudly. “How are you this evening?” The man drew back into the shadows, but he was not to be allowed to slink away. Elizabeth went closer to him. “Aren’t you a neighbor?” she persisted. “Not close,” was the sullen answer. “Have you lived about here a long time?” “’Bout’s long as I’ve lived anywhere.” It was impossible to tell whether this was a humorous way of saying that he had lived here always, or whether it was meant to indicate that he was a wanderer. “We are going to stay here,” went on Elizabeth. “After a while when our orchard is set out, we shall need a good deal of help. Could you give us a hand sometimes?” “No.” “Do you know any one who could?” “No.” “We really belong here,” explained Elizabeth pleasantly. The stranger seemed startled. “What do you mean by that?” “This was our grandfather’s place. We were born in the West, but our people are gone, and so we have come back. We’re going to raise apples. The fields in front of the house are to be turned into an orchard.” It seemed that the stranger could take in but one thought at a time. “Your gran’paw lived here?” “Yes.” “What mought ’a’ been his name?” “John Baring was his name. Did you ever hear of him?” “I heard of him.” The answer, begun near at hand, receded into the shadows, as man and dog disappeared. Elizabeth returned to the doorstep. “I told him our pedigree and our intentions. If he had stayed a little longer, I should have told him to keep out of our woodland. Now, my dear, it’s time for bed.” Herbert rose stiffly. “Everything is ready, isn’t it, Elizabeth?”