“Elizabeth, have you a plan?” It was a question often asked by her brother. “Yes, I have a plan. To-morrow I am going to Gettysburg and I am going to call upon the old gentleman and ask him what is the matter with us.” “The old gentleman with the book?” “Yes.” “Why are you going to ask him?” “Because he is old and kind and because he probably knows all about the neighborhood. We seem to have some kind of a bar sinister on our escutcheon.” Herbert looked sidewise at Elizabeth. Thank fortune she could still joke! “If we committed murder or theft or any other base crime, I want to know it.” “Elizabeth!” protested Herbert. Then he asked a little faintly, “Don’t you want me to go with you?” Elizabeth’s eyes hardened. She had thought, of course, that Herbert would go with her. “No; it isn’t necessary. There is a great deal to be done at home and Joe will travel better with a light load.” Rising early, she called Herbert. The sun was up; it gilded the boles of the trees and turned the spider’s webs to silver. If the old house had been a beautiful belle, one might have said that the morning was her hour. The sunlight fell upon the fine, severe old façade, showing all its sturdy strength of design and workmanship and making glitter each tiny point of quartz in the stone. But Elizabeth did not think of its beauty. She prepared Herbert’s breakfast and also his lunch, then she climbed once more into the wagon. She did not remember until she reached the old gentleman’s house that she did not know his name. Fortunately he was on the porch and rose to greet her. He was, as his daughter had said, always finding interesting persons, and he was also frequently disappointed in them. Few young people, he mourned, were willing to put their minds upon anything for any length of time, even upon the history of their own country and neighborhood. “Good-morning,” he said, recalling at once the blue eyes which he had admired. “Well, did you sell all your wares?” “Yes,” answered Elizabeth. She proceeded at once to the business in hand. “My name is Elizabeth Scott. I have come to live in this neighborhood and I wished to ask some questions about its history.” The old gentleman beamed. “Sit down, sit down! My name is Thomas, and I am a crank about the history of this neighborhood.” “I heard some one speak on the street about Colonel Thomas--is that you?” The old gentleman nodded. “Pennsylvania is the most interesting State in the Union and this is its most interesting county. You will probably be sorry that you ever made my acquaintance, because, once started, I never stop.” Elizabeth smiled wistfully. “Oh, no!” But Colonel Thomas, upon whose lips volumes of information trembled, did not get far into the history of the county. He saw suddenly tears in Elizabeth’s blue eyes. “What is the matter?” he asked.