The invalid sank into the cushions of the couch with a pleased light in his eyes and said: “Son, this is all right. I’m glad you bought the farm,” and Michael turned with a look of love to the man who had been the only father he had ever known. It was good, good to be reconciled with him, and to know that he was on the road to health once more. The doctor who had come down with them looked about with satisfaction. “I don’t see but you are fixed,” he said to Endicott. “I wouldn’t mind being in your shoes myself. Wish I could stay and help you enjoy yourself. If I had a pair of children like those I’d give up work and come buy a farm alongside, and settle down for life.” The days at the farm passed in a sort of charmed existence for Starr and her father. Everything they needed seemed to come as if by magic. Every wish of Starr’s was anticipated, and she was waited upon devotedly by Lizzie, who never by so much as a look tried to win recognition. Starr, however, always keen in her remembrances, knew and appreciated this. After the first two days Michael was back and forth in the city. His business, which had been steadily growing before his temporary retirement from the world, had piled up and was awaiting his attention. His work in the alley called loudly for him every night, yet he managed to come down to the farm often and spent all his Sundays there. It was one Saturday evening about three weeks after their arrival at the farm, when they were all seated cosily in the living room of the cottage, the invalid resting on the couch in the shadow, Starr seated close beside him, the firelight glowing on her face, her hand in her father’s; and Michael by the table with, a fresh magazine which he was about to read to them, that a knock came at the door. Opening the door, Michael found Sam standing on the piazza, and another dark form huddled behind Him. “Come out here, can’t yer, Buck’s here!” whispered Sam. “Buck!” Michael spoke the word with a joyful ring that thrilled Starr’s heart with sympathy as she sat listening, her ears alert with interest. “I’m so glad! So glad!” said Michael’s voice again, vibrant with real welcome. “Come in, Buck, I’ve a friend in here who knows all about you. No, don’t be afraid. You’re perfectly safe. What? Through the windows? Well, we’ll turn the light out and sit in the firelight. You can go over in that corner by the fireplace. No one will see you. The shades are down.” Michael’s voice was low, and he stood within the doorway, but Starr, because she understood the need, heard every word. There was dissent in a low whisper outside, and then Sam’s voice growled, “Go on in, Buck, ef he says so.” and Buck reluctantly entered, followed by Sam.