“Well, you bet! and it or’to be, for Mr. McPherson spent piles of money on it while he lived. Got company there now, two of ’em—young men, I mean.” “Oh, has he come?” Rena asked, impulsively, thinking of Tom, while Irene said, under her breath, “Don’t give yourself away.” Sam could not hear the words, but something in Irene’s manner made him think that perhaps he was too familiar, and he at once turned his back to her. He would like to have told them of Nannie’s Well, as they were now on a rise of ground looking down to the pine-grove, but Irene’s face was not encouraging to further conversation, and he kept quiet, while Nixon urged on the horses to a pace which soon brought them to their destination, where Mrs. Parks stood ready to greet them. CHAPTER VI THE FIRST EVENING “Oh, what a cool, pleasant place! I shall like it here!” Rena exclaimed, her spirits rising as they drove up to the house with the big maple-trees in front, the honeysuckle climbing up the lattice, which shut off the rear of the house, the few roses still in bloom, with here and there a clump of peonies, which had not fallen to the ground, and tall stalks of tiger-lilies flaunting their gay colors in the sunshine. Irene said nothing. She was accustomed to old country houses. She was born in one with a slanting roof and she cared nothing for climbing honeysuckle and wild clematis and peonies and tiger-lilies. They were common and old-fashioned. The brick walls of a city suited her better, with the noise and traffic and heat. That was life; that was progress, and made her blood move faster than the finest rural scene. But Rena loved the country and everything pertaining to it. Even the ledge of rocks in the pasture opposite Mrs. Parks’, where the low huckleberry bushes were growing, was lovely in her eyes, which sparkled with excitement, as she sprang from the carriage and looked around. Irene alighted leisurely, assisted by Sam, while through the half-closed blind of my room Lottie and I watched the strangers and made our comments. There was no doubt in our minds that the tall, graceful blonde, carrying herself so proudly, was the Miss Burdick. Everything about her led to that conclusion. “She’s handsome, isn’t she?” Lottie said in a whisper, “and where in the world did they pick up Sam? and won’t you see him bringing Miss Burdick’s things up the walk just as polite as he can be? I wonder what she thinks of him. He has on his good clothes, anyway.” She was evidently proud of Sam, and proud that he was favored with the honor of waiting upon Miss Burdick. “I wonder where their baggage is?” she continued, and a moment after a truckman drove up with two large Saratoga trunks, marked “I. Burdick,” and a smaller one marked “Burdick.”