She was so absorbed in this entertaining exploration that she did not hear the distant closing of a door beyond the pine grove, nor the footsteps which presently came that way and paused, just beyond the orchard. Neither did she guess at the quiet approach of a tall figure through the mist, until it stood upon the edge of the garden. The first she knew of its presence was the sound of a familiar voice, speaking quietly so that it might not startle her, yet with a note of joy plainly perceptible through its control. "Can I believe my eyes--or am I dreaming that I see you, Sally Lane?" "Oh, Jarvis!" The cry was a startled one, in spite of his precaution. Then the blue figure flew toward the gray one in the shadow, both hands out, as Sally forgot everything except that here at last was one who seemed to belong to her own household. "My dear girl! When did you come? Have we missed getting a message?" Jarvis, meeting her more than half way, held the small hands tight, stooping to try to see into her face. "No, no--I didn't send any--I wanted to surprise you all. Uncle Tim decided to stop off in Washington for a week, and I couldn't bear to wait. He is perfectly well now, and said I might come on. So I came. I never dreamed that every one would be away." "It's a confounded mischance," his lips said heartily, but his thoughts added--"_for everybody but me_." He went on quickly, "You mustn't stay out here. How long have you been out?" He touched her hair. "Why, it's soaking wet. Come in, child." He kept firm hold of one hand and drew her with him in a rapid progress to the porch. The moment the light fell on her face he was expectantly studying it, and when he had her in the hall under the stronger rays he stood still and looked at her as if he wanted to make up for months of deprivation. She turned a rosy red under his scrutiny, her cheeks looking like moist but vivid flowers, drops of rain sparkling in her hair and clinging even to her lashes. "Come in by the fire and dry your hair," he commanded. She shook her head and drew away her hand. "No, I'll run up and dry everything at once." "You won't be all the evening about it?" he questioned, with suspicion, for her attitude suggested flight. "How can I tell?" The old mischief looked out of her eyes. He took a step toward her. "Come and get the first wet off by the fire," he urged. But, laughing, she fled up the stairs. "I didn't know he was such a distinguished-looking person," she was owning to herself as she ran along the upper hall. "Why, he's grown so much heavier and handsomer I'm actually afraid of him--it doesn't seem like the same Jarvis Burnside I've known so long. He's--he's--what Dorothy Chase would call stunning! I never supposed that farming would have that effect on anybody."