The Abandoned Farm CHAPTER I ALEX. MARSH Breakfast was late at the Marsh’s. It was usually late, and this morning it was later than usual. Alex. Marsh, his sister Amy and cousin Ruth had been to the opera the night before, and to Delmonico’s after it was over, so that it was one o’clock before they were home and in bed. And it was much later before Alex. was asleep. He did not care for operas, or music of any kind; a good play suited him better, and he had only gone to escort his sister and cousin and their friend, Miss Ross. Opera music had no charm for him, and he was feeling bored and wishing he was at home, and was listlessly looking over the house and counting the familiar faces by way of passing the time, when his attention was attracted to a box opposite the one in which he was sitting. It was occupied by a plain, old-fashioned looking couple, whom he had sometimes seen in the park, driving in a turnout as plain and old-fashioned as they were,—a covered buggy, with the top thrown back, and a white horse minus a check rein, and sporting a tail such as nature intended a horse to have, instead of a short stub, telling of cruel pain in the past and inconvenience when flies and gnats are clamoring for horse flesh. The couple seemed out of place in the park, and they seemed quite as much out of place in this box, whose price for an evening Alex. knew. “I wonder who the old duffers are and if they enjoy this sort of thing,” he was thinking, when a young girl came hurrying in and changed the aspect of the “duffers” at once. It would seem as if she had dropped something and stepped back to find it, for she held towards the woman a light, thin scarf with a smile and a nod, then, winding it around her neck, she sat down and began to look about her with an eagerness and curiosity which made Alex. think she was new to operas and probably to the city. “Some country cousin, I dare say,” he thought, as he watched her, fascinated by her fresh, young face, which one moment he decided was only rather pretty, and the next thought beautiful, with the smiles and dimples and bright brown eyes, which seemed to be taking in everything and to be delighted with it. The ladies in his box were in evening dress, too low in the neck and too high on the arms to suit his ideas. “I’ll speak to Amy and have her piece her gown up and down both before she wears it again,” he thought, as he looked at her, and then turned a second time to the girl.