As it was, he saw with intense mortification a bevy of girls come running out, each with something to say, and all at once--for, to conceal any little private feeling of her own, each one was as gay as possible. At last Hiram was forced to mount the wagon (the trunks filled all the vacant space, and, besides, were provokingly placed so that his seat was a most awkward one) and to drive away very unromantically, amid the adieus and railleries of the commingled voices. CHAPTER XVII. Freed from Hiram's disagreeable presence, Sarah Burns, as soon as her visitors had left, sat down to _think_; and she experienced, as I have already remarked, a species of relief. By degrees her spirits rose to their old, natural level, and then the fact struck her that they had not of late been so elastic and joyous as formerly. Presently she jumped up, and, snatching her hat, she resolved to run into the office, as she used to do in 'old times,' and surprise her father by a little visit. She tripped cheerfully out, and was soon at the office door. Here she paused. Her heart beat loudly, but it was with pleasure. Then she quietly opened the door and stepped in. 'Good morning, sir,' she exclaimed. 'Here is your old clerk back again.' She rushed up and gave him a kiss, and received a dozen in return. Mr. Burns used afterward to say it was the most blissful moment of his life. After that, how they enjoyed themselves!--like school children let loose. Sarah ran up, and down, and around the office, through the front room and the little room back, then in the closets, her father following, as much of a child as she--his heart also freed of a load, and his soul filled with sunshine--no Hiram Meeker to cast a baleful shadow over it. There were not any explanations between those two. Explanations were not in the least necessary. Each felt that all _was_ explained, and all was right and happy again. That was enough. After a while, some one came in to see Mr. Burns on business, and Sarah took her departure. With a light heart she retraced her steps toward home. She had reached the memorable corner where she once encountered Hiram--it was on his first visit to Burnsville--when, quite abruptly, as it seemed, a tall, handsome young man stood directly in her way. She stopped, of course; she could not do otherwise, unless she chose to run into the arms of the stranger. A pair of bright, dark eyes were turned inquiringly on her. 'I have found you at last,' said the young man, in a pleasant tone. 'I have just left your house. I did not think you would be out so early. And now that we do meet,' he continued, 'I perceive you don't know me: that is too bad!' Sarah stood like one in a trance. At first she thought the man was deranged; but he looked so handsome and so intelligent, she quickly abandoned that hypothesis. Then she began to think she was a little out of her wits herself. That seemed to her more probable.