“No, Polly, don’t coax me. Not a bite to eat. I’ve just been riding along the river. And girls, that reminds me.” The Admiral sank into one of the deep-seated garden chairs, and held up his finger at them all mysteriously. “I have seen her again.” “The same girl?” asked Polly eagerly, bending forward and even forgetting the shortcake. “The same one. I never saw a girl ride so splendidly in all my life. She is the admiration of every one along the river road. I heard Senator Yates telling somebody about her at dinner last evening, and bless my heart, she isn’t any larger than Isabel here. Yet, she must be older, but she does not appear so mounted. I can always rely on meeting her Friday afternoons about this hour. Never have I seen her on the street, mind—but ride! Polly, if you could sit a horse like that, and take the road as she does, I’d—why, I don’t know what I would do as a reward of merit.” Polly leaned back, puzzled, and thinking hard. “I don’t see who it can be, girls. Grandfather says he sees her every Friday afternoon, and has for weeks this spring, and I don’t know her at all. Maybe it is a guest at one of the houses outside of Queen’s Ferry.” “Maybe it’s the ghost of the Lady Kathleen,” Ruth suggested gravely. “Don’t you remember her? “Along the dark highway, at night there is seen, The ghost of a horse and its rider, Kathleen. And when some stray traveler calls out a hail, Upon the bleak nightwind is borne back a wail.” “I think you made that up, Ruth,” Polly cried, merrily. “Is the Lady Kathleen blonde or brunette, grandfather dear?” “I should say she was rather sorrel,” remarked the Admiral judicially. “But I strongly advise this board of lady managers to discover her identity, and gather her into your circle. I can usually tell a thoroughbred, can’t I, Polly?” “What color are her eyes, Admiral Page?” asked Isabel. “Bless my heart, child, I did not get near enough for that. But if you will watch the river road about five any Friday afternoon, you will find her. Now, I must go and dress for dinner.” “How can we find out who she is?” asked Isabel, when the Admiral left them for his late stroll by the river. “I don’t know anybody around Queen’s Landing that looks like that.” “We’ll ask Miss Calvert on Monday,” Ruth declared. “She knows everybody who is anybody in this vicinity, and their pedigree back to the days when the first English ship sailed into Jamestown harbor. We must be going, Polly, and your shortcake was dandy. Next Friday it is my treat, girls. Don’t forget.” Polly walked with them to the tall green hedge that separated Glenwood from the road, and waved good-bye. Then she hurried back to the arbor, and called Stoney up from the garden. “I want the little green basket, Stoney, and a nice fresh pitcher of whipped cream, and then you and I will go for a walk up to the Hall.” Aunty Welcome’s turbaned head appeared at the side door as the two started away.