“Most assuredly, and there are heaps of them, as we say here. There are more girls than boys, for some reason. Really I don’t know of more than half a dozen marriageable young _men_ in this section.” “I suppose with so much land in sight they preempt a portion and marry to live upon, and secure it,” said Donald. “But who are the girls?” “Well, there are the Pemberton twins, who look so exactly alike you could never tell which was which,” continued Alice. “That sounds interesting! Two fair ones must be better than one. Shall I put a mem. in my note-book concerning them?” “It will not be necessary. You will see them soon enough, and will rarely see one without the other. They are quite the rage, and have cropped yellow curls, and milky blue eyes.” Donald lifted his eyebrows quizzically. “Lissa is such a fine word photographist, one can see their very image,” he said. “Come, Don, leave the women to their gossip and come with me,” said Nathan. “I want a history of the old home since you were here.” And the two men sauntered out into the night and the wonderful silence of the moonlit prairie. CHAPTER XVI AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE Among the visitors at Lissa’s home was one whom she at first received with scant hospitality, if not actual discourtesy. This was Professor Russell. How he had chanced to come to their neighborhood she never knew. He had accompanied her husband home from the post one evening, and the dismay she felt at the sight of him had not been easily disguised. Why he should have sought them was a question that often returned to her as the months brought frequent visits from him, sometimes prolonged into weeks of sojourn in the neighborhood. Sometimes for months nothing would be seen of him, then suddenly he would appear like a dangerous comet, bringing a feeling of uneasiness to Lissa, wherefore she could not have told. When inquired of as to his wanderings and uncertain appearances, he always said he had been in the East, but added no further account of himself. Lissa at first distrusted and disliked him instinctively. His bland, insinuating manner was thrown away upon her, she told herself. And yet she feared him too much to refuse him admittance to her home. Since that night when, at the house of Squire Bartram, he had so accurately described her brother-in-law’s encounter with the Sioux she had not doubted his power of divination or clairvoyance, or whatever the faculty might be termed. But it was an uncanny, unpleasant power, and she felt a shudder of superstitious terror whenever he approached her. She would have been glad of any justifiable pretext to keep him from visiting them, and was happy when the weeks would roll by without his appearing among them.