The walk was not a long one, for in about ten minutes they came in sight of a pretty log house, gabled and fancifully roofed, and of quite pretentious dimensions. Wide piazzas ran around its one story; and there were a few low, broad steps opposite the door. A man sat on them sewing a buckle on a leather strap, and he did not cease his employment or stand up as Peter and Rose reached him. "Is Mr. Van Hoosen in?" asked Peter. "Well, he is, and he isn't, sir. He was here an hour ago; but he's gone to ask a few trout to take supper with him. I'm Jim Laker. Sit down, both of you. Perhaps the lady would like to go inside." But Rose positively declined this offer, and the man brought her a rocking-chair and a glass of milk. Then Peter began to talk to Jim about the wild-flowers of the district, and Rose sat watching and waiting, and heart-sick with anxiety. "Mr. Van Hoosen is longer than usual." "I thought he'd be back an hour ago!" "'Pears like there must be something out of the ordinary!" Such were the explanations made every now and then, for the satisfaction of the visitors; and Rose had just begun to think Antony must have seen her, and slipped back to the woods, when a long, clear whistle was heard. "That's him! He's coming down the mountain. I reckon he'll find the door at the other side." With these words the man lifted his mended strap, and walked through the house to its opposite door. Peter followed him. "I am Mr. Van Hoosen's father, Jim," he said, and Jim answered with prompt good-nature, "I might have known. Your talk is just as likely." They met Antony as he entered the house, and their exclamations embraced each other: "Antony, my son! God bless you." "Father! Why, father! This is a happy surprise!" and the young man put his hands on his father's shoulders and kissed him. "Is anything wrong, father?" "Why not ask, is everything right? Right is as likely as wrong, is it not? There is some one on the front gallery, waiting to see you. I am going to the stable to look at your stock." "Do. The horses are pretty good. I'll come to you in a few minutes. Jim! Jim Laker! Here are the trout. Get us a good supper, as soon as you can." He was putting his rod and line in place, and hanging up his hat, as he spoke. Peter lingered, and looked at him wistfully; until Antony--running his fingers through his hair--turned to the front door; then he said: "As I told you, Antony, there is some one waiting to see you. I would not forget that '_His compassions fail not_,' and that '_His mercy is from everlasting to everlasting_.'"