"The country's lovely," said Patsy, glancing at the panorama as they mounted a slight elevation. "Are you sure, Uncle, that there is a house, or any place of refuge, on your farm?" asked Louise, in a mischievous tone. "Why, there's a rumor of a house, and the rumor says it's a hunker," replied Mr. Merrick, in a voice that betrayed a slight uneasiness. "Doubtless the house matches the farm," said Beth, calmly. "I imagine it has two rooms and a leaky roof. But never mind, girls. This has been a pleasant trip, and we can seek shelter elsewhere if the worst comes to the worst." "I guess the worst has come a'ready," observed the driver; "for the house is by odds the best part o' the Wegg farm. It's big enough fer a hotel, an' cost a lot o' money in its day. Seems like the lunatics all crowd to thet place--fust ol' Cap'n Wegg wasted of his substance on it, an' now----" He paused, perhaps fearing he might become personal in his remarks, and Uncle John coughed while the girls shrieked with laughter. Expecting nothing, they were amazed when they passed the orchard and the group of pines that had concealed the house and suddenly drew up beside the old-fashioned stile built into the rail fence. Every eye was instantly upon the quaint, roomy mansion, the grassy sward extending between it and the road, and the cosy and home-like setting of the outbuildings. "Here's Wegg's," said the liveryman. "Oh, Uncle," cried Beth; "how lovely!" Louise's pretty face was wreathed with smiles. Patsy drew in a long breath and scrambled out of the high seat. On the corner of the front porch stood Nora, arrayed in her neat gray gown and a cap. Her face was composed, but she felt herself trembling a little. Old Hucks came slowly down the steps to greet the company. Never in his memory had his dress been so immaculate. The queer old fellow seemed to appreciate this as he raised his smiling face from the stooped shoulders and poised it on one side like a sparrow. "Welcome home, sir," he said to Uncle John. "I'm Hucks, sir; Thomas Hucks," and without more words he proceeded to remove the satchels from the wagon. "Ah, yes," returned Mr. Merrick, cheered by the welcome and the smile of the old man. "I'd forgotten about you, but I'm glad you're here." "And that is my wife Nora, on the porch. She's the housekeeper, sir." And then, lowering his voice so that only the girls and Uncle John could hear, he added simply: "She's blind." Patsy walked straight up to the eager, pathetic figure of the woman and took her hand in a warm clasp. "I'm Patricia, Nora," she said, "and I'm sure we shall be friends." Beth followed her cousin's lead. "And I am Beth, Nora. Will you remember me?" "Surely, miss; by your voice," returned the old woman, beaming delightedly at these evidences of kindliness. "Here is another, Nora," said their cousin, in gentle tones. "I am Louise."