Whereat the driver unbent so far as to permit him to drive under the tree. Whatever his aunt thought about it, John thoroughly enjoyed the experience of that journey up the mountain road. But when the hotel broke first upon his sight he was a little disappointed by its unpretentious appearance. "It isn't very big. It's just like an ordinary house," he complained. "I expect you'll find there is room enough for you inside," Esme said. "Gimme my suit-case. I'll go and find out," John replied. The cart drew up before the entrance. John scrambled down and waited impatiently for his luggage. He had never owned a suit-case before. He insisted upon carrying it. This delayed the party. Esme was obliged to wait while the cart was unloaded, until John's baggage came to light and was given into his care. Declining assistance, he struggled with his burden manfully up the short path, and, flushed and a little short of breath, deposited it on the stoep with an air of satisfaction. Some one came forward and offered to carry it inside for him; but John was distrustful of these overtures. "I can manage," he said politely, to the amusement of a man who was seated on the stoep, "if you'll show me the way, please." Before following his conductor he looked round for his aunt and sister; and the man who had shown amusement looked in the same direction, and then stood up. John was not interested in the stranger's movements; he was anxious to go inside and unpack; but the others were so slow in coming. Mary had halted in the path to fondle an amazingly fat white cat. John was not keen on cats; he preferred a dog. He wished they would hurry up. "John," Mary's shrill voice called on a note of enthusiasm, "it's the darlingest thing, and it's called Snowflake." "Oh, _come_ on!" John returned. Mary came on at a run, and Esme followed leisurely. And then another delay occurred. John's patience was exhausted. Girls were all alike, he reflected scornfully; they made a fuss over everything they met. He did not understand why his aunt should stop to speak to the man who had been seated on the stoep, and who now stepped off the stoep and went to meet her. It seemed as though she had forgotten that he was waiting for her to go in with him. She had stopped still in the path and was talking to the man. She had forgotten John and his suit-case altogether; she had forgotten everything. The weary months of waiting had slipped out of the picture; the present had rolled back into the past. She was back in the old spot with the man beside her whose presence made for her the magic of the place. The ghosts which had met and mocked her on the journey were finally laid to rest. Hallam had come down the path quickly, and stood in front of her and blocked her way. She stood still, flushed and wondering, and looked at him with eyes which told a tale. "I began to think you hadn't come," he said.