"I did not know he had a home," she answered. "I thought it was her'n.
But since you've mentioned it, I might as well say that it was about him
I came to see you. I heard that he came to town yesterday, and that her
carriage met him at the station, and drove him out to her house. I
hoped he had stopped a minute as he drove through your toll-gate, and
that you might have had a word with him, or at least a good look at him.
Mercy me!" she suddenly ejaculated, as a look of genuine disappointment
spread over her face; "I forgot. The coachman would have paid the toll
as he went to town, and there was no need of stoppin' as they went back.
I might have saved myself this trip."

The captain laughed. "It stands to reason that it might have been that
way," he said, "but it wasn't. He stopped, and I talked to him for about
five minutes."

The face of Miss Port now grew radiant, and she pulled her chair nearer
to Captain Asher. "Tell me," said she, "is he really anybody?"

"He is a good deal of a body," answered the captain. "I should say he is
pretty nearly six feet high, and of considerable bigness."

"Well!" exclaimed Miss Port, "I'd thought he was a little dried-up sort
of a mummy man that you might hang up on a nail and be sure you'd find
him when you got back. Did he talk?"

"Oh, yes," said the captain, "he talked a good deal."

"And what did he tell you?"

"He did not tell me anything, but he asked a lot of questions."

"What about?" said Miss Port quickly.

"Everything. Fishing, gunning, crops, weather, people."

"Well, well!" she exclaimed. "And don't you suppose his wife could have
told him all that, and she's been livin' here--this is the second
summer. Did he say how long he's goin' to stay?"

"No."

"And you didn't ask him?"

"I told you he asked the questions," replied the captain.

"Well, I wish I'd been here," Miss Port remarked fervently. "I'd got
something out of him."

"No doubt of that," thought the captain, but he did not say so.

"If he expects to pass himself off as just a common man," continued Miss
Port, "that's goin' to spend the rest of his summer here with his
family, he can't do it. He's first got to explain why he never came near
that young woman and her two babies for the whole of last summer, and,
so far as I've heard, he was never mentioned by her. I think, Captain
Asher, that for the sake of the neighborhood, if you don't care about
such things yourself, you might have made use of this opportunity. As
far as I know, you're the only person in or about Glenford that's spoke
to him."

The captain smiled. "Sometimes, I suppose," said he, "I don't say
enough, and sometimes I say too much, but--"

"Then I wish he'd struck you more on an average," interrupted Miss Port.
"But there's no use talkin' any more about it. I hired a horse and a
carriage and a boy to come out here this mornin' to ask you about that
man. And what's come of it? You haven't got a single thing to tell
anybody except that he's big."

The captain changed the subject again. "How is your father?" he asked.

"Pop's just the same as he always is," was the answer. "And now, as I
don't want to lose the whole of the seventy-five cents I've got to pay,
suppose you call in that niece of yours, and let me have a talk with
her. Perhaps I can get something interesting out of her."

The captain left the room, but he did not move with alacrity. He found
Olive with a book in a hammock at the back of the house. When he told
her his errand she sat up with a sudden bounce, her feet upon the
ground.

"Uncle," she said, "isn't that woman a horrid person?"

The captain was a merry-minded man, and he laughed. "It is pretty hard
for me to answer that question," said he; "suppose you go in and find
out for yourself."

Olive hesitated; she was a girl who had a very high opinion of herself
and a very low opinion of such a person as this Miss Port seemed to be.
Why should she go in and talk to her? Still undecided, she left the
hammock and made a few steps toward the house. Then, with a sudden
exclamation, she stopped and dropped her book.

"Buggy coming," she exclaimed, "and that thing is running to take the
toll!" With these words she started away with the speed of a colt.

An approaching buggy was on the road; Miss Maria Port, walking rapidly,
had nearly reached the back door of the tollhouse when Olive swept by
her so closely that the wind of her fluttering garments almost blew
away the breath of the elder woman.

"Seven cents!" cried Olive, standing in the covered doorway, but she
might have saved herself the trouble of repeating this formula, for the
man in the buggy was not near enough to hear her.

When Olive saw it was a man, she turned, and perceiving her uncle
approaching the tollhouse, she hurried by him up the garden path,
looking neither to the right nor to the left.

"A pretty girl that is of yours!" exclaimed Miss Port. "She might just
as well have slapped me in the face!"

"But what were you going to do in here?" asked Captain Asher. "You know
that's against the rules."

"The rules be bothered," replied the irate Maria. "I thought it was Mr.
Smiley. He's been away from his parish for a week, and there are a good
many things I want to ask him."

"Well, it is the Roman Catholic priest from Marlinsville," said Captain
Asher, "and he wouldn't tell you anything if you asked him."

The captain had a cheerful little chat with the priest, who was one of
his most valued road friends; and when he returned to his garden he
found Miss Port walking up and down the main path in a state of
agitation.

"I should think," said she, "that the company would have something to
say about your takin' up your time talkin' to people on the road. I've
heard that sometimes they get out, and spend hours talkin' and smokin'
with you. I guess that's against the rules."

"It is all right between the company and me," replied the captain. "You
know I am a stockholder in a small way."

"You are!" exclaimed Miss Port. "Well, I've got somethin' by comin'
here, anyway." Stowing away this bit of information in regard to the
captain's resources in her mind for future consideration, she continued:
"I don't think much of that niece of your'n. Has she never lived
anywhere where the people had good manners?"

Olive, who had gone to her room in order to be out of the way of this
queer visitor, now sat by an upper window, and it was impossible that
she should fail to hear this remark, made by Miss Port in her most
querulous tones. Olive immediately left the window, and sat down on the
other side of the room.

"Good manners!" she ejaculated, and fell to thinking. Her present
situation had suddenly presented itself to her in a very different light
from that in which she had previously regarded it. She was living in a
very plain house in a very plain way, with a very plain uncle who kept a
tollhouse; but she liked him; and, until this moment, she had liked the
life. But now she asked herself if it were possible for her longer to
endure it if she were to be condemned to intercourse with people like
that thing down in the garden. If her uncle's other friends in Glenford
were of that grade she could not stay here. She smiled in spite of her
irritation as she thought of the woman's words--"Anywhere where the
people had good manners."

Good manners, indeed! She remembered the titled young officers in
Germany with whom she had talked and danced when she was but seventeen
years old, and who used to send her flowers. She remembered the people
of rank in the army and navy and in the state who used to invite her
mother and herself to their houses. She remembered the royal prince who
had wished to be presented to her, and whose acquaintance she had
declined because she did not like what she had heard of him. She
remembered the good friends of her father in Europe and America, ladies
and gentlemen of the army and navy. She remembered the society in which
she had mingled when living with her Boston aunt during the past winter.
Then she thought of Miss Port's question. Good manners, indeed!

"Well," said the perturbed Maria, after having been informed by the
captain that his niece was accustomed to move in the best circles, "I
don't want to go into the house again, for if I was to meet her, I'm
sure I couldn't keep my temper. But I'll say this to you, Captain Asher,
that I pity the woman that's her guardeen. And now, if you'll help my
boy turn round so he won't upset the carriage, I'll be goin'. But before
I go I'll just say this, that if you'd been in the habit of takin'
advantage of the chances that come to you, I believe that you'd be a
good deal better off than you are now, even if you do own shares in the
turnpike company."

It was not difficult for the captain to recognize some of the chances to
which she alluded; one of them she herself had offered him several
times.

"Oh, I am very well off as I am," he answered, "but perhaps some day I
may have something to tell you of the Easterfields and about their
doings up on the mountain."

"About her doin's, you might as well say," retorted Miss Port. "No
matter what you tell me, I don't believe a word about his ever doin'
anything." With this she walked to the little phaeton, into which the
captain helped her.

"Uncle John," said Olive, a few minutes later, "are there many people
like that in Glenford?"

"My dear child," said the captain, "the people in Glenford, the most of
them, I mean, are just as nice people as you would want to meet. They
are ladies and gentlemen, and they are mighty good company. They don't
often come out here, to be sure, but I know most of them, and I ought to
be ashamed of myself that I have not made you acquainted with them
before this. As to Maria Port, there is only one of her in Glenford,
and, so far as I know, there isn't another just like her in the whole
world. Now I come to think of it," he continued, "I wonder why some of
the young people have not come out to call on you. But if that Maria
Port has been going around telling them that you are a little girl in
short frocks it is not so surprising."

"Oh, don't bother yourself, Uncle John, about calls and society," said
Olive. "If you can only manage that that woman takes the shunpike
whenever she drives this way, I shall be perfectly satisfied with
everything just as it is."




_CHAPTER III_

_Mrs. Easterfield._


On the side of the mountain, a few miles to the west of the gap to which
the turnpike stretched itself, there was a large estate and a large
house which had once belonged to the Sudley family. For a hundred years
or more the Sudleys had been important people in this part of the
country, but it had been at least two decades since any of them had
lived on this estate. Some of them had gone to cities and towns, and
others had married, or in some other fashion had melted away so that
their old home knew them no more.

Although it was situated on the borders of the Southern country, the
house, which was known as Broadstone, from the fact that a great flat
rock on the level of the surrounding turf extended itself for many feet
at the front of the principal entrance, was not constructed after
ordinary Southern fashions. Some of the early Sudleys were of English
blood and proclivities, and so it was partly like an English house; some
of them had taken Continental ideas into the family, and there was a
certain solidity about the walls; while here and there the narrowness of
the windows suggested southern Europe. Some parts of the great stone
walls had been stuccoed, and some had been whitewashed. Here and there
vines climbed up the walls and stretched themselves under the eaves. As
the house stood on a wide bluff, there was a lawn from which one could
see over the tree tops the winding river sparkling far below. There were
gardens and fields on the open slopes, and beyond these the forests rose
to the top of the mountains.

The ceilings of the house were high, and the halls and rooms were wide
and airy; the trees on the edge of the woods seemed always to be
rustling in a wind from one direction or another, and a lady; Mrs.
Easterfield; who several years before had been traveling in that part of
the country; declared that Broadstone was the most delightful place for
a summer residence that she had ever seen, either in this country or
across the ocean. So, with the consent and money of her husband, she had
bought the estate the summer before the time of our story, and had gone
there to live.

Mr. Easterfield was what is known as a railroad man, and held high
office in many companies and organizations. When his wife first went to
Broadstone he was obliged to spend the summer in Europe, and had agreed
with her that the estate on the mountains would be the best place for
her and the two little girls while he was away. This state of affairs
had occasioned a good deal of talk, especially in Glenford, a town with
which the Easterfields had but little to do, and which therefore had
theorized much in order to explain to its own satisfaction the conduct
of a comparatively young married woman who was evidently rich enough to
spend her summers at any of the most fashionable watering-places, but
who chose to go with her young family to that old barracks of a house,
and who had a husband who never came near her or his children, and who,
so far as the Glenford people knew, she never mentioned.

Mrs. Margaret Easterfield was a very fine woman, both to look at and to
talk to, but she did not believe that her duty to her fellow-beings
demanded that she should devote her first summer months at her new place
to the gratification of the eyes and ears of her friends and
acquaintances, so she had gone to Broadstone with her family--all
females--with servants enough, and for the whole of the summer they had
all been very happy.

But this summer things were going to be a little different at
Broadstone, for Mrs. Easterfield had arranged for some house parties.
Her husband was very kind and considerate about her plans, and promised
her that he would make one of the good company at Broadstone whenever it
was possible for him to do so.

So now it happened that he had come to see his wife and children and the
house in which they lived; and, having had some business at a railroad
center in the South, he had come through Glenford, which was unusual, as
the intercourse between Broadstone and the great world was generally
maintained through the gap in the mountains.

With his wife by his side and a little girl on each shoulder, Mr. Tom
Easterfield walked through the grounds and the gardens and out on the
lawn, and looked down over the tops of the trees upon the river which
sparkled far below, and he said to his wife that if she would let him do
it he would send a landscape-gardener, with a great company of Italians,
and they would make the place a perfect paradise in about five days.

"It could be ruined a great deal quicker by an army of locusts," she
said, "and so, if you do not mind, I think I will wait for the locusts."

It was not time yet for any of the members of the house parties to make
their appearance, and it was the general desire of his family that Mr.
Easterfield should remain until some of the visitors arrived, but he
could not gratify them. Three days after his arrival he was obliged to
be in Atlanta; and so, soon after breakfast one fine morning, the
Easterfield carriage drove over the turnpike to the Glenford station,
Mr. and Mrs. Easterfield on the back seat, and the two little girls
sitting opposite, their feet sticking out straight in front of them.

When they stopped at the toll-gate Captain Asher came down to collect
the toll--ten cents for two horses and a carriage. Olive was sitting in
the little arbor, reading. She had noticed the approaching equipage and
saw that there was a lady in it, but for some reason or other she was
not so anxious as she had been to collect toll from ladies. If she could
have arranged the matter to suit herself she would have taken toll from
the male travelers, and her Uncle John might attend to the women; she
did not believe that men would have such absurd ideas about people or
ask ridiculous questions.

There was no conversation at the gate on this occasion, for the
carriage was a little late, but as it rolled on Mrs. Margaret said to
Mr. Tom:

"It seems to me as though I have just had a glimpse of Dresden. What do
you suppose could have suggested that city to me?"

Mr. Tom could not imagine, unless it was the dust. She laughed, and said
that he had dust and ballast and railroads on the brain; and when the
oldest little girl asked what that meant, Mrs. Margaret told her that
the next time her father came home she would make him sit down on the
floor and then she would draw on that great bald spot of his head, which
they had so often noticed, a map of the railroad lines in which he was
concerned, and then his daughters would understand why he was always
thinking of railroad-tracks and that sort of thing with the inside of
his head, which, as she had told them, was that part of a person with
which he did his thinking.

"Don't they sell some sort of annual or monthly tickets for this
turnpike?" asked Mr. Tom. "If they do, you would save yourself the
trouble of stopping to pay toll and make change."

"I so seldom use this road," she said, "that it would not be worth
while. One does not stop on returning, you know."

But notwithstanding this speech, when Mrs. Easterfield returned from the
Glenford station, one little girl sitting beside her and the other one
opposite, both of them with their feet sticking out, she ordered her
coachman to stop when he reached the toll-gate.

Olive was still sitting in the arbor, reading. The captain was not
visible, and the wooden-faced Jane, noticing that the travelers were a
lady and two little girls, did not consider that she had any right to
interfere with Miss Olive's prerogatives; so that young lady felt
obliged to go to the toll-gate to see what was wanted.

"You know you do not have to pay going back," she said.

"I know that," answered Mrs. Easterfield, "but I want to ask about
tickets or monthly payments of toll, or whatever your arrangements are
for that sort of thing."

"I really do not know," said Olive, "but I will go and ask about it."

"But stop one minute," exclaimed Mrs. Easterfield, leaning over the side
of the carriage. "Is it your father who keeps this toll-gate?"

For some reason or other which she could not have explained to herself,
Olive felt that it was incumbent upon her to assert herself, and she
answered: "Oh, no, indeed. My father is Lieutenant-Commander Alfred
Asher, of the cruiser Hopatcong."

Without another word Mrs. Easterfield pushed open the door of the
carriage and stepped to the ground, exclaiming: "As I passed this
morning I knew there was something about this place that brought back to
my mind old times and old friends, and now I see what it was; it was
you. I caught but one glimpse of you and I did not know you. But it was
enough. I knew your father very well when I was a girl, and later I was
with him and your mother in Dresden. You were a girl of twelve or
thirteen, going to school, and I never saw much of you. But it is either
your father or your mother that I saw in your face as you sat in that
arbor, and I knew the face, although I did not know who owned it. I am
Mrs. Easterfield, but that will not help you to know me, for I was not
married when I knew your father."

Olive's eyes sparkled as she took the two hands extended to her. "I
don't remember you at all," she said, "but if you are the friend of my
father and mother--"

"Then I am to be your friend, isn't it?" interrupted Mrs. Easterfield.

"I hope so," answered Olive.

"Now, then," said Mrs. Easterfield, "I want you to tell me how in the
world you come to be here."

There were two stools in the tollhouse, and Olive, having invited her
visitor to seat herself on the better one, took the other, and told Mrs.
Easterfield how she happened to be there.

"And that handsome elderly man who took the toll this morning is your
uncle?"

"Yes, my father's only brother," said Olive.

"A good deal older," said Mrs. Easterfield.

"Oh, yes, but I do not know how much."

"And you call him captain. Was he also in the navy?"

"No," said Olive, "he was in the merchant service, and has retired. It
seems queer that he should be keeping a toll-gate, but my father has
often told me that Uncle John does not care for appearances, and likes
to do things that please him. He likes to keep the tollhouse because it
brings him in touch with the world."

"Very sensible in him," said Mrs. Easterfield. "I think I would like to
keep a toll-gate myself."

Captain Asher had seen the carriage stop, and knew that Mrs. Easterfield
was talking to Olive, but he did not think himself called upon to
intrude upon them. But now it was necessary for him to go to the
tollhouse. Two men in a buggy with a broken spring and a coffee bag laid
over the loins of an imperfectly set-up horse had been waiting for
nearly a minute behind Mrs. Easterfield's carriage, desiring to pay
their toll and pass through. So the captain went out of the garden-gate,
collected the toll from the two men, and directed them to go round the
carriage and pass on in peace, which they did.

Then Mrs. Easterfield rose from her stool, and approached the tollhouse
door, and, as a matter of course, the captain was obliged to step
forward and meet her. Olive introduced him to the lady, who shook hands
with him very cordially.

"I have found the daughter of an old friend," said she, and then they
all went into the tollhouse again, where the two ladies reseated
themselves, and after some explanatory remarks Mrs. Easterfield said:

"Now, Captain Asher, I must not stay here blocking up your toll-gate all
the morning, but I want to ask of you a very great favor. I want you to
let your niece come and make me a visit. I want a good visit--at least
ten days. You must remember that her father and I, and her mother, too,
were very good friends. Now there are so many things I want to talk over
with Miss Olive, and I am sure you will let me have her just for ten
short days. There are no guests at Broadstone yet, and I want her. You
do not know how much I want her."

Captain Asher stood up tall and strong, his broad shoulders resting
against the frame of the open doorway. It was a positive delight to him
to stand thus and look at such a beautiful woman. So far as he could
see, there was nothing about her with which to find fault. If she had
been a ship he would have said that her lines were perfect, spars and
rigging just as he would have them. In addition to her other
perfections, she was large enough. The captain considered himself an
excellent judge of female beauty, and he had noticed that a great many
fine women were too small. With Olive's personal appearance he was
perfectly satisfied, although she was slight, but she was young, and
would probably expand. If he had had a daughter he would have liked her
to resemble Mrs. Easterfield, but that feeling did not militate in the
least against Olive. In his mind it was not necessary for a niece to be
quite as large as a daughter ought to be.

"But what does Olive say about it?" he asked.

"I have not been asked yet," replied Olive, "but it seems to me that
I--"

"Would like to do it," interrupted Mrs. Easterfield. "Now, isn't that
so, dear Olive?"

The girl looked at the captain. "It depends upon what you say about it,
Uncle John."

The captain slightly knitted his brows. "If it were for one night, or
perhaps a couple of days," he said, "it would be different. But what am
I to do without Olive for nearly two weeks? I am just beginning to
learn what a poor place my house would be without her."

At this minute a man upon a rapidly trotting pony stopped at the
toll-gate.

"Excuse me one minute," continued the captain, "here is a person who can
not wait," and stepping outside he said good morning to a bright-looking
young fellow riding a sturdy pony and wearing on his cap a metal plate
engraved "United States Rural Delivery."

The carrier brought but one letter to the tollhouse, and that was for
Captain Asher himself. As the man rode away the captain thought he might
as well open his letter before he went back. This would give the ladies
a chance to talk further over the matter. He read the letter, which was
not long, put it in his pocket, and then entered the tollhouse. There
was now no doubt or sign of disturbance on his features.

"I have considered your invitation, madam," said he, "and as I see Olive
wants to visit you, I shall not interfere."

"Of course she does," cried Mrs. Easterfield, springing to her feet,
"and I thank you ever and ever so much, Captain Asher. And now, my
dear," said she to Olive, "I am going to send the carriage for you
to-morrow morning." And with this she put her arm around the girl and
kissed her. Then, having warmly shaken hands with the captain, she
departed.

"Do you know, Uncle John," said Olive, "I believe if you were twenty
years older she would have kissed you."

With a grim smile the captain considered; would he have been willing to
accept those additional years under the circumstances? He could not
immediately make up his mind, and contented himself with the reflection
that Olive did not think him old enough for the indiscriminate caresses
of young people.




_CHAPTER IV_

_The Son of an Old Shipmate._


When Olive came down to breakfast the next morning she half repented
that she had consented to go away and leave her uncle for so long a
time. But when she made known her state of mind the captain laughed at
her.

"My child," said he, "I want you to go. Of course, I did not take to the
notion at first, but I did not consider then what you will have to tell
when you come home. The people of Glenford will be your everlasting
debtors. It might be a good thing to invite Maria Port out here. You
could give her the best time she ever had in her life, telling her about
the Broadstone people."

"Maria Port, indeed!" said Olive. "But we won't talk of her. And you
really are willing I should go?"

"I speak the truth when I say I want you to go," replied the captain.

Whereupon Olive assured him that he was truly a good uncle.

After the Easterfield carriage had rolled away with Olive alone on the
back seat, waving her handkerchief, the captain requested Jane to take
entire charge of the toll-gate for a time; and, having retired to his
own room, he took from his pocket the letter he had received the day
before.

"I must write an answer to this," he said, "before the postman comes."

The letter was from one of the captain's old shipmates, Captain Richard
Lancaster, the best friend he had had when he was in the merchant
service. Captain Lancaster had often been asked by his old friend to
visit him at the toll-gate, but, being married and rheumatic, he had
never accepted the invitation. But now he wrote that his son, Dick, had
planned a holiday trip which would take him through Glenford, and that,
if it suited Captain Asher, the father would accept for the son the
long-standing invitation. Captain Lancaster wrote that as he could not
go himself to his old friend Asher, the next best thing would be for his
son to go, and when the young man returned he could tell his father all
about Captain Asher. There would be something in that like old times.
Besides, he wanted his former shipmate to know his son Dick, who was, in
his eyes, a very fine young fellow.

"There never was such a lucky thing in the world," said Captain Asher to
himself, when he had finished rereading the letter. "Of course, I want
to have Dick Lancaster's son here, but I could not have had him if Olive
had been here. But now it is all right. The young fellow can stay here a
few days, and he will be gone before she gets back. If I like him I can
ask him to come again; but that's my business. Handsome women, like that
Mrs. Easterfield, always bring good luck. I have noticed that many and
many a time."

Then he set himself to work to write a letter to invite young Richard
Lancaster to spend a few days with him.

For the rest of that day, and the greater part of the next, Captain
Asher gave a great deal of thinking time to the consideration of the
young man who was about to visit him, and of whom, personally, he knew
very little. He was aware that Captain Lancaster had a son and no other
children, and he was quite sure that this son must now be a grown-up
young man. He remembered very well that Captain Lancaster was a fine
young fellow when he first knew him, and he did not doubt at all that
the son resembled the father. He did not believe that young Dick was a
sailor, because he and old Dick had often said to each other that if
they married their sons should not go to sea. Of course he was in some
business; and Captain Lancaster ought to be well able to give him a good
start in life; just as able as he himself was to give Olive a good start
in housekeeping when the time came.

"Now, what in the name of common sense," ejaculated Captain Asher, "did
I think of that for? What has he to do with Olive, or Olive with him?"
And then he said to himself, thinking of the young man in the bosom of
his family and without reference to anybody outside of it: "Yes, his
father must be pretty well off. He did a good deal more trading than
ever I did. But after all, I don't believe he invested his money any
better than I did mine, and it is just as like as not if we were to show
our hands, that Olive would get as much as Dick's son. There it is
again. I can't keep my mind off the thing." And as he spoke he knocked
the ashes out of his pipe, and began to stride up and down the garden
walk; and as he did so he began to reproach himself.

What right had he to think of his niece in that way? It was not doing
the fair thing by her father, and perhaps by her, for that matter. For
all he knew she might be engaged to somebody out West or down East, or
in some other part of the world where she had lived. But this idea made
very little impression on him. Knowing Olive as he did, he did not
believe that she was engaged to anybody anywhere; he did not want to
think that she was the kind of girl who would conceal her engagement
from him, or who could do it, for that matter. But, everything
considered, he was very glad Olive had gone to Broadstone, for, whatever
the young fellow might happen to be, he wanted to know all about him
before Olive met him.

Captain Asher firmly believed that there was nothing of the matchmaker
in his disposition, but notwithstanding this estimate of himself, he
went on thinking of Olive and the son of his old shipmate, both
separately and together. He had never said to anybody, nor intimated to
anybody, that he was going to give any of his moderate fortune to his
niece. In fact, before this visit to him he had not thought much about
it, nor did it enter his mind that Olive's Boston aunt, her mother's
sister, had favored this visit of the girl to her toll-gate uncle,
hoping that he might think about it.

In consequence of these cogitations, and in spite of the fact that he
despised matchmaking, Captain Asher was greatly interested in the coming
advent of his shipmate's son.

When the same phaeton, the same horse, and the same boy that had brought
Maria Port to the tollhouse, conveyed there a young man with two
valises, one rather large, Captain Asher did not hurry from the house to
meet his visitor. He had seen him coming, and had preferred to stand in
his doorway and take a preliminary observation of him. Having taken
this, Captain Asher was obliged to confess to himself that he was
disappointed.

The first cause of his disappointment was the fact that the young man
wore a colored shirt and no vest, and a yellow leather belt. Now,
Captain Asher for the greater part of his active life had worn colored
shirts, sometimes very dark ones, with no vests, but he had not supposed
that a young man coming to a house where there was a young lady
accustomed to the best society would present himself in such attire. The
captain instantly remembered that his visitor could not know that there
was a young lady at the house, but this did not satisfy him. Such attire
was not respectful, even to him. The leather belt especially offended
him. The captain was not aware of the _negligГ©_ summer fashions for men
which then prevailed.

The next thing that disappointed him was that young Lancaster, seen
across the garden, did not appear to be the strapping young fellow he
had expected to see. He was moderately tall, and moderately broad, and
handled his valise with apparent ease, but he did not look as though he
were his father's son. Dick Lancaster had married the daughter of a
captain when he was only a second mate, and that piece of good fortune
had been generally attributed to his good looks.

But these observations and reflections occupied a very short time, and
Captain Asher walked quickly to meet his visitor. As he stepped out of
the garden-gate he was disappointed again. The young man's trousers were
turned up above his shoes. The weather was not wet, there was no mud,
and if Dick Lancaster's son had not bought a pair of ready-made trousers
that were too long for him, why should he turn them up in that
ridiculous way?

In spite of these first impressions, the captain gave his old friend's
son a hearty welcome, and took him into the house. After dinner he
subjected the young man to a crucial test; he asked him if he smoked. If
the visitor had answered in the negative he would have dropped still
further in the captain's estimation. It was not that the captain had any
theories in regard to the sanitary advantages or disadvantages of
tobacco; he simply remembered that nearly all the rascals with whom he
had been acquainted had been eager to declare that they never used
tobacco in any form, and that nearly all the good fellows he had known
enjoyed their pipes. In fact, he could not see how good fellowship could
be maintained without good talk and good tobacco, so he waited with an
anxious interest for his guest's answer.

"Oh, yes," said he, "I am fond of a smoke, especially in company," and
so, having risen several inches in the good opinion of his host, he
followed him to the little arbor in the garden.

"Now, then," said Captain Asher, when his pipe was alight, "you have
told me a great deal about your father, now tell me something about
yourself. I do not even know what your business is."

"I am Assistant Professor of Theoretical Mathematics in Sutton College,"
answered the young man.

Captain Asher put down his pipe and gazed at his visitor across the
arbor. This answer was so different from anything he had expected that
for the moment he could not express his astonishment, and was obliged to
content himself with asking where Sutton College was.

"It is what they call a fresh-water college," replied the young man,
"and I do not wonder that you do not know where it is. It is near our
town. I graduated there and received my present appointment about three
years ago. I was then twenty-seven."

"Your father was good at mathematics," said Captain Asher. "He was a
great hand at calculations, but he went in for practise, as I did, and
not for theories. I suppose there are other professors who teach regular
working mathematics."

"Oh, yes," replied the young man, with a smile, "there is the Professor
of Applied Mathematics, but of course the thorough student wants to
understand the theories on which his practise is to be based."

"I do not see why he should," replied the other. "If a good ship is
launched for me, I don't care anything about the stocks she slides off
of."

"Perhaps not," said Lancaster, "but somebody has to think about them."

In the afternoon Captain Asher showed his visitor his little farm, and
took him out fishing. During these recreations he refrained, as far as
possible, from asking questions, for he did not wish the young man to
suppose that for any reason he had been sent there to undergo an
examination. But in the evening he could not help talking about the
college, not in reference to the work and life of the students, a
subject that did not interest him, but in regard to the work and the
prospects of the faculty.

"What does your president teach?" he asked. "I believe all presidents
have charge of some branch or other."

"Oh, yes," said Lancaster, "our president is Professor of Mental and
Moral Philosophy."

"I thought it would be something of the kind," said the captain to
himself. "Even the head Professor of Mathematical Theories would never
get to the top of the heap. He is not useful enough for that."

After he had gone to bed that night Captain Asher found himself laughing
about the events of the day. He could not help it when he remembered how
his mind had been almost constantly occupied with a consideration of his
old shipmate's son with reference to his brother's daughter. And when he
remembered that neither of these two young people had ever seen or heard
of the other, it is not surprising that he laughed a little.

"It's none of my business, anyway," thought the captain, "and I might as
well stop bothering my head about it. I suppose I might as well tell
him about Olive, for it is nothing I need keep secret. But first I'll
see how long he is going to stay. It's none of his business, anyway,
whether I have a niece staying with me or not."




_CHAPTER V_

_Olive pays Toll._


It is needless to say that Olive was charmed with Broadstone; with its
mistress; with the two little girls; with the woods; the river; the
mountains; and even the sky; which seemed different from that same sky
when viewed from the tollhouse. She was charmed also with the rest of
the household, which was different from anything of that kind that she
had known, being composed entirely, with the exception of some servants,
of women and little girls. Olive, accustomed all her life to men, men,
men, grew rapturous over this Amazonian paradise.

"Don't be too enthusiastic," said Mrs. Easterfield; "for a while you may
like fresh butter without salt, but the longing for the condiment will
be sure to come."

There was Mrs. Blynn, the widow of a clergyman, with dark-brown eyes and
white hair, who was always in a good humor, who acted as the general
manager of the household, and also as particular friend to any one in
the house who needed her services in that way. Then there was Miss
Raleigh, who was supposed to be Mrs. Easterfield's secretary. She was a
slender spinster of forty or more, with sad eyes and very fine teeth.
She had dyspeptic proclivities, and never differed with anybody except
in regard to her own diet. She seldom wrote for Mrs. Easterfield, for
that lady did not like her handwriting, and she did not understand the
use of the typewriter; nor did she read to the lady of the house, for
Mrs. Easterfield could not endure to have anybody read to her. But in
all the other duties of a secretary she made herself very useful. She
saw that the books, which every morning were found lying about the
house, were put in their proper places on the shelves, and, if
necessary, she dusted them; if she saw a book turned upside down she
immediately set it up properly. She was also expected to exert a certain
supervision over the books the little girls were allowed to look at. She
was an excellent listener and an appropriate smiler; Mrs. Easterfield
frequently said that she never knew Miss Raleigh to smile in the wrong
place. She took a regular walk every day, eight times up and down the
whole length of the lawn.

Mrs. Easterfield gave herself almost entirely to the entertainment of
her guest. They roamed over the grounds, they found the finest points of
view, at which Olive was expert, being a fine climber, and they tramped
for long distances along the edge of the woods, where together they
killed a snake. Mrs. Easterfield also allowed Olive the great privilege
of helping her work in her garden of nature. This was a wide bed which
was almost entirely shaded by two large trees. The peculiarity about
this bed was that its mistress carefully pulled up all the flowering
plants and cultivated the weeds.

"You see," said she to Olive, "I planted here a lot of flower-seeds
which I thought would thrive in the shade, but they did not, and after a
while I found that they were all spindling and puny-looking, while the
weeds were growing as if they were out in the open sunshine, so I have
determined to acknowledge the principle of the survival of the fittest,
and whenever anything that looks like a flower shows itself I jerk it
out. I also thin out all but the best weeds. I hoe and rake the others,
and water them if necessary. Look at that splendid Jamestown weed--here
they call it jimson weed--did you ever see anything finer than that with
its great white blossoms and dark-green leaves? I expect it to be twice
as large before the summer is over. And all these others. See how
graceful they are, and what delicate flowers some of them have!"

"I wonder," said Olive, "if I should have had the strength of mind to
pull up my flowers and leave my weeds."

"The more you think about it," said Mrs. Easterfield, "the more you like
weeds. They have such fine physiques, and they don't ask anybody to do
anything for them. They are independent, like self-made men, and come up
of themselves. They laugh at disadvantages, and even bricks and
flagstones will not keep them down."

"But, after all," said Olive, "give me the flowers that can not take
care of themselves." And she turned toward a bed of carnations, bright
under the morning sun.

"Do you suppose, little girl," said Mrs. Easterfield, following her,
"that I do not like flowers because I do like weeds? Everything in its
place; weeds are for the shady spots, but I keep my flowers out of such
places. This flower, for instance," touching Olive on the cheek. "And
now let us go into the house and see what pleasant thing we can find to
do there."

In the afternoon the two ladies went out rowing on the river, and Mrs.
Easterfield was astonished at Olive's proficiency with the oar. She had
thought herself a good oarswoman, but she was nothing to Olive. She
good-naturedly acknowledged her inferiority, however. How could she
expect to compete with a navy girl? she said.

"Are you fond of swimming?" asked Olive, as she looked down into the
bright, clear water.

"Oh, very," said Mrs. Easterfield. "But I am not allowed to swim in this
river. It is considered dangerous."

Olive looked up in surprise. It seemed odd that there should be anything
that this bright, free woman was not allowed to do, or that there should
be anybody who would not allow it.

Then followed some rainy days, and the first clear day Mrs. Easterfield
told Olive that she would take her a drive in the afternoon.

"I shall drive you myself with my own horses," she said, "but you need
not be afraid, for I can drive a great deal better than I can row. We
must lose no time in seizing all the advantages of this Amazonian life,
for to-morrow some of our guests will arrive, the Foxes and Mr. Claude
Locker."

"Who are the Foxes?" asked Olive.

"They are the pleasantest visitors that any one could have," was the
answer. "They always like everything. They never complain of being
cold, nor talk about the weather being hot. They are interested in all
games, and they like all possible kinds of food that one can give them
to eat. They are always ready to go to bed when they think they ought
to, and sit up just as long as they are wanted. Of course, they have
their own ideas about things, but they don't dispute. They take care of
themselves all the morning, and are ready for anything you want to do in
the afternoon or evening. They have two children at home, but they never
talk about them unless they are particularly asked to do so. They know a
great many people, and you can tell by the way they speak of them that
they won't talk scandal about you. In fact, they are model guests, and
they ought to open a school to teach the art of visiting."

"And what about Mr. Claude Locker?"

Mrs. Easterfield laughed. "Oh, he is different," she said; "he is so
different from the Poxes that words would not describe it. But you won't
be long in becoming acquainted with him."

The road over which the two ladies drove that afternoon was a beautiful
one, sometimes running close to the river under great sycamores, then
making a turn into the woods and among the rocks. At last they came to a
cross-road, which led away from the river, and here Mrs. Easterfield
stopped her horses.

"Now, Olive," said she, for she was now very familiar with her guest, "I
will leave the return route to you. Shall we go back by the river
road--and the scenery will be very different when going in the other
direction--or shall we drive over to Glenford, and go home by the
turnpike? That is a little farther, but the road is a great deal
better?"

"Oh, let us go that way," cried Olive. "We will go through Uncle John's
toll-gate, and you must let me pay the toll. It will be such fun to pay
toll to Uncle John, or old Jane."

"Very well," said Mrs. Easterfield, "we will go that way."

When the horses had passed through Glenford and had turned their heads
homeward, they clattered along at a fine rate over the smooth turnpike,
and Olive was in as high spirits as they were.

"Whoever comes out to take toll," said she, "I intend to be treated as
an ordinary traveler and nothing else. I have often taken toll, but I
never paid it in my life. And they must take it--no gratis traveling for
me. But I hope you won't mind stopping long enough for me to say a few
words after I have transacted the regular business."

"Oh, no," said Mrs. Easterfield, "you can chat as much as you like. We
have plenty of time."

Olive held in her hand a quarter of a dollar; she was determined they
should make change for her, and that everything should be done properly.

Dick Lancaster sat in the garden arbor, reading. He was becoming a
little tired of this visit to his father's old friend. He liked Captain
Asher and appreciated his hospitality, but there was nothing very
interesting for him to do in this place, and he had thought that it
might be a very good thing if the several days for which he had been
invited should terminate on the morrow. There were some very attractive
plans ahead of him, and he felt that he had now done his full duty by
his father and his father's old friend.

Captain Asher was engaged with some matters about his little farm, and
Lancaster had asked as a favor that he might be allowed to tend the
toll-gate during his absence. It would be something to do, and,
moreover, something out of the way.

When he perceived the approach of Mrs. Easterfield's carriage Lancaster
walked down to the tollhouse, and stopped for a minute to glance over
the rates of toll which were pasted up inside the door as well as out.

The carriage stopped, and when a young man stepped out from the
tollhouse Olive gave a sudden start, and the words with which she had
intended to greet her uncle or old Jane instantly melted away.

"Don't push me out of the carriage," said Mrs. Easterfield,
good-naturedly, and she, too, looked at the young man.

"For two horses and a vehicle," said Dick Lancaster, "ten cents, if you
please."

Olive made no answer, but handed him the quarter with which he retired
to make change. Mrs. Easterfield opened her mouth to speak, but Olive
put her finger on her lips and shook her head; the situation astonished
her, but she did not wish to ask that stranger to explain it.

Lancaster came out and dropped fifteen cents into Olive's hand. He could
not help regarding with interest the occupants of the carriage, and Mrs.
Easterfield looked hard at him. Suddenly Olive turned in her seat; she
looked at the house, she looked at the garden, she looked at the little
piazza by the side of the tollhouse. Yes, it was really the same place.
For an instant she thought she might have been mistaken, but there was
her window with the Virginia creeper under the sill where she had
trained it herself. Then she made a motion to her companion, who
immediately drove on.

"What does this mean?" exclaimed Mrs. Easterfield. "Who is that young
man? Why didn't you give me a chance to ask after the captain, even if
you did not care to do so?"

"I never saw him before!" cried Olive. "I never heard of him. I don't
understand anything about it. The whole thing shocked me, and I wanted
to get on."

"I don't think it a very serious matter," said Mrs. Easterfield. "Some
passer-by might have relieved your uncle for a time."

"Not at all, not at all," replied Olive. "Uncle John would never give
the toll-gate into the charge of a passer-by, especially as old Jane was
there. I know she was there, for the basement door was open, and she
never goes away and leaves it so. That man is somebody who is staying
there. I saw an open book on the arbor bench. Nobody reads in that arbor
but me."

"And that young man apparently," said Mrs. Easterfield. "I agree with
you that it is surprising."

For some minutes Olive did not speak. "I am afraid," she said,
presently, "that my uncle is not acting quite frankly with me. I noticed
how willing he was that I should go to your house."

"Perhaps he expected this person and wanted to get you out of the way,"
laughed Mrs. Easterfield.

"Well, my dear, I do not believe your uncle is such a schemer. He does
not look like it. Take my word for it, it will all be as simple as a-b-c
when it is explained to you."

But Olive could not readily take this view of the case, and the drive
home was not nearly so pleasant as it would have been if her uncle or
old Jane had taken her quarter and given her fifteen cents in change.

That night, soon after the family at Broadstone had retired to their
rooms, Olive knocked at the door of Mrs. Easterfield's chamber.