was a cool bank overgrown with trumpet-creeper. Inside, he caught
sight of a little recess or cave, and a gray old bench on which was
just room for two.

"Will you stop here and sit down one moment?" she said.

It was nothing to him but a deserted spring-house. It was the one
enchanted spot of Kitty's life.

Half an hour afterward they found old Peter playing on his violin at
the doorstep. Kitty had often planned an effective bringing back of
Hugh to him, but she forgot it all, and creeping up put her hands
about his neck. "Father! look there, father!" she whispered.

The Book-house still stands among its walnuts in Berrytown. But a
shrewd young fellow from New York has charge of it now, who deals
principally in school-books and publications relative to Reforms
and raspberries. Old Peter Guinness still holds an interest in it,
although his chief business is that of special agent for libraries in
buying rare books and pamphlets. He comes down for two or three weeks
in winter to look into matters. But since his wife died he makes his
home in Delaware with his son, who married, as all Berrytown knows,
Kitty Vogdes after she behaved so shamefully to Mr. Muller.

Mrs. Guinness died in high good-humor with her son-in-law. "Doctor
McCall," she assured her neighbors, "was exactly the man she should
have chosen for Catharine. She had known him from a boy, and knew
that his high social position and wealth were only his deserts. A
member--vestryman indeed--of St. Luke's Church, the largest in Sussex
county."