Only Dave had not forgotten the stranger is the joy of Kate's
home-coming. He had welcomed the flurry of excitement to say a few words
to his mother, his sworn ally in all the little domestic plots.

"Mother," he said, "do contrive to keep that girl. It would be nothing
short of murder to turn her out on the highway."

A pressure of the motherly hand assured Dave that he could rely on her
support.

"Well, well, Katie," said the Squire with his arm around his niece's
waist, "the old place has been lonely without you!"

"Uncle, who is that girl on the porch?" she asked in an undertone.

"That we don't know; says her name is Moore, and that she wants work.
Kind of sounds like a fairy story, don't it, Kate?"

"Poor thing, poor thing!" was Kate's only answer.

"Amasy," said Mrs. Bartlett, assuming all the courage of a rabbit about
to assert itself, "this family is bigger than it was with Kate home and
the professor here, and I am not getting younger--I want you to let me
keep this young woman to help me about the house."

The Squire set his jaw, always an ominous sign to his family. "I don't
like this takin' strangers, folks we know nothing about; it's mighty
suspicious to see a young woman tramping around the country, without a
home, looking for work. I don't like it."