The hill at Chickaree was steepest on the side towards the
west, and down that slope an opening had been cut through the
trees--a sort of pathway for the sunbeams. The direct rays were
gone, and only the warm sky glow brightened the hall door,
when the young mistress of the place once more appeared. She
stood still a moment and went back again; and then came
Dingee.

'Miss Hazel say, sar, room's ready and supper won't be long.
Whar Mass Rollo?'

'I suppose he'll be here directly.'

Mr. Falkirk did not go into the house immediately; he stood
with folded arms waiting, or watching the fading red glow of
the western sky. In about ten minutes the tramp of a horse's
feet heralded the coming of Mr. Rollo, who appeared from the
corner or the house, mounted on an old grey cob, who switched
his tail and moved his ears as if he thought going out at that
time of day a peculiar proceeding. Dingee staid the rider with
the delivery of his young lady's message.

'I am afraid supper's more than ready somewhere else. I can't
stay, my friend--my thanks to the lady.' And letting fall on
the little dark figure who stood at his stirrup, a gold piece
and a smile, Rollo passed him, bent a moment to speak to Mr.
Falkirk, and brought the grey cob's ideas to a head by
stepping him off at a good pace.

The room was large, opening by glass doors upon a wilderness