CHAPTER V.

LOUIS ROBERT.


Gloriously beautiful was the morning of August twenty-first. We were up
early, for the old stage would not wait for us, and we had much to do
just at the last moment. I say we, for I tried to do all that was
possible to assist Clara in packing the two large trunks we were to
take. One thing puzzled me. I had heard Clara say so many times to
Louis, who went over the house with her during the early part of each
day, "Now leave everything in shape to be taken at any moment." And this
last morning all the chairs were covered, and Louis worked with old Jim,
time-honored help, to accomplish it all. I had a secret fear that they
were planning to go away to seek another home somewhere, and it troubled
me. I wondered the more because Clara said nothing to me, and she was
naturally so ingenuous and apt to tell me her little plans freely. It
seemed to take less time than it takes to write it ere we were landed at
the door of my home, and found father and mother waiting to welcome us.
There was a look of surprise on the faces of my parents as Louis
descended from the stage and turned so gallantly to his little mother,
as he often called her. He was not the boy they expected to see, but a
man to all appearance, tall and handsome, and the embodiment of a
politeness which is founded, as I believe, on a true respect for the
opinions and conditions of others. I felt gladly proud of our supper
table that night, and I knew Louis looked in vain for rye bread. He did
ample justice to our creamy butter, however, and after supper remarked
to me that Miss Lear might like a few pounds of such.