said, live in Gormanville, for they were greatly attached to the place,
and they should keep up the old Bentley homestead in the style that he
thought they owed to the region where the Bentleys had always lived. It
is a comfort to a man to tell his dreams, whether of the night or of the
day, and I enjoyed Glendenning's pleasure in rehearsing these fond
reveries of his.

He interrupted himself to listen to the sound of hurried steps, and
directly a man in his shirt-sleeves came running by on the sidewalk
beyond the maples. In a village like Gormanville any passer is of
interest to the spectator, and a man running is of thrilling moment.
Glendenning started to his feet, and moved forward for a better sight of
the flying passer. He called out to the man, who shouted back something
I could not understand, and ran on.

"What did he say?"

"I don't know." Glendenning's face as he turned to me again was quite
white. "It is Mrs. Bentley's farmer," he added, feebly, and I could see
that it was with an effort he kept himself from sinking. "Something has
happened."

"Oh, I guess not, or not anything serious," I answered, with an effort
to throw off the weight I suddenly felt at my own heart. "People have
been known to run for a plumber. But if you're anxious, let us go and
see what the matter is."

I turned and got my hat; Glendenning came in for his, but seemed unable
to find it, though he stood before the table where it lay. I had to
laugh, though I felt so little like it, as I put it in his hand.