he was bound for. He stood hesitating, leisurely inspecting the flashing
ranks of vehicles--depot wagons, omnibusses, and motor cars already
eddying around a dusty gravel drive centred by the conventional railroad
flower bed and fountain.

Sunshine blazed on foliage plants arranged geometrically, on scarlet
stars composed of geraniums, on thickets of tall flame-tinted cannas.
And around this triumph of landscape gardening, phaeton, Tilbury,
Mercedes, and Toledo backed, circled, tooted; gaily gowned women, whips
aslant, horses dancing, greeted expected guests; laughing young men
climbed into dog-carts and took the reins from nimble grooms; young
girls, extravagantly veiled, made room in comfortable touring-cars for
feminine guests whose extravagant veils were yet to be unpacked; slim
young men in leather trappings, caps adorned with elaborate masks or
goggles, manipulated rakish steering-gears; preoccupied machinists were
fussing with valve and radiator or were cranking up; and, through the
jolly tumult, the melancholy bell of the locomotive sounded, and the
long train moved out through the September sunshine amid clouds of snowy
steam.

And all this time the young man, gun case in one hand, suit case in the
other, looked about him in his good-humoured, leisurely manner for
anybody or any vehicle which might be waiting for him. His amiable
inspection presently brought a bustling baggage-master within range of
vision; and he spoke to this official, mentioning his host's name.

"Lookin' for Mr. Ferrall?" repeated the baggage-master, spinning a trunk
dexterously into rank with its fellows. "Say, one of Mr. Ferrall's men
was here just now--there he is, over there uncrating that there bird-
dog!"