and a brisk manner of speech which she did not possess. He sized up the
Gray family quickly, and apparently with satisfaction, for he talked
quite freely of his niece to them, and they saw that they were not alone
in their estimate of her.

"It certainly was a great stroke of luck all round--for her as well as
for you--when she blew in here," he said, "but if you knew what an
awful hole we think she's left behind her in New York you'd think
yourselves doubly lucky to have her all to yourselves. There's more
than one young man, I can tell you"--with a sly look at
Thomas--"watching out for her return. You should have seen her at a
party I gave for her three years ago or more, dressed in a pink frock
looped up with roses, and with cheeks to match! She wasn't always this
pale little shadow, I can tell you. Well, the boys were around her that
night like bees round a honeysuckle bush--no denying there's something
almighty irresistible about these little, soft-looking girls, now, is
there? Ah! her roses didn't last long, poor child. Now you've given her
a good, healthful place to live in, and something to think about and
do--she'd have lost her reason without them, after all she's been
through. But when you're tired of her, I want her. I'm a poor, forlorn
lonely old bachelor, and I need her a great deal more than any of you.
What do you say to a little walk, Mr. Gray, before we turn in? I want
to have a look at your fine farm. I have a farm myself--no such grand
old place as this, of course, but a neat little toy not far from the
city, where I can run down Sundays. Sylvia used to be very fond of
going down with me. It's from my foreman, a queer, scientific
chap--Jenkins his name is--that she's picked up all these notions
she's been unloading on you. Pretty good, most of them, aren't they,
though? You must run down there some time, boys, and look things
over--it's well to go about a bit when one's thinking of building and