Mr. Montaigne was the first to state his business, when once all were ready to listen. It was extremely simple and concerned Dorothy most of all. Said he:

"My dear young lady, we have come to invite you to accompany us to Europe. We shall leave New York in a few weeks and remain abroad for one, possibly two, years. We are going to give our children the benefit of foreign education, which we want you to share with them and along whatever lines you, or your parents, select. Of course, there will be no expense to you, who will be to us exactly as our own daughter, and whom we have learned to love almost as such. Will you go?"

For a moment n.o.body spoke. Then said Dorothy very quietly, and scarcely daring to look at Helena or Herbert in their so evident disappointment:

"I thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Montaigne, for your great kindness. It is very wonderful that you should have shown it to me whom you have known such a little while. But I cannot go. My father and mother need me and--I need them. A foreign education would not help me to earn my living as I must do some day, and--I thank you again, but I cannot go."

To Helena's and Herbert's pleadings, which so strenuously followed, she could give no other answer. The invitation had been most tempting to her who so dearly loved to see new places and new people, but--her answer still was: "No."

Then the family from the Towers departed and Friend Oliver began:

"Thee is a good daughter, Dorothy Chester, and thee has well said that as a poor girl thee will need only the plainest education."

"Beg pardon, sir, but I did not say that! I shall get just as good an education as I can, but I won't turn my back on those I love and who love me for the sake of getting it. That's already planned for. Dear Mr.

Winters is going to open a school in the old smithy and all of us are to attend it. We've talked it over many a day, knowing how soon our summer friends would be away and our own real time for study and work would come. Jim and I, all the Babc.o.c.ks, and----"

But the miller had scant interest in these plans. He interrupted her by turning to Martha Chester and saying:

"I suppose, Martha, that thee has reconsidered thy objection to selling south meadow, or are ready to pay me my money loaned thee 'on demand.'

Is thee ready?"

"Oh! sir!" began the troubled housemistress, and was amazed that a child should interfere by saying:

"Wait a moment, mother dear. How much do my parents owe you 'on demand'?"

At a nod from Mr. Winters she had slipped away and as swiftly returned and now stood before the astonished company, holding a fat purse in her hands and calmly awaiting the miller's reply.

For an instant he could not make it. His amazement was too deep. The next with a sort of chuckle, as if sure that so large an amount could not be held in so small a compa.s.s, he announced the sum with interest in full.

"Very well. Here, father, is the money. More I think than you will need.

It is mine. My very own to give to you and mother, as I do give it now.

Mr. Winters knows. He will explain. Pay the man, do please, and let him go."

John Chester glanced at Seth Winters and received that gentleman's confirmatory nod; then he promptly opened the pocket-book and counted out the crisp banknotes which freed him and his home from the society of the miller and his men.

Oliver departed. If he were crestfallen he did not show it, and in that respect the worthy smith and Mrs. Cecil both were disappointed. He even ventured to congratulate the Chesters upon the possession of "such a forehanded" daughter and to wish them every prosperity. With that and summoning his surveyors, he took his benign presence out of the way.

Strangely enough, the surveyors did not at once follow, even to secure their wage which so just a man would surely pay. They even made light of such wages. During the time of waiting they had made other possible arrangements with the gentlemen in the garden, and they waited still further, with admirable patience, to see if these arrangements were correct.

It was time for the strangers in the garden to have their own little interview, and, seeing them approach, poor mother Martha pa.s.sed her hand across her tired brow, confused by all that had happened and dreading what might come. Too tired, as yet, to fully realize herself that her dreadful "debt" no longer rested on her shoulders.

But she need not have feared. These strangers were plain business men, with no sentiment about them. Said the foremost:

"Madam, we represent a syndicate prepared to buy, or operate in common with you, an iron mine that has been discovered on your land. In connection with this mine there is also a mineral spring from which a rich revenue may be obtained if properly managed. I have the honor to lay before you the two propositions of our company and to close with you as soon as the legal forms can be completed. It is royalty or open sale--if you will consider either."

Oh, but it was well that two such wise and faithful counselors as Seth Winters and Mrs. Calvert were present then to advise these inexperienced Chesters for their own best advantage. Be a.s.sured they did so, and subsequently that "deal" was accomplished on the wise "royalty"

basis, which proved, in one sense, indeed a "gold mine"; although the "gold" was but pure iron and a most unsavory water--that local physicians had always maintained would cure many diseases, and which soon received widespread attention elsewhere.

Such a day and such an ending! What time more fitting to take a temporary leave of our dear Dorothy? Whose life moves forward in blessing, as all lives should move, and whom we must come back to at some happy, future day.

All partings hold a touch of sadness--so must ours. But there is brightness in the sunset which floods the fields of Skyrie, a promise of greater brightness on the morrow. Before the night falls, while the sunshine still lasts, let us bid our heroine a real, old-fashioned farewell:

"Well, Dorothy, good-by!"

THE END