It was promptly accepted; and a week later Morton met at the station, and conveyed home, a rather old little figure, with the traditional band-box and bird-cage in hand.

"Here we are!" she cried merrily to the waiting girls on the piazza.

"Both the spinsters, you see, for Polly and I are too old to be separated!" and, setting down the cage, she proceeded to embrace each pretty young creature with motherly warmth, Polly meanwhile remarking hoa.r.s.ely,--

"How d'ye do? Go 'long! Come again! Oh, you fools!" at which Sam, the gardener, appeared wonderingly around the corner of the house.

"Beg parding, Miss," jerking off his ragged straw hat, "but I thought as how you might be havin' trouble with a tramp," glaring savagely at Miss Prue; "thought I heered a strange voice."

"Oh, it's nothing, Sam, nothing but a bird," laughed Molly.

"A burrd!" he cried, with an amazed look. "A burrd a-talkin' the likes o' thot? May all the saints defend us!"

While the laughing group stood by, Molly introduced the fowl, with proper explanations, at which Polly, probably thinking it necessary to vindicate her powers, broke out with,--

"Hold yer jaw! Get out! Shiver my timbers! What the"--

"You disgraceful old thing!" cried Miss Prue, s.n.a.t.c.hing up the cage and rushing indoors, where she set it down with a thump on the hall-table; and, dragging off her black silk wrap, proceeded to m.u.f.fle the profane creature in its shiny folds; then, turning to Sara with a distressed look, she implored,--

"_Will_ you tell me what makes her so wicked? I've tried my best to teach her nice little moral axioms from Ben Franklin and Socrates, and bits of poetry from Tupper, but whenever she wants to show off, she goes back to that dreadful old sailor-talk she learned on shipboard, n.o.body knows how many years ago; it's discouraging!"

"It is, indeed!" laughed Sara, while Molly furtively lifted a corner of the wrap, in hopes to start Polly off again. "But never mind Polly's capers, dear Miss Prue, we know what a respectable old bird she is, in spite of her lapses. Come into the library, where it's nice and cool, and tell me everything you can think of about dear old Killamet. Oh, how good, how good, it is to see you again, you blessed woman!" throwing an arm about her, and hugging her up rapturously, as they pa.s.sed into the opposite apartment.

"What a paradise!" cried the elder maiden, stopping short on the threshold. "Do you tell me that is a window, in the middle of the chimney, or only some wonderful picture? I didn't know a room could be made so beautiful, could express so perfectly the refinement of work"-- then breaking loose from Sara's embrace, she faced the young girl, and, taking her by the shoulders, held her at arm's length, and gazed at her critically. "Let me look at you," she said, sweeping her glance slowly from the proud little head, with its earnest, refined face, down over the lissome figure in its sheer, white gown, even to the daintily-shod feet peeping from beneath it, "let me see whether this is the niche you were intended for. Yes," slowly and reverently, "yes, I see. You fit in here; you are content, satisfied. It isn't the luxury, either, Sara; that you could do without; it is that better part one can hardly name, only feel; and your Maker has been slow in shaping you that you might fit the more perfectly. Kiss me, dear, I am glad you are _my_ daughter!"

Sara kissed her tenderly, her eyes wet with tears of happiness; and Molly and Morton entering just then, with questions as to where Polly should be suspended, turned the talk into lighter channels.

The latter soon found herself chained to a perch of Sam's contriving, out on the deep veranda, and for the rest of her stay had a string of admirers ranged along the sidewalk at nearly all hours of the day, bandying words with her ladyship. As for Sam, he furtively admired her as much as the street-boys, and would be seen to slap his thighs and double over with silent merriment, when she was a little more wicked than usual; not that Sam was an encourager of vice; by no means; but as he confided to Hetty,--

"It do beat all nater to see that pious old gurrl so fond of a haythen creetur that's enough to disgrace a pirate hisself; an' the quareness of it just gets me, it do."

As to the "pious old girl," (according to Sam's disrespectful characterization of Miss Prue) she had quite given up in despair.

"Really, Sara," she remarked with deep melancholy, "it must be the city atmosphere" (Dartmoor was a town of perhaps fifteen thousand inhabitants), "for, you know, she never was so perverse in Killamet. I'm afraid she'll disgrace us all!" Upon which Sara would comfort her by saying that, as most parrots were trained by rough people, nothing better could be expected, and she was sure n.o.body would blame them; while Molly, the naughty little elf, would shake her curls with a solemn air, and exclaim,--

"It's a mercy the students and faculty are mostly away, Miss Prue; I'm afraid she'd have to be expelled if college was in session, in consideration of the morals of the inst.i.tution!"

But, in spite of Polly's harrowing performances, it was a delightful visit; yet, as often happens with delightful things, it brought to Sara a new worry and a great temptation. There were several of the young people present one evening; and Miss Prue, enjoying the moonlighted veranda and the music from the gas-lighted drawing-room, as well as anybody, watched the little by-plays with keen, interested eyes. Among the group was Mr. Preston Garth, a tall, shapely young fellow, whose face was redeemed from plainness by a pair of large intelligent gray eyes, and a ready smile, accented by the whitest of teeth.

Miss Prue was attracted by his looks; and, being a close observer, she soon noted that, though he talked about laboratory matters with Morton, and was ready to joke or sing with Molly and the two older young ladies present, yet every time Sara addressed him, he turned to answer with an eagerly respectful air, different from the rather careless manner usual with the others.

The next day, as she sat with her favorite in the cool library, Molly being away on an errand, she asked, apropos of nothing,--

"Who is that Mr. Garth, Sara?"

The young girl smiled.

"Just what you see, Miss Prue; a college student, and seemingly a fine young man."

"But where does he live?"

"I believe in Trenton."

"Know anything about his family?"

"No, except that there are not many of them, I believe. At any rate, he has no parents. He's helping himself through college partly, though I understand he has a small property; that's why he works in the laboratory."

"H'm," Miss Prue bent towards the light to pick up a dropped st.i.tch in her knitting. "He looks like a fine fellow; does he come here often?"

"Yes, rather," Sara answered carelessly, just then engaged in digging about the roots of a palm in the window with one of her hairpins; "he likes to sing with Molly."

Miss Prue did not answer, except by an expressive little grunt, and then, apparently, changed the subject.

"Do you ever hear from Cousin Jane nowadays?" ("Cousin Jane" was Mrs.

Norris, Jasper's mother.)

"I haven't lately. She did write me a few times, and I answered; but the last letter came in cold weather,--I should say, before February."

"Yes. Jasper has a schooner of his own now, did you know it?"

"No; has he? That's fine!"

"Yes; Jasper always was forehanded, and he has laid by quite a snug little sum; then of course his father helps him; you never hear from him?"

"No; that is, he did write a postscript in one of his mother's letters."

"Did you answer it?"

"Not directly. I expressed my thanks, etc., to Mrs. Norris when I next wrote."

Sara had resumed her chair and sewing; but at this she laid it in her lap, and looked curiously at her old friend, wondering what categorical fiend possessed her this morning. Miss Prue knitted two or three rounds in silence, then remarked, with elaborate carelessness,--

"You and Jasper have always been good friends?"

As she ended with the rising inflection, Sara answered,--

"Oh, yes, always," and picked up her sewing.

"I've about made up my mind," added Miss Prue, lowering her voice to a more confidential tone, "to make Jasper my heir. His mother has been for years my nearest of kin, and Jasper's a fine lad, honest and trustworthy. But I have some notions about woman's rights in property matters; and if I knew just the girl he would marry, I should leave it to both, share and share alike. I know whom he _wants_ to marry,"

she finished decisively. "Is it Dolly Lee?" asked Sara, all interest.

"No, it isn't Dolly Lee," dryly; "it's Sara Olmstead."

The sewing dropped again.

"Miss Prue!"

"Well, it is, and you needn't speak as if I'd told a falsehood; for I _know!_"

Sara's cheeks had crimsoned warmly, and her voice faltered a little, as she asked,--