“I want to talk business,” said John. He swung himself onto the library table and took one knee into his hands. “I’m not keeping you from any of those household duties with which you are wearing your young life away?”

Margaret shook her head. “I have nothing to do until it is time for dinner. Do you know I fear I am getting tired of being a housekeeper.” She looked about her in mock alarm. “Ever since I came back I have been good for nothing. I suppose it was that month of idleness. For the first time in my life I wish I were a man. I’d like to travel, travel for—oh, for months and months!”

“Where?” he asked.

“Anywhere—everywhere! Just go about and see things and not care when I arrived or where I arrived.” She laughed softly. “There, that’s my first revolt against my lot. And it shall be my last. I’m glad mamma didn’t hear me. She’d be terribly alarmed and worried.”

[409]

“Mrs. Ryerson is comfortable this morning?” asked John.

“Yes; she feels quite bright.” After a moment, “Do you always make mothers fall in love with you, Mr. North?” she asked.

“Always,” he answered very gravely. “It’s my foxy way. You see, Miss Ryerson, most daughters are dutiful enough to follow their mothers’ example.”

“Oh,” said Margaret, “I see.” She avoided his glance and dropped into the high-backed, old-fashioned chair by the front window. Below her a bed of many-hued pansies trembled and nodded drowsily in the breeze. The library was dark and quiet. The open windows admitted the fragrant air from the garden, and the musty, bookish smell that usually pervaded the room was gone. “And the business?” asked Margaret. John started.

“Oh, yes, the business,” he said. “It’s this. When I was here at Christmas time I told you that I wanted to try my hand at making a living down here in Virginia. You weren’t very encouraging, if you remember, but—well, as I said once before, I was born hopeful. And so I still want to try it. You told me then that you would be glad to have[410] me for a neighbour—and friend. Have you changed your mind?”

“No,” answered Margaret. “But do you mean that you are thinking of settling around here somewhere?”

“That’s my idea. In fact, I am thinking of buying from you.”

“Oh!” Margaret’s eyes grew wide. “But——”

“The thing sounds rather brutal, I know,” he went on, “but if Elaine must be sold—and, as far as I’ve heard, it’s still on the market—it occurs to me that possibly you’d just as lief I would have it as the next one. Am I right, Miss Ryerson?”

“Yes; I’d far rather it went to you. Only, I fear—I don’t think I told you, did I, that some one holds an option on it?”

John shook his head, but didn’t look worried.

“Of course, they may not buy,” she continued, “but Mr. Corliss seems quite certain that they will. Oh, I’m so sorry! I wish it was going to be you, Mr. North. I—we all—would so much rather it went to a friend, you see.”

“But perhaps the parties won’t buy,” said John cheerfully. “Or maybe they’d be willing to sell to[411] me at an advance. Corliss didn’t say who—er—who they are?”

“No, he didn’t. But I reckon they’re Northerners.” There was a trace of displeasure in her voice, and John smiled.

“Well, then, if I should come to you and tell you that I was ready to buy the place, fifteen hundred acres, without the home farm here, you’d sell to me? If the other people were out of it, I mean?”

“Yes; gladly.”

“Thank you. I fancy I shall be around some day with that announcement,” he said smilingly.

She looked across at him speculatively.

“I’ve changed my mind about you,” she said finally.

“As to——” For an instant he dared hope.

“As to your not making a success of it. I think you could.”

“Why? What makes you think so?” he asked. She shook her head.

“I don’t know; I just think so.”

“Well, I hope you’re right. For I mean to have the place if I can. I’m leaving to-morrow, and I shall see Corliss and find out about it at once.”

“Must you go to-morrow?” she asked, her eyes[412] on the pansies. “Couldn’t you telegraph just as well?”

“Oh, I was going anyhow, you know,” he answered lightly. “I’ve stayed long enough—longer, in fact, than I agreed to—with myself, I mean,” he added, in response to her look of surprise. There was a moment of silence. Then he went on with a trace of awkwardness:

“I told Phil awhile ago that there was only one thing that could make me disregard the decen............