that characterized Gale and Crosby.
These two men lived in Philadelphia, and conducted their law business there. Incidentally, they were Justin Arnold's lawyers, and though he had little legal business to be attended to, it was a convenient pretext for them occasionally to visit White Birches.
Emory Gale was of a waggish type. He "jollied" everybody, he said impertinent things under the guise of innocent candor, and he was invariably good-natured and kind-hearted. But beneath his careless manner was a shrewd aptitude for business, and as the senior member of the firm he attended to the more important matters, letting Crosby do the routine work.
Campbell Crosby was a cousin of Justin Arnold. Indeed, the two men were the only ones left of the main branch of the family, and, though several years younger, Crosby had always been intimate with his cousin, and the two had always been warm friends. As children, they had been much together, and Crosby had spent many happy summers at White Birches, admiring and adoring Arnold, as a small boy often does admire an older one.
The other guests were Mr. and Mrs. Fred Crane, he a naturalist devoted to his cause, and his wife a pretty little woman with sharp eyes and a sharp tongue, but whose brightness and vivacity made her an attractive guest. She was a distant cousin of Justin Arnold, and the Cranes were frequent visitors at White Birches.
But though all present were interesting or charming in their several ways, all were dominated by the presence of that most important personage, Miss Abby Wadsworth.
There are some women who possess the power of making their presence felt, and that without any apparent effort. Miss Wadsworth was one of these. She had only to sit in her accustomed easy-chair, and her very presence demanded and received recognition and respect. She was perhaps sixty years old, a cousin of Justin Arnold's father, and her manner gave the impression that to be a Wadsworth was far more important than to be an Arnold, or indeed any other name in any social register.
She did not wear the traditional black silk of the elderly cousin, but wore modern and fashionable gowns of becoming color and of modish though not extreme cut.
Everybody liked Miss Abby, and though occasionally she pronounced blunt truths, yet she had a good sense of humor, and was easy enough to get along with if allowed to dictate in all matters, whether they concerned her or not.
"You two men are inseparable," said Dorothy to Mr. Gale and Mr. Crosby. "I think I have never seen one of you without the other."
"You will, though," said Campbell Crosby. "Just for that, I'm going to take you for a long walk around the grounds; and we may get lost in a wildwood tangle and never come back!"
"Like the babes in the wood," said Leila Duane. "If you don't return soon, Mr. Gale and I will go out and cover you with autumn leaves."
"But you may not find us," said Crosby. "We may fall into a deep, dank tarn. I've no idea what a deep, dank tarn is, but I know there is one on the place. I remember I used to play around it when I was a boy."
"Well, I'd like to see it," said Dorothy, jumping out of her swing. "Come on, Mr. Crosby, and show it to me."
"Dorothy," interposed Justin Arnold, "stay where you are. Do you suppose I will let you go walking with another man?"
"Do you suppose," retorted Dorothy, "that I will ask your permission, if I choose to go?"
The lovely, laughing face was so merry that it took away all petulant spirit from the question, and Dorothy's dark eyes flashed with fun as she slowly went toward Crosby.
"If you want to see any part of the grounds of White Birches, I will escort you myself," went on Arnold.
"Oh, come, now, Justin," said Crosby, "don't begrudge me a little stroll with your girl. I'll bring her back safely."
"Let her go, Justin," dictated Cousin Abby. "She'll enjoy a walk with Campbell, and goodness knows she'll see enough of you all the rest of her life! It's only a few weeks to the wedding day, and after that she can't go gadding about with young men. Run along, Dorothy, and flirt with Campbell all you've a mind to."
"Yes, do," said Crosby, but whether it was the too eager look in his eyes, or whether Dorothy suddenly decided to humor Justin, she refused to go.
"All right," said Crosby gayly; "but don't think I don't know why you refused. You just do it to pique me, and make me more crazy about you than ever!"
As all present were accustomed to Crosby's outspoken remarks, they paid little heed to this speech, but he murmured low in Dorothy's ear, "And that's really true, and you know it And you'll take that walk with me, see if you don't!"
"Hold there, Campbell!" cried Justin. "Stop whispering to my girl! I declare, old man, if you don't let her alone, you and I will have to revive the good old fashion of duelling!"
"Oh, I wish you would!" exclaimed Dorothy, clapping her hands. "Leila, wouldn't you just love to see a real live duel?"
"Yes, if they all stayed alive afterward. But I shouldn't want any fatal effects; they're so troublesome and unpleasant."
"Take me away, Mr. Crosby," cried Dorothy; "I won't stay where people talk of such awful subjects!"
"Come along, then, and we'll look up that deep, dank tarn."
Dorothy rose from the swaying swing seat, and cast a slightly apprehensive glance at Arnold. But he chanced to have his back turned and did not see her. So with a beckoning smile at Crosby, she ran down the steps and out on to the lawn. Gaily she ran across the wide greensward and, rounding a clump of blue spruce trees, was lost to view of those on the terrace.
Crosby, following, found her there on a stone garden seat.
"You'll catch it!" he said, looking down at the laughing face.
"Why?" innocently; "can't I stroll round my own grounds, if I like? At least, they soon will be mine."
"Do you covet them so much, then?"
"Covet isn't a pretty word. Of course, I love White Birches. Though I never would stay here in winter. And of course I should want to go away in summer. But Justin says I may do whatever I wish."
"What portion of the year, then, will you spend in this old place you love so well?"
Campbell Crosby was talking at random, merely for the pleasure of looking down into the lovely face and watching the dimples come and go as the red lips parted. And he had his wish, for a slow, sweet smile curved the scarlet mouth as Dorothy answered:
"Only red and gold days in October; golden days—like—this."
Her voice was low and almost caressing in its sweetness, her glance flashed to meet his, and then, with a divine blush, turned slowly away toward the fading sunset.
"Is this a golden day? Is it—now?"
The thrill went out of Dorothy's voice, the faint blush disappeared, but her dimples came into play, as, with a soft naturalness, she said, "Yes, indeed! Did you ever see one more so? The golden trees, the golden sunset, the very atmosphere is golden!"
"This hour is golden!" whispered Crosby; "you were good to give it to me!"
"I didn't give it to you! You stole it! Stole it from Justin, and he'll
