said Mrs. Crane to Miss Wadsworth, as they watched the pair depart.
"A very sweet dear little case," returned Miss Abby, fairly bristling in defence of Dorothy. "She's so pretty and attractive, she can't help being a little coquettish; but she really does it to tease old Justin, and it does him good, too. He's forty years old and she's only twenty-two. That's too much difference altogether; but Dorothy knows what she's about and she'll make that man younger by many years with her pretty frivolities."
"I think it a little dangerous," said Mrs. Crane, who rarely hesitated to say what she thought.
"Dangerous? How do you mean?" said Dorothy's mother, and the gleam that came into her eye was markedly dangerous of itself.
Mrs. Crane quailed before it. "I didn't mean anything much," she said, "but eighteen years is a big difference in age between husband and wife. But I'm sure I hope they'll be happy."
"Of course they'll be happy," said Mrs. Duncan. "Mr. Arnold is of a kind and lovable disposition. He's a true gentleman, and he is generous and wise."
"He's a crank, that's what he is," said Miss Wadsworth, with an air of settling the question; "a man can't be a bachelor of forty, without having cranky ways, and as I know him pretty well, I know he isn't very easy to get along with. But Dorothy can tame him, if anybody can, and she's going about it just the right way. A patient Griselda couldn't do anything with Justin, but a little witch like Dorothy can rule him with a flash of her bright eye."
"Yes," said Mrs. Duncan, complacently, "that's what I think."
"But does she love him?" persisted Mrs. Crane, who never knew when to stop asking questions.
"My daughter wouldn't marry a man she didn't love," and Mrs. Duncan put on a superior air that silenced though it didn't convince Mabel Crane.
"Of course," said Miss Abby, "Dorothy loves Justin, and it's a fine match for her from every point of view. A kind husband with lots of money, and a beautiful big home like this, is better for any girl than a foolish romance with some young whipper-snapper, with nothing but poverty to look forward to."
This speech seemed to require no answer, and Mrs. Duncan smoothed the silken folds of her gown complacently, while Mrs. Crane let her pretty face assume a cynical expression.
"If Justin didn't marry," Mrs. Crane asked, "what would eventually become of the property?"
"Campbell Crosby is really the next heir," said Miss Abby, "though he belongs to a different branch of the family."
"But yourself?" went on Mrs. Crane, with some curiosity; "wasn't your mother an Arnold?"
"Yes; but of course I wouldn't be the heir. Justin has made a will, leaving me a big legacy, but except for that, and a few other legacies, his whole estate, including White Birches, would go to Campbell."
"Campbell Crosby seems out of place in a home like this," commented Mrs. Duncan; "it just suits Justin Arnold to be at the head of a big country house, but that feather-brained young fellow seems better adapted to city life."
"Yes, he always lives in a hotel in Philadelphia," said Miss Abby. "Nothing would induce him, he has often said, to live the life of a country gentleman. Many a time I've heard him tell Justin he didn't see how any man could stand it to be mewed up inside these stone walls; though he likes well enough to run down here for an occasional week-end. But when he was a boy, he used to be here for months at a time. He liked it then, well enough. Though eight years younger than Justin, they were good comrades, and wherever Justin would go, Campbell would follow. My! I've seen them climbing sloping turret roofs, and walking around the tower battlements till it fairly made my hair stand on end. They were harum-scarum boys. And Campbell is that still, though Justin quieted down as he grew older."
"Yes, Justin seems very staid," said Mabel Crane, "though I dare say his marriage to a bright young thing like Dorothy will have a rejuvenating effect on him."
"I dare say," said Miss Abby, drily, "and of course it cuts Campbell out of the inheritance. I've no doubt Justin will leave him a handsome legacy in his will, but of course Dorothy will be his heir."
"My ears burn," said Crosby, walking toward the group of chatting ladies; "Miss Duane has gone off skylarking with Gale, and, being left alone, I tried to listen to what you fair ladies might be saying, and was rewarded by hearing my own name."
"Yes," said Miss Abby, smiling at the pleasant face of the young man, "we were saying that Justin's marriage will cut off your hopes of inheriting his estate."
Crosby gave her a slightly reproachful glance.
"Dear Miss Abby," he said, "I don't think I've ever given you reason to talk like that. I've never looked upon myself as heir to White Birches, and I wouldn't want it anyway, though I don't mean that for 'sour grapes.' I hope old Just will live heaps of years yet to enjoy it, and Dorothy, too." His voice broke a little as he mentioned the girl's name, and, as his hearers were well aware of his feeling toward her, they quite understood.
Just then Arnold came by and paused to listen.
"No, old Just," and Crosby turned to his cousin, "I don't want your fortune and I don't want this feudal castle of yours, but unless you're pretty careful, I'll kidnap your girl and carry her off."
"You can't do it, Cam," and Arnold put his hand on the other man's shoulder; "not only is Dad's old burglar alarm in good working order, but I've added some modern contraptions, that make it impossible for anyone to get in or out of White Birches unbeknownst."
"Love laughs at locksmiths," said Campbell, saucily; and Mrs. Duncan observed, "And then, too, Mr. Crosby, you'd have to get Dorothy's consent first; I hardly think she'd be willing to be kidnapped."
"Oh, kidnappers never ask permission of their victims," retorted Crosby; "I should spirit her away without anyone knowing it."
Arnold looked at the speaker a little quizzically. "Then why didn't you go to walk with her this afternoon?" he said.
Crosby looked him straight in the eye, and said, quietly, "Because you didn't want me to."
"Good old man!" and Arnold's tone and expression betrayed the real feeling he felt for this manly behavior.
"But I mightn't always be so punctilious," laughed Crosby, who was determined not to treat the matter seriously; "another time I may take her to walk, whether with your permission or without it."
"I'll trust you, old man." And this was corroborated by a hearty slap on the shoulder. "By the way, Cam, I wish you'd come for a stroll with me; I want to talk over some business matters."
Rightly guessing that it was in regard to the making of a new will, Crosby sauntered off with his cousin.
"You see," Arnold said, "if I didn't marry, old chap, my fortune would fall to your share eventually."
"Fiddlesticks!" returned his cousin. "Any one would think you were a doddering old gentleman, and I your young and upstart heir. Please remember I'm only eight years younger than you are, so I hold we're contemporaries, and have little chance of inheriting from each other. And, any way, Just, I wish you'd cut out that kind of talk. You know perfectly well I don't want your riches nor this fortified old barracks of yours, either. But I do wish you hadn't selected for your future bride the only girl I ever loved."
"The latest, you mean," said Arnold,
