When Marion and her mother returned home the next day at dusk a third person was with them as they walked along the track, their figures outlined clearly against the orange after-glow in the west. Bro, who had come across for his tea, saw them, and supposed it was young Vickery. He supposed correctly. Young Vickery came in, staid to tea, and spent the evening. Bro, as usual, went over to the mill. The next day young Vickery came again, and the next; the third day the Mannings went over to the island. Then it began over again.
"I do hope, Bro, that your dinners have been attended to properly," said Mrs. Manning, during the second week of these visitations.
"Oh, yes, certainly," replied Bro, who would have eaten broiled rhinoceros unnoticingly.
"You see Mr. Vickery has the old-time ideas about company and visiting to celebrate a great occasion, and Lawrence's return is, of course, that. It is a perfect marvel to hear where, or rather where not, that young man has been."
"Where?" said Bro, obediently asking the usual question which connected Mrs. Manning's narratives, and gave them a reason for being.
"Everywhere. All over the wide world, I should say."
"Oh, no, mother; he was in Germany most of the time," said Marion.
"He saw the Alps, Marion."
"The Bavarian Alps."
"And he saw France."