“Nothing but an owl, dear! He looked like a great moth, didn’t he? Herbert, when we can, we must restore the old driveway. It used to come in from the road in a beautiful curve to the door. Then the garden can be moved, and I believe if we’d cut away that clump of poor trees we could sit here on our own doorstep and see Gettysburg. Think of it, Herbert!”
“Yes,” said Herbert. His voice expressed pleasure, but a qualified pleasure.
“I can’t make it seem real,” said Elizabeth.
“If we can only succeed!”
“Of course we shall succeed!” Any one listening to Elizabeth would have said “Of course!” “In the first place, we have this house, blessed, substantial old thing that it is, only occasionally occupied during forty years and yet habitable after a little mending of the roof. John Baring’s character can be seen in the way he built his house. I’m more proud of him every day. Then we have the acres and acres of woodland behind us, and our garden—think of the produce we have to sell to-morrow! And soon we shall have our orchard,—our orchard, Herbert. They say that men within a few miles have sold a single crop for ten thousand dollars. It will mean work and saving and then comfort for all our lives. Why, we are the most fortunate people in the world!”
Herbert looked back over his shoulder into the dark hall. At the other end a door opened against the black wall of the woodland.
“Doesn’t it make you nervous to think of those men prowling round with their guns and dogs?”
“Not at all. They’ll have to be warned away. I suppose they’re so used to roaming about that they think the place is theirs. I’m not so much afraid of them as I am of their big dogs running over the garden.”
“What is that noise, Elizabeth?”
Elizabeth listened intently. Herbert often heard alarming noises. There was a soft rustle of leaves near at hand.