At the squire's gate, Bevy Schnepp awaited her.
"Ach, come once in a little, Katy!"
"I cannot!"
"Just a little! I have something for you." Bevy put out a futile arm. People were forever trying to catch Katy.
"No," laughed Katy. "I'll put a hex on you, Bevy! I'll bewitch you, Bevy!"
Katy was gone, through her grandfather's gate, down the brick walk under the pine trees to the kitchen where sat grandfather and grandmother and the squire. Seeing them together, the two old men with their broad shoulders and their handsome heads and the old woman with her kindly face, a stranger would have known at once where Katy got her active, erect figure and her curly hair and her dark eyes. All three were handsome; all three cultivated as far as their opportunities would allow; all three would have been distinguished in a broader circle than Millerstown could offer. But here circumstances had placed them and had kept them. Even the squire, whose desk was frequently littered with time-tables, and who planned constantly journeys to the uttermost parts of the earth, had scarcely ever been away from Millerstown.
Upon these three Katy rushed like a whirlwind.
"Is it true?" she demanded breathlessly in the Pennsylvania German which the older folk loved, but which was falling into disuse among the young.
"Is what true?" asked grandfather and the squire together. They liked to tease Katy, everybody liked to tease Katy.
"That my uncle the governor is coming?"