It was a glorious Indian-summer day with a soft, sun-warmed breeze wafting to them pleasant fragrance from wood and field. The two girls rode along, sometimes silently enjoying the loveliness of the morning, and again talking together, wondering what the outcome of their visit would be. If they could have known, perhaps they would have passed Elmhurst without entering.
They were soon at the lodge-house and the neat little woman appeared and opened the gates.
“Good-morning, Mrs. Diggitt,” Gertrude said in her friendly way. “Do you remember us? We are pupils from Linden Hall and we were here recently with Mr. Haley, our riding-master, but to-day we have come to call upon Mr. Ellsworth, if we may.”
There was a surprised expression on the woman’s face, and then she said, “Like as not Mr. Ellsworth will be pleased to see you. Just ride up to the big house and inquire.”
Leaving their horses hitched to the iron posts by the side of the drive, the two girls ascended the broad stone steps and lifted the heavy knocker on the carved oak doors. Then they waited, their hearts fluttering in excitement.
A trim maid appeared and upon hearing that they wished to see Mr. Ellsworth, she bade them enter the library and wait a bit.
The girls were charmed with the high-ceiled, mahogany-furnished room which combined elegance and comfort. A log was burning on the fireplace over which hung the portrait of an old man, whose eyes, under shaggy brows, looked sharply down at them.
“Trudie, if that is a portrait of the gentleman we are calling upon,” Adele said softly, “I think that we would better retreat before he comes in. His face looks so stern that I am sure he will order us out, when you tell him your errand.”
But before they could leave, even if they had so desired, a voice close behind them said, “Good-morning, young ladies. Did you wish to see me?”
Somehow this voice did not sound as gruff as they had expected, and turning, they were indeed surprised to find themselves facing a tall, good-looking lad of about eighteen.