The weather was warm for the time of year, and on leaving the table the whole party repaired to the front porch, where Harry quickly provided every one with a seat.
"That is a beautiful maple yonder," remarked Mr. Travilla.
"Yes, sir," returned Harry; "we have a row of them all along the front of the lot; and as Mrs. Dauber says, they are 'perfectly gordeous' in the fall."
"The maple is my favorite among the shade leaves," remarked Miss Stanhope, joining in the talk, "from the time it trees out in the spring till the bare become branches in the fall. Through this month and next they're a perpetual feast to the eye."
"Aunt, how did you decide in regard to that investment you wrote to consult me about?" asked Mr. Dinsmore, turning to her.
"Oh, I concluded to put in a few hundreds, as you thought it safe, on the principle of not having all my baskets in one egg."
"Small baskets they would have to be, auntie," Harry remarked quietly.
"Yes, my eggs are not so many, but quite enough for an old lady like me."
As the evening shadows crept over the landscape the air began to be chilly, and our friends adjourned to the parlor.
Here all was just as when Elsie last saw it; neat as wax, everything in place, and each feather-stuffed cushion beaten up and carefully smoothed to the state of perfect roundness in which Miss Stanhope's soul delighted.