But the final farewells had to be said at length, for railway time-tables are absolute, and the last train for Boston would leave at ten o'clock.
At half-past nine the carriages were at the door and fifteen minutes later all were gone, excepting the Seabrooks, who lingered for a few last words with the family, and to take leave of Miss Reynolds, who would go home on the morrow.
They were all standing together in the brilliantly lighted reception hall, Dorothy with one arm linked within her father's, the other encircling Katherine's waist.
"Hasn't it been a wonderful day, papa?" said the girl, during a little lull in the general conversation.
"It certainly has, dear," he replied, giving the small arm a fond pressure.
"And see!" she continued, glancing around the circle, "all of us, except Mr. and Mrs. Minturn, belong to Miss Katherine."
"Well, bless my heart!" here laughingly interposed Mr. Minturn. "Miss Dorothy, I think that is very unceremoniously crowding us out of our own domain."
"You'll know I didn't mean to do any crowding when I tell you my thought," she returned, and nodding brightly at him. "You see, it was she who interested everyone of us in Science, and I think we ought to be called Miss Katherine's sheaves. You know it says in the Bible 'he who goes forth bearing precious seed shall come again bringing his sheaves with him.' She sowed the seed at Hilton and has 'gathered us all in' here."
"That is a very sweet thought, Dorrie, and it is true enough, too," said her mother, as she bestowed a fond look upon Katherine. "But," she added, moving towards the door, "we must go home this very minute, for it is getting late," and with general "good- nights" they also went away.
Katherine followed them out upon the veranda, where she stood leaning against the balustrade and watched their forms melt away in the darkness, a thrill of loving gratitude in her heart, for, were they not indeed her "sheaves"?