In the meantime the saddle left by Uncle Jake near the horse-rack had attracted the attention of a young man as he came through the front gate. After looking at it for a few minutes, idle curiosity prompted him to turn it over with his foot, and as he did so three bright brass letters—"R. E. L."—greeted him. He looked sharply at them at first, then his eyes dilated, and a little prickly thrill ran through him. "I wonder if it can be!" he said. Suddenly some convincing feeling seemed to fill his mind, and then he almost ran to the house. On reaching the steps, he sprang up them two at a time, and entered the hall, where he met Mrs. Claverly.
"Mrs. Claverly—" he began, and stopped.
"Well?" she asked, smiling at his hesitation. "What is it, Charley?"
"Ah, do you know, Mrs. Claverly, I think that General Lee is here." His voice was husky with excitement.
"General Lee! Where?" But without waiting for a reply, she stepped quickly to the door of the old-fashioned parlor, and exclaimed in soft, suppressed tones to a group of women sitting there:
"They think that General Lee is here!"
"What makes them think so?" asked a thin, gray-haired woman, as she hastily arose.
"Why," replied the young man, his tones now quite positive, "his saddle with 'R. E. L.' on it is out there by the gate."
"There he comes now," said one of the group, eagerly; "at least, I suppose that it is he."
"Let me see," said Mrs. Claverly, going rapidly to the window. "I saw him once at the Greenbrier White, and I am sure that I would know him. Yes, it is he!" she exclaimed, as she looked at the man coming slowly across the lawn, talking earnestly to the barefoot boy at his side. His thoughts were so completely occupied by what he was saying that not until he was quite near the inn did he see the group on the porch, and his face flushed slightly as he realized that they were there to greet him. Lifting his hat, he ascended the steps with bared head. Mrs. Claverly walked quickly forward, and extended her slim white hand.