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“I believe I have a pet of yours in my barn at Avondale, Mrs. Adams.”

Dely’s eyes lighted up, and a quick flush of feeling glowed on her pretty face.

“Oh, Sir! You did buy Biddy, then? And you are Squire Hollis?”

“Yes, Ma’am, and Biddy is well, and well cared for, as fat and sleek as a mole and still comes to her name.”

“Thank you kindly, Sir!” said Dely, with an emphasis that gave the simple phrase most earnest meaning. And how is your husband, Mrs. Adams?” said I.

A deeper glow displaced the fading blush Grandfather had called out, and her beautiful eyes flashed at me.

“Quite well, I thank you, and not so very lame. And he’s coming home next week.”

She took the baby from me, as she spoke, and, looking in its bright little face, said,—

“Call him, Baby!”

“Pa-pa!” said the child.

“If ever you come to Avondale, Mrs. Adams, come and see my cows,” said Grandfather, as he gathered up the reins.”You may be sure I wouldn’t sell Biddy to anybody but you.”

Dely smiled from the steps where she stood; and we drove away.