It was plain, however, that her uncle’s desire for it had experienced a strong revival; and the unexpected return of Lawrence Croft had probably had a great effect on him.  He had not objected to the visits of that gentleman during the summer, but he had never shown any strong liking for him, and Roberta said to herself that she could not see, for her part, why this should be; Mr Croft was a thorough gentleman, an exceedingly well educated and agreeable man.

As to Junius, she was afraid that he had not the spirit which she used to think he possessed.  There was something about him she could not understand.  In former days, when Junius was in New York, she compared him with the young men there, very much to his advantage, but now Mr Croft seemed to throw him somewhat in the background.  When Croft wanted to do anything he did it; even his failure to come to her when he said he would do so showed strength of will.  If Junius had promised to come he would have come, even if he had not wanted to do so, and there would have been something weak about that.

While she thus sat thinking, and gazing over the landscape, she saw afar off, on a portion of the road which ran along-side the woods, a vehicle slowly making its way to the house.  Roberta had large and beautiful eyes, but they were not of the kind which would enable her to discover at so great a distance what sort of vehicle this was, and who was in it.  As the road led nowhere but to Midbranch she was naturally desirous to know who was coming.  She stepped into the hall, and, taking a small bell, rang it vigorously, and in a moment her youthful handmaiden, Peggy, appeared upon the scene.  Peggy’s habit of projecting her eyes into the far away could often be turned to practical account for her vision was, in a measure, telescopic.

“What is that coming here along the road?” asked Miss Roberta, stepping upon the porch, and pointing out the distant vehicle.

Peggy stood up straight, let her arms hang close to her sides, and looked steadfastly forth.  “Wot’s comin’, Miss Rob,” said she, “is the buggy ‘longin’ to Mister Michaels, at de Springs, an’ his ole mud-colored hoss is haulin’ it.  Dem dat’s in it is Mahs’ Junius an’ Mister Crof’.”

“Are you sure of that?” exclaimed Miss Roberta in astonishment.  “Look again.”

“Yaas’m,” replied Peggy.  “I’s sartin shuh.  But dey jes gwine behin’ de trees now.”

The road was not again visible for some distance, but when the buggy reappeared Peggy gave a start, and exclaimed:  “Dar’s on’y one pusson in it now, Miss Rob.”

“Which is it?” exclaimed her mistress quickly, shading her eyes, and endeavoring to see for herself.

“It’s Mister Crof’,” said Peggy.  “Mahs’ Junius mus’ done gone back.”

“It is too bad!” exclaimed Miss Roberta.  “I will not see him.  Peggy,” she said, snatching up the key basket, and stepping toward the hall door, “when that gentleman, Mr Croft, comes, you must tell him that I am up-stairs lying down, that I am not well, and cannot see him, and that your Master Robert is not at home.”