Phoebe had often worked for the Bannister family, and Dora knew her to be one of the slowest movers among mankind; besides, the idea of calling upon a young lady who was engaged in looking for hens’ nests in a barn was an exceedingly attractive one.  It had not been long since Dora had taken much delight in that sort of thing herself.

“You needn’t trouble yourself, Phoebe,” she said; “I will walk over to the barn.  I would a great deal rather do that than wait in the house.  If I don’t see her there, I will come back and leave our cards.”

“You might as well do that,” said Phoebe, laughing, “for if she isn’t thar, she’s as like as not at the other end of the farm in the field where the colts is.”

The Cobhurst barn was an unusual, and, indeed, a remarkable structure.  It was not as old as the house, although it had been built many years ago by Mathias Butterwood, in a fashion to suit his own ideas of what a barn should be.

It was an enormous structure, a great deal larger than the house, and built of stone.  It stood against a high bluff, and there was an entrance on the level to the vast lower story, planned to accommodate Mr. Butterwood’s herd of fine cattle.  A little higher up, a wide causeway, supported by an arch, led into the second story, devoted to horses and all kinds of vehicles, and still higher, almost on a level with the house, there was a road, walled on each side, by which the loaded haywagons could be driven in upon the great third floor of the barn.

When Dora Bannister reached this barn, having followed a path which led to the lower story, she looked in at an open door, and received the impression of vast extent, emptiness, and the scent of hay.  She entered, looking about from side to side.  At the opposite end of the great room, was an open door through which the sun shone, and as she approached it, she heard a voice and the cracking of cornstalks outside.

Standing in the doorway, she looked out, and saw a large barnyard, the ground near the door covered with fresh straw which seemed to have been recently strewn there.  The yard beyond was a neglected and bad-looking expanse, into which no young lady would be likely to penetrate, and from which Dora would have turned away instantly, had she not seen, crossing it, a young man and a horse.

The young man was leading the horse by its forelock, and was walking in a sidewise fashion, with his back toward Dora.  The horse, a rough-looking creature, seemed reluctant to approach the barn, and its leader frequently spoke to it encouragingly, and patted its neck, as he moved on.

This young man was tall and broad-shouldered.  He wore a light soft hat, which well suited his somewhat curling brown hair.  A corduroy suit and high top boots, in which he strode fearlessly through the debris and dirt of the yard, gave him, in Dora’s eyes, a manly air, and she longed for him to turn his face toward her, that she might speak to him, and ask him where she would be apt to find his sister—­for of course this must be Mr. Haverley.