It was toward the end of June that Miss Dora Bannister returned from a fortnight’s visit to some friends at the seashore, and she had been home a very little while, when she became convinced that her most important duty was to go to see that young girl at Cobhurst.  It seemed very strange that so long a time had passed since the arrival of the Haverleys into the neighborhood, and she had never yet seen his sister.  In Miss Bannister’s mind there was a central point, about which clustered everything connected with Cobhurst:  that point was a young man, and the house was his house, and the fields were his fields, and the girl was his sister.

It so happened, the very next day, that Herbert Bannister found it necessary to visit a lady client, who lived about four miles beyond Cobhurst, and when Dora heard this she was delighted.  Her brother should take her as far as Cobhurst with him; they should start early enough to give him time to stop and call on Ralph Haverley, which he most certainly ought to do, and then he could go on and attend to his business, leaving her at Cobhurst.  Even if neither the brother nor the sister were at home, she would not mind being left at that charming old place.  She would take a book with her, for there were so many shady spots where she could sit and read until Herbert came back.

Herbert Bannister, whose mind was devoted to business and the happiness of his sister, was well pleased with this arrangement, and about three o’clock in the afternoon the buggy containing the two stopped in front of the Cobhurst portico.

The front door was open, and they could see through the hall and the open back door into the garden beyond.

Dora laughed as she said, “This is just what happened when I came here before,—­everything wide open, as though there were no flies nor dogs nor strangers.”

Herbert got out and rang the bell:  he rang it twice, but no one came.  Dora beckoned him to her.

“It is of no use,” she said; “that also happened when I came before.  They don’t live in the house, at least in the daytime.  But Herbert, there is a man.”

At this moment, the negro Mike was seen at a little distance, hurrying along with a tin pitcher in his hand.  Herbert advanced, and called to him, and Mike, with his pitcher, approached.

“The boss,” he said, in response to their inquiries, “is down in the big meadow, helpin’ me get in the hay.  We tried to git extry help, but everybody’s busy this time o’ year, an’ he an’ me has got to step along pretty sharp to git that hay in before it rains.  No, Miss, I dunno where the young lady is.  She was down in the hay-field this mornin’, rakin’, but I ‘spects she is doin’ some sort of housework jes’ now, or perhaps she’s in the garden.  I’d go an’ look her up, but beggin’ your pardon, I ain’t got one minute to spare, the boss is waitin’ for me now,” and, touching his shabby old hat, Mike departed.

“What shall we do?” asked Herbert, standing by the buggy.