“I think,” said Dora, slowly and decisively, as if she had fully considered the matter, “that you may as well go on, for I don’t suppose it would do to disturb Mr. Haverley now.  I know that when people are making hay, they can’t stop for anything.”

“You are right,” said her brother, with a smile; “hay-making the will of a rich man on his death-bed; it must be done promptly, if it is done at all.  I shall go on, of course, and you will go with me?”

“No, indeed,” said Dora, preparing to get down from the buggy; “I would not want to wait for you in that tiresome old horse-hair parlor of the Dudleys.  I should ever so much rather sit here, by myself, until you come back.  But of course I shall see her before long.  Isn’t it funny, Herbert?  I had to look for her when I came here before, and I suppose I shall always have to look for her whenever I come.”

Her brother admitted that it was funny, and accepting her arrangement, he drove away.  Dora rang the bell, and stepped into the hall.  “I will wait here a little while,” she said to herself, “then I will go to Phoebe’s house, and ask her where she is.  If she does not know, I do not in the least mind walking over to the hay-field, and calling to Mr. Haverley.  It would not take him three minutes to come and tell me where I would better go to look for his sister.”

At this Miss Bannister smiled a little.  She would be really glad to know if Mr. Haverley would be willing to leave that important hay, and make everything wait until he came to speak to her.  As she stood, she looked about her; on a table by the wall lay a straw hat trimmed with flowers, and a pair of long gloves, a good deal soiled and worn.  Dora’s eyes passed carelessly over these, and rested on another pair of gloves, larger and heavier.

“He hasn’t driven much, yet,” she said to herself, “for they look almost new.  I wonder when he will break his colts.  Then, I suppose, he will drive a good deal.”

Dora was a girl who noticed things, and turning to the other side of the hall, she saw a larger table, and on it lay a powder-horn and a shot-flask, while in the angle of the table and the wall there stood a double-barrelled fowling-piece.  This sight made her eyes sparkle; he must like to hunt and shoot.  That pleased her very much.  Herbert never cared for those things, but she thought a young man should be fond of guns and dogs and horses, and although she had never thought of it before, she now considered it a manly thing to be able to go out into the hay-field and work, if it happened to be necessary.

She went to the back door, and stood, looking out.  There was nobody stirring about Phoebe’s house, and she asked herself if it would be worth while to go over to it.  Perhaps it might be as well to stroll toward the hay-field.  She knew where the great meadow was, because she had looked over it when she had stood at the wide barn window with Mr. Haverley.  He had pointed out a good many things to her, and she remembered them all.