That Katy should go with Albert to see the cousins at Glenfield was a matter easily brought about.  Plausaby, Esq., was so desirous of Albert’s absence that he threw all of Mrs. Plausaby’s influence on the side of the arrangement which Charlton made a sine qua non.  Albert felt a little mean at making such a compromise of principle, and Plausaby felt much as a man does who pays the maker of crank-music to begone.  He did not like Katy’s going; he wanted to further her marriage with so influential a person as Smith Westcott, the agent in charge of the interests of Jackson, Jones & Co., who not only owned the Emporium, but were silent partners in the town-site.  But Katy must go.  Plausaby affectionately proffered the loan of his horse and buggy, which Charlton could not well refuse, and so the two set out for Glenfleld with many kind adieus.  Westcott came down, and smoked, and rattled his keys, and hoped they’d have a pleasant journey and get back soon, you know, Katy, by George! he! he! he!  Couldn’t live long without the light of her countenance.  ’S a fact!  By George!  He! he!  And when the carpet-bags and lunch-basket and all the rest were stowed away under the seat of the buggy, Mrs. Plausaby, with a magnificent number of streamers, kissed them, and she and Cousin Isa stood by the gate and nodded their heads to the departing buggy, as an expression of their feelings, and Mr. Plausaby lifted his hat in such a way as to conceal his feelings, which, written out, would be, “Good riddance!” And Smith Westcott blandly waved his good-by and bowed to the ladies at the gate, and started back to the store.  He was not feeling very happy, apparently, for he walked to the store moodily, rattling the coppers and keys in his right pantaloons-pocket.  But he seemed to see a little daylight, for just as he arrived in front of the Emporium, he looked up and said, as if he had just thought of something, “By George! he! he! he!”

Owing to some delay in fixing the buggy, Charlton had not got off till about noon, but as the moon would rise soon after dark, he felt sure of reaching Glenfleld by nine in the evening.  One doesn’t mind a late arrival when one is certain of a warm welcome.  And so they jogged on quietly over the smooth road, the slow old horse walking half the time.  Albert was not in a hurry.  For the first time since his return, he felt that for a moment he possessed little Katy again.  The shadow had gone; it might come back; he would rejoice in the light while he could.  Katy was glad to be relieved of the perpetual conflict at home, and, with a feeling entirely childish, she rejoiced that Albert was not now reproving her.  And so Albert talked in his old pedagogic fashion, telling Katy of all the strange things he could think of, and delighting himself in watching the wonder and admiration in her face.  The country was now smooth and now broken, and Albert thought he had never seen the grass so green or the flowers so bright as