Uncle John had carried his nieces to a farm at Millville, in the Adirondack region, for the summer, so that Kenneth heard but seldom from his friends.

Such was the disposition of the characters when our story opens.

Kenneth Forbes, although I have called him a boy, had attained his majority on the fifteenth day of May.  At this time Mr. Watson rendered his accounts and turned over the estate to its owner.  He would then have retired, but Kenneth would not let him go.  Twenty-one years of age sounds mature, but the owner of Elmhurst was as boyish and inexperienced as it is possible for one twenty-one years old to be.  He had grown accustomed, moreover, to depend much on Mr. Watson’s legal acumen in the management of his affairs, and would have been embarrassed and bewildered if obliged to shoulder the burden all at once.

The lawyer, who had always had an affection for the young man, perceived this clearly; so an arrangement was made that he should remain with his young friend indefinitely and strive to teach him such elements of business as would enable him in time to attend to his extensive interests understandingly and wisely.

The country around Elmhurst is thickly settled with agriculturists, for the farms are rich and productive in that part of the state.  But it is not a flat country, and Nature has given it many pretty woodland glades and rocky glens to add to its charm.

From the hill country at the west came several rushing streams which tumbled along rocky paths to the river nine miles below Elmhurst, and there are scenes along these routes that might well delight the eye of an artist.  Kenneth had often wandered into these out-of-the-way places when a half-forgotten, neglected lad, but had not visited them for years.  Now, however, with the spirit of loneliness upon him, he suddenly thought of a glen that would make an interesting study for a picture; so one morning he mounted his horse and rode away to pay the place a preliminary visit.

The farmers along the road nodded at the young fellow good-naturedly as he passed them.  Everyone knew him well by sight, yet Kenneth could not have named many of his neighbors, having held little intercourse with them.  It struck him, this morning, that they had little cause to be interested in him.  He had been an unsociable lad, and since he had become master of Elmhurst had done little to cultivate acquaintance with the people who lived around him.

One reason for this was that they held little in common with him.  The neighboring farmers were honest, thrifty souls, and among them were many both shrewd and thoughtful; but they naturally would not force themselves upon the society of the one really rich man in their community, especially as that man had shown no desire to know them.

Kenneth was the subject of much speculation among them, and opinions widely differed concerning his character.  Some called him a “prig” and declared that he was “stuck up” and conceited.  Others said he was a “namby-pamby” without brains or wit.  But there were a few who had occasionally talked with the boy, who understood him better, and hinted that he might develop into “quite a man” in time.