“And I have been looking at you,” said Dick, putting his hand upon the captain’s shoulder, “as the only hero I have ever met.  Not only for what you have done, but for what you have refrained from doing.”

“Nonsense!” said the captain.  “Olive now—­”

“Oh!  Olive is Olive!” said Dick.  And he did not mind in the least that the captain was present.

* * * * *

It was on the next afternoon that the Broadstone carriage stopped at the toll-gate.  Mrs. Easterfield sprang out of it, asking for nobody, for she had spied Olive in the arbor.

“It seems to me,” she said, as she burst into tears and took the girl into her arms, “it does seem to me as if I were your own mother!”

“The only one I have,” said Olive, “and very dear!”

It was some time after this that Mrs. Easterfield was calm enough to stop the flow of exciting conversation and to say to Olive, taking both her hands tenderly within her own:  “My dear, we have been talking a great deal of sentiment, and now I want seriously to speak to you on a matter of business.”

“Business!” asked Olive in surprise.

“Yes, it is really business from your point of view; and I have come round to that point of view myself.  Olive, I want you to marry!”

“Oh,” said Olive, “that is it, is it?  That is what you call business?”

“Yes, dear; I am now looking at your future, and at marriage in the very sensible way you regarded those matters when you were staying with me.”

“But,” said Olive, who could scarcely help laughing, “there was a good reason then for my being so sensible, and that reason no longer exists.  I can now afford single-blessedness.”

“No, Olive, dear, you can not.  Circumstances are all against that consummation.  You are not made for that sort of thing.  And your uncle is an old man, and even with him you need a young protector.  I want you to marry Richard Lancaster.  You know my heart has been set on it for some time, and now I urge it.  You could never bring forth a single objection to him.”

“Except that I did not love him.”

“Neither did you love the young men you were considering as eligible.  Now, do try to be a sensible girl.”

“Mrs. Easterfield, are you laughing at me?” asked Olive.

“Far from it, my dear.  I am desperately in earnest.  You see, recent events—­”

“Dick Lancaster and I are engaged to be married,” said Olive demurely, not waiting for the end of that sentence.  “And,” she added, laughing at Mrs. Easterfield’s astonished countenance, “I have not yet considered whether or not it is sensible.”

After Mrs. Easterfield had given a half dozen kisses to partly express her pleasure, she said:  “And where is he now?  I must see him!”

“He went back to his college late last night; it was impossible for him to stay here any longer at present.”