“Caroline, child,” answered the major with a smile that was infinitely tender, “we don’t need it!  We’ve had a hand-to-hand fight to inherit the land of our fathers but we’re building fortunes fast; we and the youngsters.  The gray line has closed up its ranks and toed hard marks until it presents a solid front once more; some of it bent and shaky but supported on all sides by keen young blood.  A solid front, I say, and a friendly one, flying no banners of bitterness—­don’t you like us?” and the smile broadened until it warmed the very blood in Caroline Darrah’s heart.

“Yes,” she said as she lifted her eyes to his and laid both her hands in the lean strong one he held out for her then, “and all that awful feeling has gone completely.  I feel—­feel new born!”

“And isn’t it a great thing that we mortals are given a few extra natal days?  If we were born all at one time we couldn’t so well enjoy the processes.  Now, I intend to assume that fate has laid you on my door-step and—­”

“Dearie me,” said Mrs. Buchanan as she sailed into the room with colors flying in cheeks and eyes, “did Phoebe go on to that meeting after all?  Did she promise to come back?  Where’s Andrew?  Caroline, child, what have you and the major been doing all the afternoon?  It’s after four and you are both still indoors.”

“I have been adopting Caroline Darrah and she has been adopting me,” answered the major as he caught hold of the lace that trailed from one of his wife’s wrists.  “I think I am about to persuade her to stay with us.  I find I need attention occasionally and you are otherwise engaged for the winter.”

“Isn’t he awful, Caroline,” smiled Mrs. Matilda as she sank for a moment on a chair near them, “when I haven’t a thought in the day that is not for him?  But I must hurry and tell Tempie that they will all be here from the philharmonic musicale for tea.  Dear, please see that the flowers are arranged; I had to leave it to Jane this morning.  I find I must run over and speak to Mrs. Shelby about something important, for a moment.  Shall I have buttered biscuits or cake for tea?  Caroline, love, just decide and tell Tempie.  I’ll be back in a minute,” and depositing an airy kiss on the major’s scalp lock and bestowing a smile on Caroline, she departed.

The major listened until he heard the front door close then said with one of his slow little smiles, “If I couldn’t shut my eye and get a mental picture of her in a white sunbonnet with her skirts tucked up trudging along behind me dropping corn in the furrows as I opened them with the plow, I might feel that I ought to—­er—­remonstrate with her.  But there are bubbles in the nature of most women that will rise to the surface as soon as the cork is removed.  Matilda is a good brand of extra dry and the cork was in a long time—­rammed down tight—­bless her!”

“She is the very dearest thing I ever knew,” answered Caroline with a curly smile around her tender mouth.  “A letter she wrote while under the pressure of the cork is my chiefest treasure.  It was written to welcome me when I was born and I found it last summer, old and yellow.  It was what made me think I might come—­home.”