Keith had long been trying to persuade his father to accompany him to New York on some of his visits; but the old gentleman had never been able to make up his mind to do so.

“I have grown too old to travel in strange lands,” he said.  “I tried to get there once, but they stopped me just in sight of a stone fence on the farther slope beyond Gettysburg.”  A faint flash glittered in his quiet eyes.  “I think I had better restrain my ambition now to migrations from the blue bed to the brown, and confine my travels to ’the realms of gold’!”

Now, after much urging, as Gordon was about to go abroad to try and place the Rawson properties there, the General consented to go to New York and see him off.  It happened that Gordon was called to New York on business a day or two before his father was ready to go.  So he exacted a promise that he would follow him, and went on ahead.  Though General Keith would have liked to back out at the last moment, as he had given his word, he kept it.  He wrote his son that he must not undertake to meet him, as he could not tell by what train he should arrive.

“I shall travel slowly,” he said, “for I wish to call by and see one or two old friends on my way, whom I have not seen for years.”

The fact was that he wished to see the child of his friend, General Huntington, and determined to avail himself of this opportunity to call by and visit her.  Gordon’s letter about her had opened a new vista in life.

The General found Brookford a pleasant village, lying on the eastern slope of the Piedmont, and having written to ask permission to call and pay his respects, he was graciously received by Miss Abby, and more than graciously received by her niece.  Miss Lois would probably have met any visitor at the train; but she might not have had so palpitating a heart and so rich a color in meeting many a young man.

Few things captivate a person more than to be received with real cordiality by a friend immediately on alighting at a strange station from a train full of strangers.  But when the traveller is an old and somewhat unsophisticated man, and when the friend is a young and very pretty girl, and when, after a single look, she throws her arms around his neck and kisses him, the capture is likely to be as complete as any that could take place in life.  When Lois Huntington, after asking about his baggage, and exclaiming because he had sent his trunk on to New York and had brought only a valise, as if he were only stopping off between trains, finally settled herself down beside the General and took the reins of the little vehicle that she had come in, there was, perhaps, not a more pleased old gentleman in the world than the one who sat beside her.

“How you have grown!” he said, gazing at her with admiration.  “Somehow, I always thought of you as a little girl—­a very pretty little girl.”

She thought of what his son had said at their meeting at the ball.