When Caleb Garth arrived at Stone Court soon after dusk, Mary was not surprised, although he seldom had leisure for paying her a visit, and was not at all fond of having to talk with Mr. Featherstone.  The old man, on the other hand, felt himself ill at ease with a brother-in-law whom he could not annoy, who did not mind about being considered poor, had nothing to ask of him, and understood all kinds of farming and mining business better than he did.  But Mary had felt sure that her parents would want to see her, and if her father had not come, she would have obtained leave to go home for an hour or two the next day.  After discussing prices during tea with Mr. Featherstone Caleb rose to bid him good-by, and said, “I want to speak to you, Mary.”

She took a candle into another large parlor, where there was no fire, and setting down the feeble light on the dark mahogany table, turned round to her father, and putting her arms round his neck kissed him with childish kisses which he delighted in,—­the expression of his large brows softening as the expression of a great beautiful dog softens when it is caressed.  Mary was his favorite child, and whatever Susan might say, and right as she was on all other subjects, Caleb thought it natural that Fred or any one else should think Mary more lovable than other girls.

“I’ve got something to tell you, my dear,” said Caleb in his hesitating way.  “No very good news; but then it might be worse.”

“About money, father?  I think I know what it is.”

“Ay? how can that be?  You see, I’ve been a bit of a fool again, and put my name to a bill, and now it comes to paying; and your mother has got to part with her savings, that’s the worst of it, and even they won’t quite make things even.  We wanted a hundred and ten pounds:  your mother has ninety-two, and I have none to spare in the bank; and she thinks that you have some savings.”

“Oh yes; I have more than four-and-twenty pounds.  I thought you would come, father, so I put it in my bag.  See! beautiful white notes and gold.”

Mary took out the folded money from her reticule and put it into her father’s hand.

“Well, but how—­we only want eighteen—­here, put the rest back, child,—­but how did you know about it?” said Caleb, who, in his unconquerable indifference to money, was beginning to be chiefly concerned about the relation the affair might have to Mary’s affections.

“Fred told me this morning.”

“Ah!  Did he come on purpose?”

“Yes, I think so.  He was a good deal distressed.”

“I’m afraid Fred is not to be trusted, Mary,” said the father, with hesitating tenderness.  “He means better than he acts, perhaps.  But I should think it a pity for any body’s happiness to be wrapped up in him, and so would your mother.”

“And so should I, father,” said Mary, not looking up, but putting the back of her father’s hand against her cheek.