To cover this slight mishap, Claire gave a hurried signal to the pages, who appeared forthwith in splendid form, if a little overweighted by the burdens they bore.  In some strange way Claire’s simple gifts had been secretly augmented until they piled up upon the trays, twin-mountains of treasure.

When the first surprise was past, and the wonders examined and exclaimed over, Martha bent toward Claire, from her seat of honor on the grass.

“Didn’t I think to tell you Mr. Blennerhasset come up on the early train?  Sammy, he drove down to the station himself to meet’m.  Mr. Blennerhasset brought up all them grand things—­for Mr. Ronald.  Ain’t he—­I mean Mr. Ronald—­a caution to ’ve remembered the day?  I been so took up with things over there to the great house, I musta forgot to tell you about Mr. Blennerhasset.  Ain’t everything just elegant?—­

“It’s pretty, the way the night comes down up here.  With the sharp pin-heads o’ stars prickin’ through, one by one.  They don’t seem like that in the city, do they?  An’ the moon’s comin’ up great!”

Claire’s eyes were fixed on the grassy slope ahead.

“Who are those three men over there?” she asked.  “What are they doing?  I can’t make out in the dusk anything but shadow-forms.”

“Sam, an’ Mr. Blennerhasset, an’—­an’—­another fella from the neighborhood.  Mr. Blennerhasset he brought up some fire-works to surprise the young uns, an’ they’re goin’ to set ’em off.  It’s early yet, but the sooner it’s over the sooner to sleep.  An’ the kids has had a excitin’ day.”

Up shot a rocket, drawing the children’s breaths skyward with it in long-drawn “A-ahs!” of perfect ecstasy.

Then pin-wheels, some of which, not to belie their nature, balked obstinately, refusing to be coerced or wheedled into doing their duty.

“Say, now, mother,” cried Francie excitedly—­“that pin-wheel—­in the middle of it was a cork.  When it got over spinning fast, I saw the cork.”

“Don’t you never do that no more,” cautioned Martha.  “Never you see the cork.  It’s the light you want to keep your eye on!” which, as Claire thought it over, seemed to her advice of a particularly shrewd and timely nature.

She was still pondering this, and some other things, when she felt Mrs. Slawson’s hand on her shoulder.

“It’s over now, an’ I’m goin’ to take the young ‘uns in, an’ put ’em to bed.  But don’t you stir.  Just you sit here a while in the moonlight, an’ enjoy the quiet in peace by yourself.  You done a hard day’s work, an’ you give me an’ Sammy what we won’t forget in a hurry.  So you just stay out here a few minits—­or as long as you wanter—­away from the childern’s clatter, an’—­God bless you!”

Claire’s gaze, following the great form affectionately, saw it pass into the darker shadows, then forth—­out into the light that shone from the open door of the lodge.

“She’s home—­and they’re together!” Unconsciously, she spoke her grateful thought aloud.