From a family at Silverton, who had spent a few days at a private house in Newport, Helen had heard something of her sister’s life; the lady had seen her once driving a tandem team, or as Aunt Betsy had it, “driving tanterum,” down the avenue, with Wilford at her side giving her instructions.  Since then there had been some anxiety felt for her at the farmhouse, and more than Dr. Grant had prayed that she might be kept unspotted from the world; but when her letter came, so full of love and self-reproaches, the burden was lifted, and there was nothing to mar the anticipations of the events for which they had made so many preparations, Uncle Ephraim going to the expense of buying at auction a half-worn, covered buggy, which he fancied would suit Katy better than the corn-colored wagon in which Katy used to ride.  To pay for this the deacon had parted with the money set aside for the “greatcoat” he so much needed for the coming winter, his old gray one having done him service for fifteen years.  But his comfort was nothing compared with Katy’s happiness, and so, with his wrinkled face beaming with delight, he had brought home his buggy, which he designated a carriage, putting it carefully in the barn, and saying no one should ride in it till Katy came, the corn-color was good enough for them, but Katy was different—­Katy was Mrs. Cameron, and used to something better.  With untiring patience the old man mended up his harness, for what he had heard of Katy’s driving had impressed him strongly with her powers of horsemanship, and, truth to tell, raised her somewhat in his respect.  Could he have afforded it Uncle Ephraim in his younger days would have been a horse jockey, and even now he liked nothing better than to make Old Whitey run when alone in the strip of woods between the house and the head of the pond.

“Katy inherits her love of horses from me,” he said, complacently, and with a view of improving Whitey’s style and metal, he took to feeding him on corn and oats, talking to him at times, and telling him who was coming.

Dear, simple-hearted Uncle Ephraim, the days which he must wait seemed long to him as they did to the female portion of his family, to Mrs. Lennox, Aunt Hannah and Aunt Betsy, who each did what she could to make the house attractive.  They were ready for Katy at last, or could be early on the morrow, and with the shutting in of night the candles were lighted in the sitting-room, and Helen sat down to her work, wishing it was to-night that Katy was coming.  As if in answer to her wish there was the sound of wheels, which stopped before the house, and dropping her work, Helen ran quickly to the door, just as from under the dripping umbrella held by a driver boy, a tall young man, sprang upon the step, nearly upsetting her, but passing an arm around her shoulders in time to keep her from falling.

“I beg pardon for this assault upon you,” the stranger said; and then, turning to the boy, he continued:  “It’s all right, you need not wait.”