In another minute they had joined the group on the veranda, where the doctor speedily ensconced his wife in an easy-chair, placed himself in another by her side, and taking the baby from the nurse, held it up with a look of fatherly pride, asking the older ladies, “Isn’t this a pretty fine specimen of babyhood, considering that he is my son?”

“Yes, indeed!” laughed Mrs. Allison, “it is singular that so poor a specimen of manhood as my nephew, Arthur Conly, should have so fine a son.  But he may have got his good looks from his mother; though I do not perceive that she has lost any.”

“Now, Aunt Adelaide, after that you will do well to take care not to fall ill and get into the doctor’s hands,” laughed Marian.

“My dear,” said the doctor, “can you suppose I object to having my wife praised? or my son, even at his father’s expense?”

“No, I know you do not,” she returned.  “I verily believe you would sacrifice everything for him except his mother.”

“Did he let you take part in any of the games?” asked Adelaide.

“Oh, I didn’t ask to!” said Marian.  “I have grown so lazy that I thought it more fun to watch the others.”

“Captain Raymond and Violet seem to be enjoying tennis as much as any of the rest,” remarked Mrs. Dinsmore, who was watching the game with keen interest.

“Yes,” said Dr. Conly, “all—­old and young—­seem very happy and interested in their various sports; and I think are gaining health and strength from the vigorous exercise in this pure air.”

Most of the company were engaged in games of one kind or another, but some few were wandering about in the alleys of the garden or wood, or sitting on the grass or some rustic bench, chatting sociably, as cousins and connections might be expected to do.  Dr. Dick Percival and Maud Dinsmore were among the latter.  They had had a game of tennis and were now refreshing themselves with a saunter through the wood.

“I admire this place—­Woodburn,” said Maud.  “Captain Raymond has, I think, made a sort of earthly paradise of it; though for that matter one might say pretty much the same of The Oaks, Ion, and several of the other family estates.”

“Yes; including those down in Louisiana,” returned Dick—­“Viamede, Magnolia Hall, and a few others.  By the way, you have never been down there, have you?”

“No, never; but I am hoping that Cousin Elsie will invite me one of these days.”

“Suppose you don’t wait for that, but accept an invitation from me,” suggested Dick, giving her a very lover-like look and smile.

“From you?” she exclaimed, her tone expressing surprise and a little bewilderment, “are you staying there?”

“At Viamede?  No, not now.  I have bought a plantation not very far from there, and am trying to make it equal in beauty to Viamede.  It will, of course, take some time to accomplish that; but, to me, Torriswood seems even now a very winsome place.  And if I had my cousin Maud installed there, as mistress, I should be one of the happiest of men.”