The speech was made without the slightest thought or suggestion of anything but delighted admiration and parental affection.  Nevertheless, Ruth, to whom it was made, started slightly, and, turning, regarded the pair at the piano.  Maud was fingering the pages of a book of college songs and looking smilingly up into the face of Charles Phillips, who was looking down into hers.  There was, apparently, nothing in the picture—­a pretty one, by the way—­ to cause Mrs. Armstrong to gaze so fixedly or to bring the slight frown to her forehead.  After a moment she turned toward Jed Winslow.  Their eyes met and in his she saw the same startled hint of wonder, of possible trouble, she knew he must see in hers.  Then they both looked away.

Captain Hunniwell prated proudly on, chanting praises of his daughter’s capabilities and talents, as he did to any one who would listen, and varying the monotony with occasional references to the wonderful manner in which young Phillips had “taken hold” at the bank.  Ruth nodded and murmured something from time to time, but to any one less engrossed by his subject than the captain it would have been evident she was paying little attention.  Jed, who was being entertained by Babbie and Petunia, was absently pretending to be much interested in a fairy story which the former was improvising—­she called the process “making up as I go along”—­for his benefit.  Suddenly he leaned forward and spoke.

“Sam,” he said, “there’s somebody comin’ up the walk.  I didn’t get a good sight of him, but it ain’t anybody that lives here in Orham regular.”

“Eh?  That so?” demanded the captain.  “How do you know ’tain’t if you didn’t see him?”

“‘Cause he’s comin’ to the front door,” replied Mr. Winslow, with unanswerable logic.  “There he is now, comin’ out from astern of that lilac bush.  Soldier, ain’t he?”

It was Ruth Armstrong who first recognized the visitor.  “Why,” she exclaimed, “it is Major Grover, isn’t it?”

The major it was, and a moment later Captain Hunniwell ushered him into the room.  He had come to Orham on an errand, he explained, and had stopped at the windmill shop to see Mr. Winslow.  Finding the latter out, he had taken the liberty of following him to the Hunniwell home.

“I’m going to stay but a moment, Captain Hunniwell,” he went on.  “I wanted to talk with Winslow on a—­well, on a business matter.  Of course I won’t do it now but perhaps we can arrange a time convenient for us both when I can.”

“Don’t cal’late there’ll be much trouble about that,” observed the captain, with a chuckle.  “Jed generally has time convenient for ’most everybody; eh, Jed?”

Jed nodded.  “Um-hm,” he drawled, “for everybody but Gab Bearse.”

“So you and Jed are goin’ to talk business, eh?” queried Captain Sam, much amused at the idea.  “Figgerin’ to have him rig up windmills to drive those flyin’ machines of yours, Major?”