“I should like to see it,” answered Helen, smiling; “I have a passion for fixing up things.”

“We had an exciting time at the sale,” went on Mr. Harrison reminiscently.  “You know Mr. Everson’s family wanted to keep the place themselves, and the three or four branches of the family had clubbed together to buy it; when the bidding got near the end, there was no one left but the family and myself.”

“And you got it?” said Helen.  “How cruel!”

“The strongest wins,” laughed the other.  “I had made up my mind to have it.  The Eversons are a very aristocratic family, aren’t they?”

“Yes,” said Helen, “very, indeed; they have lived in this part of the country since the Revolution.”  As Mr. Harrison went on to tell her the story of the sale she found herself vividly reminded of what her aunt had told her of the difference between having a good deal of money and all the money one wanted.  Perhaps, also, her companion was not without some such vaguely felt purpose in the telling.  At any rate, the girl was trembling inwardly more and more at the prospect which was unfolding itself before her; as excitement always acted upon her as a stimulant, she was at her very best during the rest of the drive.  She and her companion were conversing very merrily indeed when Fairview was reached.

The very beginning of the place was imposing, for there was a high wall along the roadway for perhaps a quarter of a mile, and then two massive iron gates set in great stone pillars; they were opened by the gate-keeper in response to Mr. Harrison’s call.  Once inside the two had a drive of some distance through what had once been a, handsome park, though it was a semi-wilderness then.  The road ascended somewhat all the way, until the end of the forest was reached, and the first view of the house was gained; Helen could scarcely restrain a cry of pleasure as she saw it, for it was really a magnificent old mansion, built of weather-beaten gray stone, and standing upon a high plateau, surrounded by a lawn and shaded by half a dozen great oaks; below it the lawn sloped in a broad terrace, and in the valley thus formed gleamed a little trout-pond, set off at the back by a thickly-wooded hillside.

“Isn’t it splendid!” the girl exclaimed, gazing about her.

“I thought it was rather good,” said Mr. Harrison, deprecatingly.  “It can be made much finer, of course.”

“When you take your last year’s hay crop from the lawn, for one thing,” laughed she.  “But I had no idea there was anything so beautiful near our little Oakdale.  Just look at that tremendous entrance!”

“It’s all built in royal style,” said Mr. Harrison.  “The family must have been wealthy in the old days.”

“Probably slave-dealers, or something of that kind,” observed Helen.  “Is the house all furnished inside?”

“Yes,” said the other, “but I expect to do most of it over.  Wouldn’t you like to look?” He asked the question as he saw the gate-keeper coming up the road, presumably with the keys.