Mr. and Mrs. Dinsmore and Mrs. Travilla reached Philadelphia safely, without accident or detention, spent a few days with their relatives there, then, being urgently invited to pay a visit to the family of their cousin Donald Keith—the brother of our old friend Mildred, wife of Dr. Landreth, of Pleasant Plains, and father of Mary Keith, with whom Edward and Violet spent some time in a cottage at Ocean Beach in the summer after the death of their father—they did so.

About six years had passed since then. Some of Mary’s younger brothers and sisters had grown up and married, so that her burdens were much lightened, but she herself was still single and at home in her father’s house.

Time seemed to have stood still with her. They found her the same bright, cheery girl, looking scarcely older than she had looked six years ago.

She was delighted to see again these relatives whom she had met and learned to love during that ever-to-be-remembered summer in the cottage by the sea, and very glad to hear all they had to tell of the cousins who had helped to make enjoyable her effort at housekeeping then and there. She had many questions to ask about them and the little ones, and expressed an ardent desire to see them all again, to which her cousin Elsie replied: “We are expecting to return home in a fortnight, or a little sooner, and will be glad to take you with us if you will go, Mary; will you not, dear girl?”

“Cousin Elsie, how very kind in you!” exclaimed Mary, both tone and look full of delight. “But,” she added with a doubtful glance at her mother, “I fear I could hardly be spared from home.”

“Now don’t be so conceited, Mary Keith,” laughed that lady, with a mischievous glance into the flushed, eager face of her eldest daughter. “I think I am quite capable of keeping house and attending to all family affairs without a particle of aid from you. So if Cousin Elsie wants you and you want to go, I advise you to set to work at once at your preparations—putting your wardrobe in perfect order and adding to it whatever may be needed. Oh, you needn’t look doubtful and troubled! Your father has been greatly prospered of late, and I know will not feel any necessity or inclination to deny anything desirable to the good daughter who has been a very great help and comfort to him and me through years of toil and struggle.”

Mary was affected even to tears. “O mother, how good and kind in you to say all that!” she faltered. “I have done no more than my duty—hardly even so much, I fear.”

“Possibly your father and I may be as capable of judging of that as yourself,” returned Mrs. Keith in the same tone of careless gayety she had used before; “and we think—for we were talking the matter over only the other day—that our eldest daughter deserves and needs some weeks of recreation this summer. We were discussing the comparative merits of sea and mountain air, but finally decided to leave the selection to yourself; and now doubtless Cousin Elsie’s kind invitation will decide you in favor of a trip to the South, even in spite of its climate being less suitable for the warm weather than our own.”

“It will be a change for her, at all events,” Elsie said, “and when we come North again, as we expect to do in a few weeks, we may, I think, hope to return her to you rested and invigorated. Or, still better, we will hope to take her, with your consent, with us to the sea-shore for a good rest there before returning her to you.”

Mrs. Keith and Mary returned warm thanks for this second invitation, but it was not at that time definitely settled whether or not it could or would be finally accepted.

“Ah, mother dear, I see now why you insisted this spring on my buying and having made up more and handsomer dresses than ever I had in one season before,” Mary said presently with an affectionate look and smile into Mrs. Keith’s pleasant and still comely face.

“Yes, it is always wise to be ready for sudden emergencies,” returned the mother playfully, “and I think you can easily be ready for a visit to Ion by the time Cousin Elsie will be on her way home from Princeton.”

“Our plan is to start for home in about a week,” Elsie said, “as the commencement will be over by that time, and my boys, Harold and Herbert, ready to accompany us.”

“You are making us a very short visit, Cousin Elsie,” remarked Mrs. Keith. “I hope when you come up North again you will piece it out with a much longer one.”

“Thank you,” returned Elsie. “I should enjoy doing so, and perhaps may be able to; but our plans for the season are not arranged.”

Then turning to Mary, “Our party is to pass through Philadelphia on our return after the commencement. Can you not arrange to meet us there so that we may travel the rest of the way to Ion in company?”

“I think so,” was the reply. “Can I not, mamma?”

“I see nothing to prevent,” said her mother. “We will have you there in season if our cousins will let us know what train you are to meet.”

Mr. Dinsmore came in at that moment, and with his good help the arrangements were presently satisfactorily completed.

To the great delight of Harold and Herbert, their grandfather and mother arrived safely in Princeton on the evening of the day before commencement.

The young men, though looking somewhat overworked, yet seemed in good health and good spirits. They had passed successfully through their examination and the next day were graduated with high honors.

Both grandfather and mother showed by their looks, manner, and words of commendation and congratulation that they were highly gratified and not a little proud of their bright, intelligent, industrious lads.

“And now, my sons, I suppose you are quite ready for home?” their grandfather said when the congratulations were over.

“Almost ready to start for it, grandpa,” Harold replied with a joyous laugh. Then turning to his mother, “Mamma, I have a request to make, and I do not think you or grandpa will object to its being granted.”

“Not if it is anything reasonable, my dear boy,” she returned. “Are you desirous to invite some friend to accompany us to Ion?”

“Ah, mother mine,” he laughed, “you certainly are good at guessing. Yes, I should like to give a warm invitation from grandpa, you, and ourselves to a classmate whose home is closed at present, his parents being in Europe for the health of his mother, who is a sad invalid. William Croly is his name—Will we call him—and he is as good, bright, and lovable a fellow as could be found anywhere.”

“He is indeed, mamma,” said Herbert. “I esteem him as highly as Harold does.”

“Then I think he will be a very welcome guest at Ion,” Mrs. Travilla returned with a look of inquiry at her father, as if she would consult his wishes as well as her own and those of her sons.

“I should ask him by all means,” said Mr. Dinsmore. “I judge from the recommendation just given that he will prove a pleasant guest; besides, the Bible bids us ‘use hospitality without grudging.’”

“And that is one thing I am sure you and mother love to do, grandpa,” returned Herbert, giving a look of affectionate admiration to first one, then the other.

“Yes, it is a great pleasure, therefore hardly meritorious,” his grandfather said with a smile.

“Then I may bring Croly and introduce him, may I not?” asked Harold.

A ready assent was given in reply. Harold hurried away and presently returned, bringing with him a young man who had a very pleasant, bright face and refined, gentlemanly manners.

Mr. Dinsmore and his daughter gave him a pleasant greeting and kindly shake of the hand as Harold introduced him, and after a little a cordial invitation to accompany them on their return to Ion and remain until they should all come North again for the summer.

Croly was evidently delighted with the invitation, and it did not take much urging to induce him to accept it.

That evening they all journeyed to Philadelphia, where they were joined by Mrs. Dinsmore and Mary Keith, and the next morning the whole party started southward, a pleasant, jovial company.

They met with no accident or detention, and were greeted with the warmest of welcomes on their arrival at Ion at an early hour on the second day.

They took some hours of rest and sleep, then were able to enjoy the family gathering which had been planned by Elsie’s sons and daughters to celebrate the safe return of their loved mother and grandparents from their visit to the North and the home-coming of the young graduates.

The children and young people were included in the invitation, and not a single one failed to be present. From Woodburn, the Oaks, Pinegrove, Roselands, the Laurels, and Fairview they came, forming of themselves alone a goodly company, full of mirth and jollity, which was in no way checked by any of their elders, with whom they remained for a time, hanging about those who had been absent from home, particularly Grandma Elsie, and next to her the young uncles, who had been away so long that they seemed almost as strangers to the very little ones; pleasant and attractive strangers, however, inclined to make much of their little nieces and nephews, a business in which their college friend, Will Croly, took an active part.

Almost every one presently forsook the rooms and verandas to sit beneath the trees or wander here and there about the beautiful, well-kept grounds, visiting the gardens, hot-houses, and the lovely little lakelet.

A handsome rowboat was there and the young men invited the older girls to take a row around the pretty little sheet of water. Marian McAlpine, Evelyn Leland, Rosie Travilla, and the two Dinsmore girls from the Oaks accepted, but Lulu Raymond, who was with them, regretfully declined, saying she knew papa would be displeased if she went without his knowledge and consent.

“Why, Lu, you are growing remarkably good and obedient,” laughed Sidney Dinsmore.

“For which we should all honor her,” said Harold. “The captain is one of the best and kindest of fathers and his requirements are never unreasonable.”

“Oh, of course not,” laughed Sidney; “only I’m glad he hasn’t the care of me and control of my actions.”

“I’m glad that he has of me and mine,” returned Lulu rather hotly as the boat pushed out into the water, leaving her standing alone on the shore gazing wistfully after it. “How delightful it looks,” she sighed to herself. “I wish I had thought of the possibility of such an invitation and got papa’s permission beforehand.”

“You did right, little girl, and I am very sure that when your papa hears of it he will commend you in a way that will give you far more pleasure than the row could have done if taken without his permission,” said a voice from behind her, and turning to look for the speaker, she found Mr. Lilburn close at hand.

“Thank you, sir,” she replied with a pleasant smile. “I wanted badly to go, yet I know I couldn’t have enjoyed it without papa’s permission.”

“I should hope not indeed,” returned the old gentleman.

“Oh, Mr. Lilburn,” cried Lulu, struck with a sudden thought, “there are several in our company here this afternoon who know nothing of your ventriloquial powers. Can’t you think of some way of using them that will puzzle the strangers and furnish amusement for us all?”

“Suppose we consider that question—you and I,” he returned with a smile. “Have you any suggestion to make?”

“How would it do to make them hear trumpets or bugles or something of that kind in the woods near by, as you did to the Ku Klux years ago?” she asked in eager tones, adding: “Grandma Elsie has told us the story of their attack on this place when Mamma Vi was quite a little girl.”

“Ah, yes, I remember,” he said with a slight smile. “Let us sit down here,” leading her to a rustic seat near at hand, “and I will see what I can do to excite the curiosity of the strangers.”

“Oh, I’m glad now I was left behind!” Lulu exclaimed as she took the offered seat and turned an excited, expectant face toward her companion.

For a minute or more he seemed buried in thought, then suddenly the clear notes of a bugle seemed to come from behind a clump of trees a few rods distant from where they sat.

Lulu was startled for an instant and turned in that direction, half expecting to catch a glimpse of the bugler. Then she laughed and clapped her hands softly.

“Oh, that’s lovely!” she said. “They’ll be sure there’s somebody there and wonder who it can be. Yes, see how they are turning their heads in that direction.”

“Can you see the expression o’ ony o’ their countenances, bit lassie? I canna, for my eyes are growing old.”

“Yes, sir. I can see that Miss Keith looks startled and astonished and seems to be questioning Uncle Harold, and that Mr. Croly is laughing and trying his best to catch a peep at the trumpeter. The others I think look as if they are trying to keep from laughing. I dare say they see you here, sir, and can guess what it means. Oh, there’s our Prince! He seems to be in search of the trumpeter.”

Even as Lulu spoke she was startled by another bugle-blast seemingly directly behind them, or from the branches of the tree under which they sat.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, turning quickly to look behind her; then with a merry laugh, “I wasn’t expecting your bugler to come so very near, sir.”

But the concluding words were almost drowned in Prince’s loud bark as he came bounding toward them, evidently in search of the intruding bugler.

“Find him, Prince, find him as fast as you can and teach him not to intrude into the Ion grounds,” laughed Lulu.

But the bugler’s notes had already died away and Prince’s bark changed to a low growl as he searched for him here and there, but vainly.

“So you have a bugler on the estate, eh?” Croly was saying, with an inquiring glance at Harold. “One of your darkies, I presume? They are a musical race, I know.”

“They are,” Harold replied with unmoved countenance.

“I thought the notes musical and pleasant,” observed Miss Keith, “but they do not seem to have taken the fancy of your dog.”

“Prince—a fine fellow, by the way—is not our dog, but belongs to Max Raymond,” said Herbert. “No, he does not seem to fancy the intruder, whoever he may be.”

“Hark!” cried Rosie, “the bugler is at it again.”

“And this time it is a Scotch air,” remarked Mary Keith. “How soft and sweet it sounds! But it comes from quite another quarter; yet I do not know how the bugler can have changed his position so entirely without any of us catching sight of him as he went.”

“It does seem odd,” said Croly. But his words were nearly drowned in the loud bark of Prince as he rushed in the new direction, with evident intent to oust the intruder this time. His effort was, however, as complete a failure as the former one. The notes of the bugle died softly away, the dog sniffed about the tree from which they had seemed to come, but finally gave it up and trotted away in the direction of the house. “Point out that bugler to me when we come across him, won’t you, Harold?”

“Really I never knew that we had a bugler among our servants,” returned Harold evasively.

“Nor I,” said Herbert. “But,” taking out his watch, “it is nearing tea-time, and as we are likely to find plenty of opportunities for this kind of sport, I think we had better now return to the house.”

No one objected, the boat was immediately headed for the wharf, and all had presently landed and were sauntering along by the way that they had come, Mr. Lilburn and Lulu accompanying them.