On the afternoon of the day on which Mrs Keswick's letter arrived at
Midbranch, Peggy had great news to communicate to Aunt Judy, the cook:
"Miss Rob's gwine to Mahs' Junius' house in de kerridge, an' I's gwine
'long wid her to set in front wid Sam."

"Mahs' Junius aint got no house," said Aunt Judy, turning around very suddenly. "Does you mean she gwine ter old Miss Keswick's?"

"Yaas," answered Peggy.

"Well, den, why don' you say so? Dat aint Mahs' Junius' house nohow, though he lib dar as much as he lib anywhar. Wot she gwine dar fur?"

"Gwine to git married, I reckon," said Peggy.

"Git out!" ejaculated Aunt Judy. "Wid you fur bride'maid?"

"Dunno," answered Peggy. "She done tole me she didn't think she'd have much use fur me, but Mahs' Robert, he said it were too far fur her to go widout a maid; but ef she want me fur bride'maid I'll do dat too."

"You bawn fool!" shouted Aunt Judy. "You ain't got sense 'nuf to hock the frocks ob de bridesmaids. An dat's all fool talk about Miss Rob gwine dar to be married. When she an' Mahs' Junius hab de weddin', dey'll hab it h'yar, ob course. She gwine to see ole Miss Keswick, coz dat's de way de fus' fam'lies allus does afore dey hab dere weddin'. I's pow'ful glad she's gwine dar, instid ob ole Miss Keswick comin' h'yar. I don' wan' her kunjerin' me, an' she'd do dat as quick as winkin' ef de batter bread's a leetle burned, or dar's too much salt in de soup. You's got to keep youse'f mighty straight, you Peggy, when you gits whar ole Miss Keswick is. Don' you come none ob your fool tricks, or she kunjer you, an' one ob your legs curl up like a pig's tail, an' neber uncurl no moh'. How you like dat?"

To this Peggy made no reply, but with her eyes steadfastly fixed on Aunt Judy, and her lower jaw very much dropped, she mentally resolved to keep herself as straight as possible during her stay at the Keswick's.

"Dar's ole Aun' Patsy," continued the speaker. "It's a mighty long time sence I've seen Aun' Patsy. Dat was when I went ober dar wid Miss Rob's mudder when de two fam'lys was fren's. I was her maid, an' went wid her jes as Mahs' Robert wants you ter go 'long wid Miss Rob. He ain't gwine to furgit how they did in de ole times when de ladies went visitin' in dere kerridges fur to stay free, four days. Aun' Patsy were pow'ful ole den, but she didn't die soon 'nuf, an' ole Miss Keswick she kunjer her, an' now she can't die at all."

"Neber die!" ejaculated Peggy.

"Neber die, nohow!" answered Aunt Judy. "Mighty offen she thought she gwine to die but 'twarnt no use. She can't do it. An' de las' time I hear ob her, she alibe yit, jes' de same as eber. An' dar was Mahs' John Keswick. She cunjer him coz he rode de gray colt to de Coht House when she done tole him to let dat gray colt alone, coz 'twarnt hisen but hern, an' he go shoot hese'f dead by de gate pos'. You's got to go fru by dat pos' when you go inter de gate."

"Dat same pos'!" cried Peggy.

"Yaas," said Aunt Judy, "dat same one. An' dey tells me dat on third Chewsdays, which is Coht day, de same as when he took de gray colt, as soon as it git dark he ghos' climb up to de top ob dat pos', an' set dar all night."

With a conjuring old woman in the house, and a monthly ghost on the gate-post outside, the Keswick residence did not appear as attractive to Peggy as it had done before, but she mentally determined that while she was there she would be very careful to look out sharp for herself, a performance for which she was very well adapted.

It was on a pleasant autumn morning that Mr Brandon very carefully ensconced his niece in the family carriage, with Peggy and a trusty negro man, Sam, on the outside front seat. "I would gladly go with you, my dear," he said, "even without the formality of an invitation, but it is far better for you to go by yourself. My very presence would provoke an antagonism in the old lady, while with you, personally, it is impossible that any such feeling should exist. I hope your visit may do away with all ill feeling between our families."

"I want you to understand, uncle," said Miss Roberta, "that I am making this visit almost entirely to please you, and I shall do everything in my power to make Mrs Keswick feel that you and I are perfectly well disposed toward her; but you can't expect me to exhibit any great warmth of friendship toward a person who once used such remarkable and violent expressions in regard to me."

"But those feelings, my dear," said Mr Brandon, "if we are to believe
Mrs Keswick's letter, have entirely disappeared."

"It is quite natural that they should do so," said Roberta, "as there is no longer any reason for them. And there is another thing I want to impress on your mind, Uncle Robert, you must expect no result from this visit except a renewal of amity between yourself and Mrs Keswick."

"I understand it perfectly," said the old gentleman, feeling quite confident that if his family and Mrs Keswick should once again become friendly, the main object of his desires would not be difficult of accomplishment. "And now, my dear, I will not detain you any longer. I hope you may have a very pleasant visit, and I advise you to cultivate that young Mrs Null, whom I take to be a very sensible and charming person." And then he kissed her good-bye and shut the carriage door.

It was about the middle of the afternoon when Sam drove through the outer Keswick gate, and Peggy, who had jumped down to open said gate, had made herself positively sure that, at present, there was no ghost sitting upon the post. Before she reached the house, Roberta began to wonder a good deal if she should find Mrs Keswick the woman she had pictured in her mind. But when the carriage drew up in front of the porch there came out to meet her, not the mistress of the estate, but a much younger lady, who tripped down the steps and reached Roberta as she descended from the carriage.

"We are very glad to see you, Miss March," she said. "My aunt is not here just now, but will be back directly."

"This is Mrs Null, isn't it?" said Roberta, and as the other smiled and answered with a slight flush that it was, Roberta stooped just the little that was necessary, and kissed her. Mrs Keswick's niece had not expected so warm a greeting from this lady, to whom she was almost a stranger, and instantly she said to herself: "In that kiss Freddy dies to you." For some days she had been turning over and over in her mind the question whether or not she should tell Roberta March that she was not Mrs Null. She greatly disliked keeping up the deception where it was not necessary, and with Roberta, if she would keep the secret, there was no need of this aerial matrimony. Besides her natural desire to confide in a person of her own sex and age, she did not wish Mr Croft to be the only one who shared her secret; and so she had determined that her decision would depend on what sort of girl Roberta proved to be. "If I like her I'll tell her; if I don't, I won't," was the final decision. And when Roberta March looked down upon her with her beautiful eyes and kissed her, Freddy Null departed this life so far as those two were concerned.

Mrs Keswick had, apparently, made a very great miscalculation in regard to the probable time of arrival of her guest, for Miss March and Peggy, and even Sam and the horses, had been properly received and cared for, and Miss March had been sitting in the parlor for some time, and still the old lady did not come into the house. Her niece had grown very anxious about this absence, and had begun to fear that her aunt had treated Miss March as she had treated her on her arrival, and had gone away to stay. But Plez, whom she had sent to tell his mistress that her visitor was in the house, returned with the information that "ole miss" was in one of the lower fields directing some men who were digging a ditch, and that she would return to the house in a very short time. Thus assured that no permanent absence was intended, she went into the parlor to entertain Miss March, and to explain, as well as she could, the state of affairs; when, as she entered the door, she saw that lady suddenly arise and look steadfastly out of the window.

"Can that be Mr Croft?" Miss March exclaimed.

The younger girl made a dash forward and also looked out of the window. Yes, there was Mr Croft, riding across the yard toward the tree where horses were commonly tied.

"Did you expect him?" asked Roberta, quickly.

"No more than I expected the man in the moon," was the impulsive and honest answer of her companion.

"I am very glad to see you, Mrs Null," said Lawrence, when that lady met him on the porch. And when he was shown into the parlor, he greeted Miss March with much cordiality, but no surprise. But when he inquired after other members of the family, he was much surprised to find that Mr Keswick had gone to Washington. "Was not this very unexpected, Mrs Null?" he asked.

"Why, no," she answered. "Junius told us, almost as soon as he came here, that he would have to be in Washington by the first of this week."

Mr Croft did not pursue this subject further, but presently remarked:
"Are you and I the first comers, Miss March?"

Roberta looked from one of her companions to the other, and remarked: "I do not understand you."

Lawrence now perceived that he was treading a very uncertain and, perhaps, dangerous path of conversation, and the sooner he got out of it the better; but, before he could decide what answer to make, a silent and stealthy figure appeared at the door, beckoning and nodding in a very mysterious way. This proved to be the plump black maid, Letty, who, having attracted the attention of the company, whispered loudly, "Miss Annie!" whereupon that young lady immediately left the room.

"What other comers did you expect?" then asked Roberta of Mr Croft.

"I certainly supposed there would be a small company here," he said, "probably neighborhood people, but if I was mistaken, of course I don't wish to say anything more about it to the family."

"Were you invited yourself?" asked Roberta.

Croft wished very much that he could say that he had accidentally dropped in. But this he could not do, and he answered that Mrs Keswick asked him to come about this time. He did not consider it necessary to add that she had written to him at the Springs, renewing her invitation very earnestly, and mentioning that Miss March had consented to make one of the party.

This was as far as Roberta saw fit to continue the subject, on the present occasion; and she began to talk about the charming weather, and the pretty way in which the foliage was reddening on the side of a hill opposite the window. Mr Croft was delighted to enter into this new channel of speech, and discussed with considerable fervor the attractiveness of autumn in Virginia. Miss Annie found Letty in a very disturbed state of mind. The dinner had been postponed until the arrival of Miss March, and now it had been still further delayed by the non-arrival of the mistress of the house, and everything was becoming dried up, and unfit to eat. "This will never do!" exclaimed Miss Annie. "I will go myself and look for aunt. She must have forgotten the time of day, and everything else."

Putting on her hat she ran out of the back door, but she did not have to go very far, for she found the old lady in the garden, earnestly regarding a bed of turnips. "Where have you been, my dear aunt?" cried the girl. "Miss March has been here ever so long, and Mr Croft has come, and dinner has been waiting until it has all dried up. I was afraid that you had forgotten that company was coming to-day."

"Forgotten!" said the old lady, glaring at the turnips. "It isn't an easy thing to forget. I invited the girl, and I expected her to come, but I tell you, Annie, when I saw that carriage coming along the road, all the old feeling came back to me. I remembered what its owners had done to me and mine, and what they are still trying to do, and I felt I could not go into the house, and give her my hand. It would be like taking hold of a snake."

"A snake!" cried her niece, with much warmth. "She is a lovely woman! And her coming shows what kindly feelings she has for you. But, no matter what you think about it, aunt, you have asked her here, and you must come in and see her. Dinner is waiting, and I don't know what more to say about your absence."

"Go in and have dinner," said Mrs Keswick. "Don't wait for me. I'll come in and see her after a while; but I haven't yet got to the point of sitting down to the table and eating with her."

"Oh, aunt!" exclaimed Annie, "you ought never to have asked her if you are going to treat her in this way! And what am I to say to her? What excuse am I to make? Are you not sick? Isn't something the matter with you?"

"You can tell them I'm flustrated," said the old lady, "and that is all that's the matter with me. But I'm not coming in to dinner, and there is no use of saying anything more about it."

Annie looked at her, the tears of mortification still standing in her eyes. "I suppose I must go and do the best I can," she said, "but, aunt, please tell me one thing. Did you invite any other people here? Mr Croft spoke as if he expected to see other visitors, and if they ask anything more about it, I don't know what to say."

"The only other people I invited," said the old lady with a grim grin, "were the King of Norway, and the Prime Minister of Spain, and neither of them could come." Annie said no more, but hurrying back to the house, she ordered dinner to be served immediately. At first the meal was not a very lively one. The young hostess pro tempore explained the absence of the mistress of the house by stating that she had had a nervous attack—which was quite true—and that she begged them to excuse her until after dinner. The two guests expressed their regret at this unfortunate indisposition, but each felt a degree of embarrassment at the absence of Mrs Keswick. Roberta, who had heard many stories of the old woman, guessed at the true reason, and if the distance had not been so great, she would have gone home that afternoon. Lawrence Croft, of course, could imagine no reason for the old lady's absence, except the one that had been given them, but he suspected that there must be some other. He did his best, however, to make pleasant conversation; and Roberta, who began to have a tender feeling for the little lady at the head of the table, who, she could easily see, had been placed in an unpleasant position, seconded his efforts with such effect that, when the little party had concluded their dinner with a course of hot pound cake and cream sauce, they were chatting together quite sociably.

In about ten minutes after they had all gone into the parlor, Miss Annie excused herself, and presently returned with a message to Miss March that Mrs Keswick would be very glad to see her in another room. This was a very natural message from an elderly lady, who was not well, but Roberta arose and walked out of the parlor with a feeling as if she were about to enter the cage of an erratic tigress. But she met with no such creature. She saw in the back room, into which she was ushered, a small old woman, dressed very plainly, who came forward to meet her, extending both hands, into one of which Roberta placed one of her own.

"I may as well say at once, Roberta March," said Mrs Keswick, "that the reason I didn't come to meet you when you first arrived was, that I couldn't get over, all of a sudden, the feelings I have had against your family for so many years."

"Why then, Mrs Keswick," said Roberta, very coldly, "did you ask me to come?"

"Because I wanted you to come," said Mrs Keswick, "and because I thought I was stronger than I turned out to be; but you must make allowances for the stiffness which gets into old people's dispositions as well as their backs. I want you to understand, however, that I meant all I said in that letter, and I am very glad to see you. If anything in my conduct has seemed to you out of the way, you must set it down to the fact that I was making a very sudden turn, and starting out on a new track in which I hope we shall all keep for the rest of our lives."

Roberta could not help thinking that the sudden turn in the new track began with the visit of her uncle to this house, and that the old lady need not have inflicted upon her the disagreeable necessity of witnessing a hostess taking a very repulsive cold plunge; but all she said was that she hoped the families would now live together in friendly relations; and that she was sure that, if this were to be, it would give her uncle a great deal of pleasure. She very much wanted to ask Mrs Keswick how Mr Croft happened to be here at this time, but she felt that her very brief acquaintance with the lady would not warrant the discussion of a subject like that.

"She is very much the kind of woman I thought she was," said Roberta to herself, when, after some further hospitable remarks from Mrs Keswick, the two went to the parlor together to find Mr Croft. But that gentleman, having been deserted by all the ladies, was walking up and down the greensward in front of the house, smoking a cigar. Mrs Keswick went out to him, and greeted him very cordially, begging him to excuse her for not being able to see him as soon as he came.

Lawrence set all this aside in his politest manner, but declared himself very much disappointed in not seeing Mr Keswick, and also remarked that from what she had said to him on his last visit he had expected to find quite a little party here.

"I am sorry," said the old lady, "that Junius is away, for he would be very glad to see you, and it never came into my mind to mention to you that he was obliged to be in Washington at this time. And, as for the party, I thought afterwards that it would be a great deal cosier just to have a few persons here."

"Oh, yes," said Lawrence, "most certainly, a great deal cosier."

Mrs Keswick ate supper with her guests, and behaved very well. During the evening she sustained the main part of the conversation, giving the company a great many anecdotes and reminiscences of old times and old families, relating them in an odd and peculiar way that was very interesting, especially to Croft, to whom the subject matter was quite new. But, although her three companions listened to the old lady with deferential attention, interspersed with appropriate observations, each one made her the object of severe mental scrutiny, and endeavored to discover the present object of her scheming old mind. Roberta was quite sure that her invitation and that of Mr Croft was a piece of artful management on the part of the old lady, and imagined, though she was not quite sure about it, that it was intended as a bit of match-making. To get her married to somebody else, would be, of course, the best possible method of preventing her marrying Junius; and this, she had reason to believe, was the prime object of old Mrs Keswick's existence. But why should Mr Croft be chosen as the man with whom she was to be thrown. She had learned that the old lady had seen him before, but was quite certain that her acquaintance with him was slight. Could Junius have told his aunt about the friendship between herself and Mr Croft? It was not like him, but a great many unlikely things take place.

As for Lawrence, he knew very well there was a trick beneath his invitation, but he could not at all make out why it had been played. He had been given an admirable opportunity of offering himself to Miss March, but there was no reason, apparent to him, why this should have been done.

Miss Annie, watching her aunt very carefully, and speaking but seldom, quite promptly made up her mind in regard to the matter. She knew very well the bitter opposition of the old woman to a marriage between Junius and Miss March; and saw, as plainly as she saw the lamp on the table, that Roberta had been brought here on purpose to be sacrificed to Mr Croft. Everything had been made ready, the altar cleared, and, as well as the old lady's grindstone would act, the knife sharpened. "But," said Miss Annie to herself, "she needn't suppose that I am going to sit quiet and see all this going on, with Junius away off there in Washington, knowing nothing about any of it."

Miss Roberta retired quite early to her room, having been fatigued by her long drive, and she was just about to put out her light when she heard a little knock at the door. Opening it slightly, she saw there Junius Keswick's cousin, who also appeared quite ready for bed.

"May I come in for a minute?" said Annie.

"Certainly," replied Miss March, admitting her, and closing the door after her.

"I have something to tell you," said the younger lady, admiring as she spoke, the length of her companion's braided hair. "I intended to keep it until to-morrow, but since I came up stairs I felt I could not let you sleep a night under the same roof with me without knowing it. I am not Mrs Null."

"What!" exclaimed Roberta, in a tone which made Annie lift up her hands and implore her not to speak so loud, for fear that her aunt should hear her. "I know she hasn't come up stairs yet, for she sits up dreadfully late, but she can hear things, almost anywhere. No, I am not Mrs Null. There is no such person as Mr Null, or, at least, he is a mere gaseous myth, whom I married for the sake of the protection his name gave me."

"This is the most extraordinary thing I ever heard," said Roberta. "You must tell me all about it."

"I don't want to keep you up," said Annie, "you must be tired."

"I am not tired," said Roberta, "for every particle of fatigue has flown away." And with this she made Annie sit down beside her on the lounge. "Now you must tell me what this means," she said. "Can it be that your aunt does not know about it?"

"Indeed, she does not," said Annie. "I married Freddy Null in New York, for reasons which we need not talk of now, for that matter is all past and gone; but when I came here, I found almost immediately, that he would be more necessary to me in this house than anywhere else."

"I cannot imagine," said Roberta, "why a gaseous husband should be necessary to you here."

"It is not a very easy thing to explain," said the other, "that is, it is easy enough, but—"

"Oh," said Roberta, catching the reason of her companion's hesitation, "I don't think you ought to object to tell me your reason. Does it relate to your cousin Junius?"

"Well," said Annie, "not altogether, and not so much to him as to my aunt." "I think I see," said Roberta. "A marriage between you two would suit her very well. Are you afraid that she would try to force him on you?"

"Oh, no;" said Annie, "that would be bad enough, but it would not be so embarrassing, and so dreadfully unpleasant, as forcing me on him, and that is what aunt wants to do. And you can easily see that, in that case, I could not stay in this house at all. I scarcely know my cousin as a man, my strongest recollection of him being that of a big and very nice boy, who used to climb up in the apple-trees to get me apples, and then come down to the very lowest branch where he could drop the ripest ones right into my apron, and not bruise them. But, even if I had been acquainted with him all these years, and liked him ever so much, I couldn't stay here and have aunt make him take me, whether he wanted to, or not. And, unless you knew my aunt very well, you could not conceive how unscrupulously straightforward she is in carrying out her plans."

"And so," said Roberta, "you have quite baffled her by this little ruse of a marriage."

"Not altogether," said Annie with a smile, "for she vows she is going to get me divorced from Mr Null."

"That is funnier than the rest of it," said Roberta, laughing. And they both laughed together, but in a subdued way, so as not to attract the attention of the old lady below stairs. "And now, you see," said Annie, "why I must be Mrs Null while I stay here. And you will promise me that you will never tell any one?"

"You may be sure I shall keep your queer secret. But have you not told it to any one but me?"

"Yes," said Annie, "but I have only told it to one other, Mr Croft. But please don't speak of it to him."

"Mr Croft!" exclaimed Roberta. "How in the world did you come to tell him? Do you know him so well as that?"

"Well," said Annie, "it does seem out of the way, I admit, that I should
tell him, but I can't give you the whole story of how I came to do it.
It wouldn't interest you—at least, it would, but I oughtn't to tell it.
It is a twisty sort of thing."

"Twisty?" said Roberta, drawing herself up, and a little away from her companion.

Annie looked up, and caught the glance by which this word was accompanied, and the tone in which it was spoken went straight to her soul. "Now," said she, "if you are going to look at me, and speak in that way, I'll tell you every bit of it." And she did tell the whole story, from her first meeting with Mr Croft in the Information Shop, down to the present moment.

"What is your name, anyway?" said Roberta, when the story had been told.

"My name," said the other, "is Annie Peyton."

"And now, do you know, Annie Peyton," said Roberta, passing her fingers gently among the short, light-brown curls on her companion's forehead, "that I think you must have a very, very kindly recollection of the boy who used to come down to the lowest branches of the tree to drop apples into your apron."