on　like　two　tufts　of　cotton…wool；　nose　big　and　strong；　square　jaw　hanging　on　a　hinge　that　opened　and　shut　with　each　sentence；　the　upper　part　of　the　face　remaining　motionless　as　a　mask。　Oliver　remembered　having　once　seen　a　toy　ogre　with　a　jaw　and　face　that　worked　in　the　same　way。　He　had　caught；　too；　the　bend　of　his　thin　legs；　the　hump　of　the　high　shoulders；　and　saw　the　brown　skin　of　the　neck　showing　through　the　close…cut　white　hair。　Suddenly　　a　feeling　of　repugnance　amounting　almost　to　a　shrinking　dislike　of　the　man　took　possession　of　him　it　is　just　such　trifles　that　turn　the　scales　of　likes　and　dislikes　for　all　of　us。　〃Could　this　really　be　Margaret's　father？〃　he　said　to　himself。　Through　whose　veins；　then；　had　all　her　charm　and　loveliness　come？　Certainly　not　from　this　cold　man　without　grace　of　speech　or　polish　of　manner。
  This　feeling　of　repugnance　had　come　with　a　flash；　and　in　a　flash　it　was　gone。　On　the　top　step　of　the　low　piazza　stood　a　young　girl　in　white；　a　rose　in　her　hair；　her　arm　around　a　silver…haired　old　lady　in　gray　silk；　With　a　broad　white　handkerchief　crossed　over　her　bosom。
  Oliver's　hat　was　off　in　an　instant。
  Margaret　came　down　one　step　to　greet　him　and　held　out　both　her　hands。　〃Oh；　we　are　so　glad　to　welcome　you！〃　Then　turning　to　her　companion　she　said：　〃Mother；　this　is　Mr。　Horn；　who　has　been　so　good　to　me　all　summer。〃
  The　old　ladyshe　was　very　deafcupped　one　hand　behind　her　ear；　and　with　a　gracious　smile　extended　　the　other　to　Oliver。
  〃I　am　so　pleased　you　came；　sir；　and　I　want　to　thank　you　for　being　so　kind　to　our　daughter。　Her　brother　John　could　not　go　with　her；　and　husband　and　I　are　most　too　old　to　leave　home　now。〃　The　voice　was　as　sweet　and。　musical　as　a　child's；　not　the　high…keyed；　strained　tone　of　most　deaf　people。　When　they　all　stood　on　the　porch　level　Margaret　touched　Oliver's　arm。
  〃Speak　slowly　and　distinctly；　Ollie；〃　she　whispered；　　〃then　mother　can　hear　you。〃
  Oliver　smiled　in　assent；　took　the　old　lady's　thin　fingers；　and　with　a　cordiality　the　more　pronounced　because　of　a　certain　guilty　sense　he　had　for　his　feeling　　of　repugnance　to　her　father；　said：
  〃Oh；　but　think　what　a　delight　it　was　for　me　to　be　with　her。　Every　day　we　painted　together；　and　you　can't　imagine　how　much　she　taught　me；　you　know　there　is　nobody　in　the　Academy　class　who　draws　as　well　as　your　daughter。〃　A　light　broke　in　Margaret's　eyes　at　this；　but　she　let　him　go　on。　〃She　has　told　you；　of　course；　of　all　the　good　times　we　have　had　while　we　were　at　work〃　（Margaret　had；　but　not　all　of　them）。　〃It　is　I　who　should　thank　YOU；　not　only　for　letting　Miss　Margaret　stay　so　long；　but　for　wanting　　me　to　come　to　you　here　in　your　beautiful　home。　It　is　my　first　visit　to　thisbut　you　are　standing；　I　beg　your　pardon；〃　and　he　looked　about　for　a　chair。
  There　was　only　one　chair　on　the　porchit　was　under　Silas　Grant。
  〃No；　don't　disturb　yourself；　Mr。　Horn；　I　prefer　standing；〃　Mrs。　Grant　answered；　with　a　deprecatory　gesture　as　if　to　detain　Oliver。　No　one　in　Brookfield　ever　intruded　on　Silas　Grant's　rights　to　his　chair；　not　even　his　wife。
  Silas　heard；　but　he　did　not　move；　he　had　performed　his　duty　as　host；　it　was　the　women…folk's　turn　now　to　be　pleasant。　What　he　wanted　was　to　be　let　alone。　All　this　was　in　his　face；　as　he　sat　hunched　up　between　　the　arms　of　the　splint　rocker。
  Despite　the　old　lady's　protest；　Oliver　made　a　step　toward　the　seated　man。　His　impulse　was　to　suggest　　to　his　host　that　the　lady　whom　he　had　honored　by　making　his　wife　was　at　the　moment　standing　on　her　two　little　feet　while　the　lord　of　the　manor　was　quietly　reposing　upon　the　only　chair　on　the　piazza；　a　fact　doubtless　forgotten　by　his　Imperial　Highness。
  Mr。　Grant　had　read　at　a　glance　the　workings　of　the　young　man's　mind；　and　knew　exactly　what　Oliver　wanted；　but　he　did　not　move。　Something　in　the　bend　of　Oliver's　back　as　he　bowed　to　his　wife　had　irritated　him。　He　had　rarely　met　Southerners　of　Oliver's　classnever　one　so　youngand　was　unfamiliar　　with　their　ways。　This　one；　he　thought；　had　evidently　copied　the　airs　of　a　dancing…master；　the　wave　of　Oliver's　handit　was　Richard's　in　reality；　as　were　all　the　boy's　gesturesand　the　fine　speech　he　had　just　made　to　his　wife；　proved　it。　Instantly　the　instinctive　doubt　of　the　Puritan　questioning　the　sincerity　of　whatever　is　gracious　or　spontaneous；　was　roused　in　Silas's　mind。　From　that　moment　he　became　　suspicious　of　the　boy's　genuineness。
  The　old　lady；　however；　was　still　gazing　into　the　boy's　face；　unconscious　of　what　either　her　husband　or　her　guest　was　thinking。
  〃I　am　so　glad　you　like　our　mountains；　Mr。　Horn；〃　she　continued。　〃Mr。　Lowell　wrote　his　beautiful　lines；　'What　is　so　Rare　as　a　Day　in　June；'　in　our　village；　　and　Mr。　Longfellow　never　lets　a　summer　pass　without　spending　a　week　with　us。　And　you　had　a　comfortable　ride　down　the　mountains；　and　were　the　views　enjoyable？〃
  〃Oh；　too　beautiful　for　words！〃　It　was　Margaret　　this　time；　not　the　scenery；　he　could　not　take　his　eyes　from　her；　as　he　caught　the　beauty　of　her　throat　against　the　soft　white　of　her　dress；　and　the　exquisite　tint　of　the　October　rose　in　contrast　with　the　autumnal　browns　of　her　hair。　Never　had　he　dreamed　she　could　be　so　lovely。　He　could　not　believe　for　one　moment　that　she　was　the　Margaret　he　had　known；　any　one　of　the　Margarets；　in　fact。　Certainly　not　that　one　of　the　Academy　school　in　blue　gingham　with　her　drawing…board　in　her　lap；　alone；　self…poised；　and　unapproachable；　among　a　group　of　art…students；　or　that　other　one　in　a　rough　mountain…skirt；　stout…　shoes；　and　a　tam…o'…shanter；　the　gay　and　fearless　　companion；　the　comrade；　the　co…worker。　This　Margaret　　was　a　vision　in　white；　with　arms　bare　to　the　elbow　oh；　such　beautiful　arms！　and　the　grace　and　poise　of　a　duchessa　Margaret　to　be　reverenced　as　well　as　loveda　woman　to　bend　low　to。
  During　this　episode；　in　which　Silas　sat　studying　the　various　expressions　that　flitted　across　Oliver's　face；　Mr。　Grant　shifted　uneasily　in　his　chair。　At　last　his　jaws　closed　with　a　snap；　while　the　two　tufts　of　cotton…wool；　drawn　together　by　a　frown；　deeper　than　any　which　had　yet　crossed　his　face；　made　a　straight　line　of　white。　Oliver's　enthusiastic　outburst　and　the　gesture　which　accompanied　it　had　removed　Silas　Grant's　last　doubt。　His　mind　was　now　made　up。
  The　young　fellow；　however；　rattled　on；　oblivious　now　of　everything　about　him　but　the　joy　of　Margaret's　　presence。
  〃The　view　from　the　bend　of　the　road　was　especially　　fine〃　he　burst　forth　again；　his　eyes　still　on　hers。　〃You　remember；　Miss　Margaret；　your　telling　　me　to　look　out　for　it？〃　（he　couldn't　stand　another　　minute　of　this　unless　she　joined　in　the　talk）。　〃In　my　own　part　of　the　State　we　have　no　great　mountains　nor　any　lovely　brooks　full　of　trout。　And　the　quantity　of　deer　that　are　killed　every　winter　about　here　quite　astonishes　me。　Why；　Mr。　Pollard's　　son　Hank；　so　he　told　me；　shot　fourteen　last　winter；　and　there　were　over　one　hundred　killed　around　Moose　Hillock。　You　see；　our　coast　is　flat；　and　many　of　the　farms　in　my　section　run　down　to　the　water。　We　have；　it　is　true；　a　good　deal　of　game；　but　nothing　like　what　you　have　here；〃　and　he　shrugged　his　shoulders；　and　laughed　lightly　as　if　in　apology　for　referring　to　such　things　in　view　of　all　the　wealth　of　the　mountains　about　him。
  〃What　kind　of　game　have　you　got？〃　asked　Mr。　Grant；　twisting　his　head　and　looking　at　Oliver　from　under　the　straight　line　of　cotton…wool。
  Oliver　turned　his　head　toward　the　speaker。　〃Oh；　wild　geese；　and　canvas…back　ducks　and〃
  〃And　negroes？〃　There　was　a　harsh　note　in　Silas's　voice　which　sounded　like　a　saw　when　it　clogs　in　a　knot；　but　Oliver　did　not　notice　it。　He　was　too　happy　to　notice　anything　but　the　girl　beside　him。
  〃Oh；　yes；　plenty　of　them；〃　and　he　threw　back　his　head；　laughing　this　time　until　every　tooth　flashed　white。
  〃You　hunt　them；　too；　don't　you？　With　dogs；　most　of　the　time；　I　hear。〃　There　was　no　mistaking　the　bitterness　in　his　voice　now。
  The　boy's　face　sobered　in　an　instant。　He　felt　as　if　someone　had　shot　at　him　from　behind　a　tree。
  〃Not　that　I　ever　saw；　sir；〃　he　answered；　quickly；　straightening　himself；　a　peculiar　light　in　his　eyes。　〃We　love　ours。〃
  〃Love　'em？　Well；　you　don't　treat　'em　as　if　you　loved　'em。〃
  Margaret　saw　the　cloud　on　Oliver's　face　and　made　a　step　toward　her　father。
  〃Mr。　Horn　lives　in　the　city；　father；　and　never　sees　such　things。〃
  〃Well；　if　he　does　he　knows　all　about　it。　You　own　negroes；　don't　you？〃　The　voice　was　louder；　the　manner　a　trifle　more　insistent。　Oliver　could　hardly　keep　his　temper。　Only　Margaret's　anxious　face　held　him　in　check。
  〃No；　not　now；　sirmy　father　freed　all　of　his。〃　The　tones　were　thin　and　cold。　Margaret　had　never　heard　any　such　sound　before　from　those　laughing　lips。
  Silas　Grant　was　leaning　forward　out　of　his　chair。　The　iron　jaw　was　doing　the　talking　now。
  〃Where　are　these　negroes？〃　he　persisted。
  〃Two　of　them　are　living　with　us；　sir。　They　are　in　my　father's　house　now。〃
  〃Rather　shiftless　kind　of　help；　I　guess。　You've　got　to　watch　'em　all　the　time；　I　hear。　Steal　everything　　they　get　their　hands　on；　don't　they？〃　This　was　said　with　a　dry；　hard　laugh　that　was　meant　to　be　conciliatoryas　if　he　expected　Oliver　to　agree　with　him　now　that　he　had　had　his　say。
  Oliver　turned　quickly　toward　his　host's　chair。　For　a　moment　he　was　so　stun