will pass high."

"Of course," said Penhallow.

Then the talk drifted away to the mills, the village and the farm work.
When after dinner Rivers declined to smoke with the Squire, Ann walked
with the clergyman down the avenue and said presently, "Dine with us on
Monday, Mark, and as often as possible. My husband is really worrying
about John."

"And you, dear lady?"

"I--oh, of course, I miss them greatly; but Leila needs the contact with
the social life she now has in the weekly holiday at Baltimore; and as
for John, did it never occur to you that he ought to be among men of his
age--and social position--and women too, who will not, I fancy, count for
much in the 'West Point education.'

"Yes--yes, what you say is true of course, but ah! I dread for him the
temptations of another life than this."

"Would you keep him here longer, if you could?" she asked.

"No. What would life be worth or how could character be developed without
temptation? That is one of my puzzles about the world to come, a world
where there would be no 'yes and no' would hardly be worth while."

"And quite beyond me," cried Ann, laughing. "We have done our best for
them. Let us pray that they will not forget. I have no fear for Leila. I
do not know about John. I must go home. Come often. Good-night. I suppose