"Ah!" exclaimed the other. "I want to make him a present of the 'Herald,'
if he'll take it." He fumed to Meredith, who had come to the gate. "Tom,
where is he?"

Meredith put his hand on his friend's shoulder, and answered: "I don't
know. God bless you, old fellow!"

"The truth is," said the judge, as they entered the gate, "that when you
drove up, young Fisbee ran into the house. Minnie--" He turned, but his
daughter had disappeared; however, she came to the door, a moment later,
and shook her head mysteriously at her father.

"Not in the house," she said.

Mr. Fisbee came around the corner of the porch and went toward Harkless.
"Fisbee," cried the latter, "where is your nephew?"

The old man took his hand in both his own, and looked him between the
eyes, and thus stood, while there was a long pause, the others watching
them.

"You must not say that I told you," he said at last. "Go into the garden."

But when Harkless's step crunched the garden path there was no one there.
Asters were blooming in beds between the green rose-bushes, and their
many-fingered hands were flung open in wide surprise that he should expect
to find young Fisbee there. It was just before sunset. Birds were
gossiping in the sycamores on the bank. At the foot of the garden, near
the creek, there were some tall hydrangea bushes, flower-laden, and,
beyond them, one broad shaft of the sun smote the creek bends for a mile