Brainerd was the last of all the guests to leave. He was waiting for Daphne, who had disappeared. Caught by the spell of the slow-descending evening he stood with his host and hostess in silence, without impatience, without thought of fatigue.
Then out of the dusk came Daphne, breaking the spell.
"Where in the world have you been?" demanded Brainerd, a little impatiently. "You have kept us all waiting."
"I am sorry for that," she replied, sidling up to the Colonel and taking his hand.
"Where were you?"
"Talking to my friends," she replied vaguely.
"Well, we must get back."
"Cannot I have José drive you over?" asked the Colonel.
"No, no!" disclaimed Brainerd. "The walk will do us good."
"The light on the mountains must be very fine," suggested the Colonel. "What say, mama, don't you think it would be pleasant to walk a short distance with our friends?"
"Pleasant and salutary," laughed Allie. "I feel like a stuffed turkey after these barbecues. Everything is so good. Wait until I get my shawl."
The Colonel and Daphne sauntered on ahead, while Brainerd, seating himself on the steps, lighted a pipe and waited for Mrs. Peyton.
"Had a pleasant day, Puss?" asked the Colonel, throwing one arm around the child's shoulders.
"Simply lovely, fairy godpapa," she replied, snuggling closer to him.
"That's good, that's good," said he, raising his fine old face to peer up through the interlocking branches. They were now at the edge of the Grove under a great oak whose branches, immense as the trunks of ordinary sized trees, writhed and twisted fantastically, now reaching upward toward the low hollow dome of green, now touching the ground in their wide-flung spread. The main trunk was nearly six feet in diameter but divided at so low a height that three unobtrusive cleats nailed to its side sufficed to admit even a very small climber to the great anacondalike limbs.
"Dolman's House," said Daphne. "Let's stop a minute."
