But Susan had only a glance for him and no ear at all for the chaffing between him and the actor-manager.

She was gazing at the Indiana shore, at a tiny village snuggled among trees and ripened fields close to the water's edge.

She knew it was Brooksburg.

She remembered the long covered bridge which they had crossed--Spenser and she, on the horse.

To the north of the town, on a knoll, stood a large red brick house trimmed with white veranda and balconies--far and away the most pretentious house in the landscape.