On the morning of her uncle's departure from Midbranch, Roberta came out on the porch, and took her seat in a large wooden arm-chair, putting down her key basket on the floor beside her.

The day was bright and sunny, and the shadows of two or three turkey buzzards, who were circling in the air, moved over the field in front of the house.

In this field also moved, not so fast, nor so gracefully as the shadows, two ploughs, one near by, and the other at quite a distance.

The woods which shut out a great part of the horizon showed many a bit of color, but the scene, although bright enough in some of its tones, was not a cheering one to Roberta; and she needed cheering.
Had it not been for the delay of her father in making his winter visit to New York, she would now be in that city, but if things had gone on as she expected they would, she would have been perfectly satisfied to remain several weeks longer at Midbranch.

Junius Keswick, who had not visited the house for a long time, had come to them again; and, now that the subject of love and marriage had been set aside, it was charming to have him there as a friend.