The air was fresh and crisp, and little smoke-blue mists curled through the valleys and floated off from the hills.

Sometimes the road went through woods where maples were beginning to hang out scarlet banners; sometimes it crossed rivers on bridges that made Anne's flesh cringe with the old, half-delightful fear; sometimes it wound along a harbor shore and passed by a little cluster of weather-gray fishing huts; again it mounted to hills whence a far sweep of curving upland or misty-blue sky could be seen; but wherever it went there was much of interest to discuss.

It was almost noon when they reached town and found their way to "Beechwood." It was quite a fine old mansion, set back from the street in a seclusion of green elms and branching beeches.

Miss Barry met them at the door with a twinkle in her sharp black eyes.
"So you've come to see me at last, you Anne-girl," she said.

"Mercy, child, how you have grown! You're taller than I am, I declare.