At the Time Appointed

Of Kate Underwood Darrell knew nothing, except as her father or aunt

spoke of her, for he had no recollection of her and she had left home

early in his illness to return to an eastern college, from which she

would graduate the following year.

With more animation than he had yet shown since his illness, Darrell

returned to the veranda. He was flushed and trembling slightly from the

unusual exertion, and Dr. Bradley, dropping down beside him, from force

of habit laid his fingers on Darrell's wrist, but the latter shook them

off playfully.

"No more of that!" he exclaimed, adding, "Doctor, I challenge you for a

race two weeks from to-day. What do you say, do you take me up?"

"Two weeks from to-day!" repeated the doctor, with an incredulous smile,

at the same time scrutinizing Darrell's form. "Well, yes. When you are

in ordinary health I don't think I would care to do much business with

you along that line, but two weeks from to-day is a safe proposition, I

guess. What do you want to make it, a hundred yards?" he inquired, with

a laughing glance at Mr. Underwood.

"One hundred yards," replied Darrell, following the direction of the

doctor's glance. "Do you want to name the winner, Mr. Underwood?"

"I'll back you, my boy," said the elder man, quietly, his shrewd face

growing a trifle shrewder.

"What!" exclaimed Dr. Bradley, rising hastily; "I guess it's about time I was going, if that's your estimate of my

athletic prowess," and, shaking hands with Darrell, he started down the

driveway.

"I'll put you up at about ten to one," Mr. Underwood called after the

retreating figure, but a deprecatory wave of his hand over his shoulder

was the doctor's only reply.

"Oh," exclaimed Darrell, looking about him, "this is glorious! This is

one of the days that make a fellow feel that life is worth living!"

Even as he spoke there came to his mind the thought of what life meant

to him, and the smile died from his lips and the light from his eyes.

For a moment nothing was said, then, with the approaching sound of

rhythmic hoof-beats, Mr. Underwood rose, deliberately emptying the ashes

from his pipe as a fine pair of black horses attached to a light

carriage appeared around the house from the direction of the stables.

"You will be back for lunch, David?" Mrs. Dean inquired.

"Yes, and I'll bring Jack with me," was his reply, as he seated himself

beside the driver, and the horses started at a brisk trot down the

driveway.