Ann rose to her feet hastily. "Here comes Horace! Let's talk over the fair--and now, Dear, I must kiss away those naughty lines between your eyes this moment. I don't want my boy to feel sad."
She kissed him tenderly, and turned to meet her brother.
"I was tired of staying in there alone," said Horace. "Hello, Everett! It was nice of you, old chap, to ask me along to Dryden. That's my one failing in the fall--I always go. Let me see--you didn't go last year, did you, Everett?"
"No; but I knew that Ann wanted to go this year, and I thought a party would be pleasant. I asked Katherine Vandecar; but her aunt is such an invalid that Katherine can scarcely ever leave her."
"Mrs. Vandecar is ill," said Ann. "I called there yesterday, and she is the frailest looking woman I ever saw."
"She's never got over the loss of her children," rejoined Everett. "It's hard on Vandecar, too, to have her ill. He looks ten years older than he is."
"Yes; but their little Mildred is such a comfort to them both!" interjected Ann. "They watch the child like hawks. I suppose it's only natural after their awful experience. Isn't it strange that two children could disappear from the face of the earth and not a word be heard from them in all these years?"
"They're probably dead," replied Horace gently, and silence fell upon them.