on pleasant afternoons the president and his little granddaughter were frequently to be seen walking down street together. aunt charlotte found it very little trouble in these days to get her brother to take his constitutional. the sight of caro looking like an autumn sprite in her red jacket, was enough.

“come grandpa, it is time for our walk,” she would announce, and dr. barrows would obediently lay down his pen or his book, and follow. and the sight of her happy, rosy face, as she frisked about in the fallen leaves, the sound of her merry voice as she asked innumerable questions, made him forget his anxiety over seminary affairs, and before he knew it he was looking up at the blue sky, breathing deeply the delicious air, with something of the same joyousness.

[22]“grandpa, don’t you think that is a beautiful house?”

they were walking out grayson avenue, and as caro spoke she pointed to a large old-fashioned mansion of gray stone, with a row of stately pillars across its front. it stood in the midst of extensive grounds where were many fine trees and shrubs, in the background hot-houses were to be seen, and nearer the street a fountain was sending up a silvery shower.

a cloud crossed the president’s face as he replied; “yes, dear, it is a beautiful place. that is where trolley once lived.”

“are there any children there?” she asked.

“no; miss grayson and her invalid brother live there alone.”

it was a very large house for just two persons, caro thought. “did trolley belong to the sick brother?” she asked.

“i don’t know; perhaps so.”

“don’t you suppose he was sorry?”

“very likely, but it couldn’t be helped you know, trolley was determined to live with us.”

“i am glad he did,” said caro.

she couldn’t ask any more questions for professor rice joined them and began to talk[23] to her grandfather, but she could think, and it presently occurred to her that this must be the place that adjoined marjorie’s orchard. she walked along very soberly, her mind full of the sick man no one ever saw, and the gate that was never opened.

when she and marjorie went over on the avenue to mail a letter not long after this, caro asked, “did you know that your gate opened into the garden of the grayson house?”

“why yes, of course. look caro! there’s miss elizabeth now!”

they were almost at the gate, and as marjorie spoke a tall, handsome woman crossed the sidewalk and entered the carriage that was waiting for her.

“doesn’t she look cross!” marjorie exclaimed.

but caro was too much impressed with her elegance to consider her expression, which was not cross, by the way, only extremely sad.

“let’s play dressing up,” she proposed, “and i bid to be miss grayson.”

marjorie was willing and chose to be mrs. rice the professor’s wife who had at present the distinction of being the seminary bride. as[24] a coachman was needed, little tom turner who sat on the curbstone longing for an invitation, was offered the position, and perched on a piano stool in front of a steamer chair he drove his spirited horses—two rocking chairs—with great skill.

miss grayson in an old silk gown of aunt charlotte’s swept into her carriage with astonishing dignity any number of times that morning, followed by mrs. rice in a flowered kimono.

when they grew tired of this play they went to the orchard, and there caro decided that it would be quite easy to climb the wall if you didn’t mind the currant bushes.

“you’d better not,” cried marjorie, shocked at such audacity, but when she was assured that it was just lovely up there, she could not resist and she and tom followed.

it was an old-fashioned garden into which the children looked, already rather brown and bare except for a few chrysanthemums and asters, but still with a beauty of its own quite different from the smooth elegance of the grounds in front of the house.

[25]they sat there full of delight over their adventure, craning their necks to see as far as possible into this unknown land, when there came the sound of footsteps on the fallen leaves.

marjorie was down in an instant, and tom after her, but caro waited till an invalid’s chair appeared, rolled by a tall colored man. in the midst of the rugs and shawls a handsome, boyish face was to be seen, and caro who had expected—she didn’t know what—was so surprised that instead of slipping down after marjorie as she had intended she sat perfectly still.

“stop just here thompson, i must have that bit of view through the trees,” said the occupant of the chair, and caro saw he had a camera.

she watched with interest till the right position was found and the picture taken.

“now turn me around, so i can get that white birch against the stone wall.”

close to the birch sat caro. “wait a minute and i’ll get down,” she called, remembering how provoked brother arthur was when she got in his way.

“stay just where you are,” a decided voice[26] commanded, and caro staid, feeling not unlike the convicts at the prison who had to have their pictures taken whether they liked it or not.

it was over in a second and then down she scrambled and ran after the other children.

“caro! what made you so long? what did you see?” marjorie cried.

“nothing but two men; but marjorie they took my picture!”

“oh caro, maybe they are going to arrest you!”

“i don’t believe they are,” caro answered gravely, “for do you know marjorie he—the sick man i mean—is very nice looking.”

as they walked back to the house she added, “just think how dreadful it must be not to be able to walk.”