Shortly afterward they were approaching the Cresswell Mansion, when the
young man reined in the horse.
"If you wouldn't mind," he suggested, "I could introduce my sister to
you."
"I should be delighted," answered Miss Taylor, readily.
When they rolled up to the homestead under its famous oaks the hour was
past one. The house was a white oblong building of two stories. In front
was the high pillared porch, semi-circular, extending to the roof with a
balcony in the second story. On the right was a broad verandah looking
toward a wide lawn, with the main road and the red swamp in the
distance.
The butler met them, all obeisance.
"Ask Miss Helen to come down," said Mr. Cresswell.
Sam glanced at him.
"Miss Helen will be dreadful sorry, but she and the Colonel have just
gone to town--I believe her Aunty ain't well."
Mr. Cresswell looked annoyed.
"Well, well! that's too bad," he said. "But at any rate, have a seat a
moment out here on the verandah, Miss Taylor. And, Sam, can't you find
us a sandwich and something cool? I could not be so inhospitable as to
send you away hungry at this time of day."
Miss Taylor sat down in a comfortable low chair facing the refreshing
breeze, and feasted her eyes on the scene. Oh, this was life: a smooth
green lawn, and beds of flowers, a vista of brown fields, and the dark
line of wood beyond.
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