The Fortunes of Springfield by Eleanor Farnes Page A

weeks. I have my mind full of pictures of it as it used to be. My mother’s dinner parties here, the house full of people’s talk and laughter and coming and going. I don’t like to see it shabby. I want once more to fill it with life.”
    Of course, thought Caroline, he has thousands of memories. And the people round about must share some of them. Mrs. Close, for instance, and Patricia. They can remember this house as it used to be. They are the kind of people who came to dinner here. They are the people who will come again. Don’t imagine, Caroline, because you are having a hand in its improvement, that you will enjoy it in that way when it is finished. The people in that elegant dining-room, sitting under the many lights in the chandelier, will be Patricia and Duncan Westcott, Oriel and Jennifer, Mrs. Close and General McFede rn , and such neighbours as those. If you, my dear Caroline, are here at all, you will most probably be in the kitchen with Mrs. Davis to help you. It’s as well to remember that, and not to be carried away because Mr. Springfield takes you into his confidence.

 
    CHAPTER FIVE
    “HULLO”, said Duncan Wescott. “What are you doing on my fields?”
    Caroline looked up, startled.
    “I didn’t know I was on your fields,” she said. “I thought this was still Springfield.”
    Duncan came through the wide wooden gate and joined her. It was a brilliant and sunny spring afternoon, and her walk had whipped unusual colour into Caroline’s cheeks.
    “Were you coming to see me?” he asked.
    “No. What makes you think so?”
    “The fact that this direction leads to nowhere but my house. If you weren’t coming to see me, where were you going?”
    “Nowhere. I’m just walking. Wandering, I should say; and exploring. And thoroughly enjoying being by myself.”
    “Oh. Oh, I say, that is most unkind.”
    Caroline hastened to apologize, laughing as she did so. “I didn’t mean that, Mr. Wescott, and I’m sure you knew I didn’t. This is the first afternoon that I haven’t had to dash back to get the children’s tea since I’ve been at Springfield. Mrs. Davis has them all to tea with her little boy this afternoon, so I have some beautiful freedom.”
    “Then I insist on your coming back to my house for tea.”
    Caroline looked doubtful.
    “Please come,” said Duncan Wescott. “I should like to show you my farm and my house. I’m quite alone there — except for my housekeeper, Mrs. Drew; and she will be delighted if I tak e somebody in for tea. She grumbles because I don’t provide her with enough visitors.”
    “I know Mrs. Drew very well,” smiled Caroline. “She used to come in to see Annie and Hilda when she came into town for shopping. But even your nice Mrs. Drew would like a little notice, I daresay.”
    “Nonsense. Do come, Caroline.”
    “All right,” she capitulated suddenly, and walked beside him across the short grass to a roadway, and then along it to the house.
    “You see,” he said, “that it is very different from Springfield.”
    “Yes, much older, but how beautiful.”
    “Yes, I like it. It’s Tudor, of course. Wonderful timbering. You’re interested in houses, aren’t you? You must see over mine.”
    Mrs. Drew welcomed Caroline with pleasure, but scolded Duncan.
    “Weeks go by without the sight of a visitor, and then, when you do bring a young lady, you don’t give me half an hour’s notice, so that I can get a batch of fresh scones in the oven.”
    “You can have your half-hour, Mrs. Drew, because I’m going to take Miss Hearst on a conducted tour of the house and farm. In fact, you can have three-quarters. It will take us all that time.”
    Caroline was charmed by the Tudor house, on which it was quite obvious that Duncan Wescott had spent a great deal of time and money. While all the best old features had been p reserved, modern plumbing had been added, the kitchen had been brought up to date for Mrs. Drew, and electric light was obtained from a