his natural dignity of speech and his retentive memory, which supplied him on occasions with happy passages from Shakespeare or Milton, he had acquired a facility in this on which he plumed himself; but he was ambitious, wishing in everything that he undertook to excel on each new occasion his past accomplishments. Therefore he read widely, made notes, and memorized, devoting at least one hour every evening to this employment. He liked to have the library to himself, that he might walk up and down repeating aloud what he had learned, and accordingly Mrs. Halket had submitted to withdrawing after prayers. But this evening Floyd said, before she could leave the room,—
"Grandfather, when are you and Grandmother going to open the Ridgewood house?"
"Oh, Floyd," Mrs. Halket cried, before her husband had time to answer, "I don't want to go to Ridgewood this year; I want to stay right at home and be near you. I can't bear to think of leaving you all forlorn at New Rome, with no home to go to on Sundays—"
"There," said Floyd to his grandfather, "I suspected that was what would come next when she insisted on staying here till after I had started in to work. It's perfectly senseless, when you own a whole Canadian lake, not to use it; and you know, Grandmother, you'd rather be there than here; you hate the summer here. And I'll make a bargain with you; I'll let you come out to-morrow and fix up my room if you and Grandfather will promise to start for Ridgewood next Monday."
"Good enough," said Colonel Halket; "Throw yourself entirely on your own resources; burn your bridges behind you; that's right. I'm ready for Ridgewood whenever your grandmother is; what do you say, Rebecca?"
"Floyd,"—she addressed her grandson entreatingly,—"do say you want me to stay. I don't care about going to Ridgewood now—truly, I don't."
