Captain Asher had seen the carriage stop, and knew that Mrs. Easterfield was talking to Olive, but he did not think himself called upon to intrude upon them.  But now it was necessary for him to go to the tollhouse.  Two men in a buggy with a broken spring and a coffee bag laid over the loins of an imperfectly set-up horse had been waiting for nearly a minute behind Mrs. Easterfield’s carriage, desiring to pay their toll and pass through.  So the captain went out of the garden-gate, collected the toll from the two men, and directed them to go round the carriage and pass on in peace, which they did.

Then Mrs. Easterfield rose from her stool, and approached the tollhouse door, and, as a matter of course, the captain was obliged to step forward and meet her.  Olive introduced him to the lady, who shook hands with him very cordially.

“I have found the daughter of an old friend,” said she, and then they all went into the tollhouse again, where the two ladies reseated themselves, and after some explanatory remarks Mrs. Easterfield said: 

“Now, Captain Asher, I must not stay here blocking up your toll-gate all the morning, but I want to ask of you a very great favor.  I want you to let your niece come and make me a visit.  I want a good visit—­at least ten days.  You must remember that her father and I, and her mother, too, were very good friends.  Now there are so many things I want to talk over with Miss Olive, and I am sure you will let me have her just for ten short days.  There are no guests at Broadstone yet, and I want her.  You do not know how much I want her.”

Captain Asher stood up tall and strong, his broad shoulders resting against the frame of the open doorway.  It was a positive delight to him to stand thus and look at such a beautiful woman.  So far as he could see, there was nothing about her with which to find fault.  If she had been a ship he would have said that her lines were perfect, spars and rigging just as he would have them.  In addition to her other perfections, she was large enough.  The captain considered himself an excellent judge of female beauty, and he had noticed that a great many fine women were too small.  With Olive’s personal appearance he was perfectly satisfied, although she was slight, but she was young, and would probably expand.  If he had had a daughter he would have liked her to resemble Mrs. Easterfield, but that feeling did not militate in the least against Olive.  In his mind it was not necessary for a niece to be quite as large as a daughter ought to be.

“But what does Olive say about it?” he asked.

“I have not been asked yet,” replied Olive, “but it seems to me that I—­”

“Would like to do it,” interrupted Mrs. Easterfield.  “Now, isn’t that so, dear Olive?”

The girl looked at the captain.  “It depends upon what you say about it, Uncle John.”

The captain slightly knitted his brows.  “If it were for one night, or perhaps a couple of days,” he said, “it would be different.  But what am I to do without Olive for nearly two weeks?  I am just beginning to learn what a poor place my house would be without her.”