In the afternoon Captain Asher showed his visitor his little farm, and took him out fishing.  During these recreations he refrained, as far as possible, from asking questions, for he did not wish the young man to suppose that for any reason he had been sent there to undergo an examination.  But in the evening he could not help talking about the college, not in reference to the work and life of the students, a subject that did not interest him, but in regard to the work and the prospects of the faculty.

“What does your president teach?” he asked.  “I believe all presidents have charge of some branch or other.”

“Oh, yes,” said Lancaster, “our president is Professor of Mental and Moral Philosophy.”

“I thought it would be something of the kind,” said the captain to himself.  “Even the head Professor of Mathematical Theories would never get to the top of the heap.  He is not useful enough for that.”

After he had gone to bed that night Captain Asher found himself laughing about the events of the day.  He could not help it when he remembered how his mind had been almost constantly occupied with a consideration of his old shipmate’s son with reference to his brother’s daughter.  And when he remembered that neither of these two young people had ever seen or heard of the other, it is not surprising that he laughed a little.

“It’s none of my business, anyway,” thought the captain, “and I might as well stop bothering my head about it.  I suppose I might as well tell him about Olive, for it is nothing I need keep secret.  But first I’ll see how long he is going to stay.  It’s none of his business, anyway, whether I have a niece staying with me or not.”

CHAPTER V

Olive pays Toll.

It is needless to say that Olive was charmed with Broadstone; with its mistress; with the two little girls; with the woods; the river; the mountains; and even the sky; which seemed different from that same sky when viewed from the tollhouse.  She was charmed also with the rest of the household, which was different from anything of that kind that she had known, being composed entirely, with the exception of some servants, of women and little girls.  Olive, accustomed all her life to men, men, men, grew rapturous over this Amazonian paradise.

“Don’t be too enthusiastic,” said Mrs. Easterfield; “for a while you may like fresh butter without salt, but the longing for the condiment will be sure to come.”

There was Mrs. Blynn, the widow of a clergyman, with dark-brown eyes and white hair, who was always in a good humor, who acted as the general manager of the household, and also as particular friend to any one in the house who needed her services in that way.  Then there was Miss Raleigh, who was supposed to be Mrs. Easterfield’s secretary.  She was a slender spinster of forty or more, with sad eyes and very fine teeth.  She had dyspeptic proclivities, and never differed with anybody except in regard to