“Suppose we accept the invitation,” said Mr. Travilla, leading the way.

The two old ladies preferred a seat under a wide-spreading tree on the lawn; but the others accompanied him in a tour of the deserted mansion already falling rapidly to decay.

They climbed the creaking stairs, passed along the silent corridors, looked into the empty rooms, and out of the broken windows upon the flower gardens, once trim and gay, now choked with rubbish, and overgrown with weeds, and sighed over the desolations of war.

Some of the lower rooms were still in a pretty good state of preservation, and in one of these the servants were directed to build a fire and prepare tea and coffee.

Plenty of dry branches strewed the ground in a bit of woods but a few rods distant.  Some of these were quickly gathered and a brightly blazing fire presently crackled upon the hearth and roared up the wide chimney.

Leaving the house, which in its loneliness and dilapidation inspired only feelings of sadness and gloom, our party wandered over the grounds, still beautiful even in their forlornly neglected state.

The domain was extensive, and the older boys having taken an opposite direction from their parents, were presently out of their sight and hearing, the house being directly between.  Uncle Joe, however, was with the lads, so no anxiety was felt for their safety.

Wandering on, they came to a stream of limpid water flowing between high grassy banks, and spanned by a little rustic bridge.

“Let’s cross over,” said Herbert, “that’s such a pretty bridge, and it looks lovely on the other side.”

“No, no, ’tain’t safe, boys, don’t you go for to try it,” exclaimed Uncle Joe.

“Pooh! what do you know about it?” returned Herbert, who always had great confidence in his own opinion.  “If it won’t bear us all at once, it certainly will one at a time.  What do you say, Ed?”

“I think Uncle Joe can judge better whether it’s safe than little boys like us.”

“Don’t you believe it:  his eyes are getting old and he can’t see half so well as you or I.”

“I kin see dat some ob de planks is gone, Marse Herbert; an’ de ole timbahs looks shaky.”

“Shaky! nonsense! they’ll not shake under my weight, and I’m going to cross.”

“Now, Herbie, don’t you do it,” said his brother.  “You know mamma wouldn’t allow it if she was here.”

“’Twon’t be disobedience though; as she isn’t here, and never has forbidden me to go on that bridge,” persisted Herbert.

“Mamma and papa say that truly obedient children don’t do what they know their parents would forbid if they were present,” said Eddie.

“I say nobody but a coward would be afraid to venture on that bridge,” said Herbert, ignoring Eddie’s last remark.  “Suppose it should break and let you fall! the worst would be a ducking.”

“De watah’s deep, Marse Herbert, and you might git drownded!” said Uncle Joe.  “Or maybe some ob de timbahs fall on you an’ break yo’ leg or yo’ back.”