"This is most exhilarating. I have been watching that long twilight in the west. How clear and bright it is there! This is a purely Northern sky," exclaimed Lord Canning.
A week later they received word from Mr. Stillwater that he was coming for the remainder of the season. Lord Stafford was present when the letter arrived, and notified his nephew in this wise.
"Pa's coming!" he exclaimed, bursting into Lord Canning's room.
"Pa's coming!" he repeated, in a feminine falsetto.
"What do you mean, Uncle Nelson?" interrogated Lord Canning, in an irritated voice.
"I'm repeating Miss Stillwater's words, 'Pa's coming!'"
"Oh!" Lord Canning gazed out of his window at the lake, thinking. "So papa is coming. Well, all the better!"
"He arrives to-morrow, the fifteenth. They're arranging a deer-hunt for the day after. The guides are jubilant that the real business of the season is to commence. They've been idling so long. Haven't you opened your letters yet, Thurston?" noticing the pile of letters on the table.
"I have read my mother's--here it is. She is well, thank God!"
"And you're going off without opening the rest of your mail--part of it arrived two days ago. There might be something important."
"I have an appointment with Miss Stillwater. That is the most important thing at present."
"Well, if you must know, Uncle Nelson, I am invited to help her catch pollywogs down here by the lake. She does not like to be kept waiting. I'm in a great hurry, Uncle Nelson. Ha, ha, ha, ha!" He rushed out of the room.
Lord Stafford sank into a chair, holding his sister's letter.
"Well, I don't know what to make of Thurston. It really looks as though that little thing has bewitched him--that little blonde thing--it's too absurd!--ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!--she's clever, though!--she runs the entire tribe of them--mother, father and grandmother. She can turn Thurston round her little finger--em--en! Perhaps I ought to devise some means of getting him away from here. I promised his mother to look after him. But then the hunting is just about to commence, and I've been looking forward to it--so long--besides, what would Mrs. Bunker say?"
Catching pollywogs was one of Indiana's favorite recreations. She kept them in bottles for the pleasure of seeing them turn into frogs.