Works of

ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON

=The Little Colonel Series=

(_Trade Mark, Reg. U. S. Pat. Of. _)

Each one vol. , large 12mo, cloth, illustrated

 The Little Colonel Stories $1. 50 (Containing in one volume the three stories, "The Little Colonel, " "The Giant Scissors, " and "Two Little Knights of Kentucky. ") The Little Colonel's House Party 1. 50 The Little Colonel's Holidays 1. 50 The Little Colonel's Hero 1. 50 The Little Colonel at Boarding-School 1. 50 The Little Colonel in Arizona 1. 50 The Little Colonel's Christmas Vacation 1. 50 The Little Colonel: Maid of Honor 1. 50 The Little Colonel's Knight Comes Riding 1. 50 The above 9 vols. , boxed 13. 50 _In Preparation_--A New Little Colonel Book 1. 50

 * * * * *

 The Little Colonel Good Times Book 1. 50

=Illustrated Holiday Editions=

Each one vol. , small quarto, cloth, illustrated, and printed in colour

 The Little Colonel $1. 25 The Giant Scissors 1. 25 Two Little Knights of Kentucky 1. 25 Big Brother 1. 25

=Cosy Corner Series=

Each one vol. , thin 12mo, cloth, illustrated

 The Little Colonel $. 50 The Giant Scissors . 50 Two Little Knights of Kentucky . 50 Big Brother . 50 Ole Mammy's Torment . 50 The Story of Dago . 50 Cicely . 50 Aunt 'Liza's Hero . 50 The Quilt that Jack Built . 50 Flip's "Islands of Providence" . 50 Mildred's Inheritance . 50

=Other Books=

 Joel: A Boy of Galilee $1. 50 In the Desert of Waiting . 50 The Three Weavers . 50 Keeping Tryst . 50 The Legend of the Bleeding Heart . 50 Asa Holmes 1. 00 Songs Ysame (Poems, with Albion Fellows Bacon) 1. 00

 * * * * *

 =L. C. PAGE & COMPANY= =200 Summer Street Boston, Mass. =

 [Illustration: "LLOYD . .. TOOK HER PLACE BESIDE THE HARP" (_See page 68_)]

The Little Colonel:

Maid of Honor

By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON

Author of "The Little Colonel Series, " "Big Brother, " "Ole Mammy'sTorment, " "Joel: A Boy of Galilee, " "Asa Holmes, " etc. 

Illustrated by ETHELDRED B. BARRY

[Illustration]

 BOSTON * L. C. PAGE & COMPANY * PUBLISHERS

 _Copyright, 1906_ BY L. C. PAGE & COMPANY (INCORPORATED)

 * * * * *

_Entered at Stationers' Hall, London_

 * * * * *

_All rights reserved_

 First Impression, October, 1906 Third Impression, August, 1907 Fourth Impression, April, 1908 Fifth Impression, March, 1909 Sixth Impression, February, 1910

CONTENTS

 CHAPTER PAGE

 I. AT WARWICK HALL 1 II. AT WARE'S WIGWAM 19 III. IN BEAUTY'S QUEST 31 IV. MARY'S "PROMISED LAND" 43 V. AT "THE LOCUSTS" 58 VI. THE FOX AND THE STORK 70 VII. THE COMING OF THE BRIDE 88 VIII. AT THE BEECHES 113 IX. "SOMETHING BLUE" 136 X. "A COON HUNT" 158 XI. THE FOUR-LEAVED CLOVER 178 XII. THE WEDDING 198 XIII. DREAMS AND WARNINGS 216 XIV. A SECOND MAID OF HONOR 241 XV. THE END OF THE HOUSE-PARTY 258 XVI. THE GOLDEN LEAF OF HONOR 275

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

 PAGE

 "LLOYD . .. TOOK HER PLACE BESIDE THE HARP" (_See page 68_) _Frontispiece_

 "IT NEEDED NO SECOND GLANCE TO TELL HIM WHO SHE WAS" 20

 "HE WAS LEANING FORWARD IN HIS CHAIR, TALKING TO JOYCE" 66

 "A TALL, ATHLETIC FIGURE IN OUTING FLANNELS" 84

 "A LONG-DRAWN 'O-O-OH' GREETED THE BEAUTIFUL TABLEAU" 132

 "'ALL YOU GIRLS STANDING WITH YOUR HANDS STUCK THROUGH THE BARS'" 163

 "'THEY STEPPED IN AND ROWED OFF DOWN THE SHINING WATERWAY'" 171

 "'ONE, TWO, THREE--_THROW_!'" 253

THE LITTLE COLONEL, MAID OF HONOR

CHAPTER I. 

AT WARWICK HALL

It was mid-afternoon by the old sun-dial that marked the hours inWarwick Hall garden; a sunny afternoon in May. The usual busy routine ofschool work was going on inside the great Hall, but no whisper of itdisturbed the quiet of the sleepy old garden. At intervals the faintclang of the call-bell, signalling a change of classes, floated throughthe open windows, but no buzz of recitations reached the hedge-hiddenpath where Betty Lewis sat writing. 

The whole picturesque place seemed as still as the palace of theSleeping Beauty. Even the peacocks on the terraced river-front stoodmotionless, their resplendent tails spread out in the sun; and althoughthe air was filled with the odor of wild plum blossoms, the breeze thatbore it through the arbor where Betty sat, absorbed in her work, was sogentle that it scarcely stirred the vines around her. 

With her elbows resting on the rustic table in front of her, and onefinger unconsciously twisting the lock of curly brown hair that strayedover her ear, she sat pushing her pencil rapidly across the pages of hernote-book. At times she stopped to tap impatiently on the table, whenthe word she wanted failed to come. Then she would sit looking throughhalf-closed eyes at the sun-dial, or let her dreamy gaze follow the lazywindings of the river, which, far below, took its slow way along betweenthe willows. 

As editor-in-chief of _The Spinster_, there was good reason why sheshould be excused from recitations now and then, to spend an afternoonin this retreat. This year's souvenir volume bade fair to be thebrightest and most creditable one ever issued by the school. The Englishprofessor not only openly said so, but was plainly so proud of Betty'sability that the lower classes regarded her with awe, and adored herfrom a distance, as a real live genius. 

Whether she was a genius or not, one thing is certain, she spent hoursof patient, painstaking work to make her writing measure up to thestandard she had set for it. It was work that she loved better thanplay, however, and to-day she sighed regretfully when the hunter's horn, blowing on the upper terrace, summoned the school to its outdoor sports. 

Instantly, in answer to the winding call, the whole place began toawaken. There was a tread of many feet on the great staircase, the outerdoors burst open, and a stream of rollicking girls poured out into theMay sunshine. 

Betty knew that in a few minutes the garden would be swarming with themas if a flock of chattering magpies had taken possession of it. With apreoccupied frown drawing her eyebrows together, she began gathering upher papers, preparatory to making her escape. She glanced down the longflight of marble steps leading to the river. There on the lowestterrace, a fringe of willow-trees trailed their sweeping branches in thewater. Around the largest of these trees ran a circular bench. Seated onthe far side of this, the huge trunk would shield her from view of theHall, and she decided to go down there to finish. 

It would never do to stop now, when the verses were spinning themselvesout so easily. None of the girls, except her four most intimate friends, would dare think of following her down there, and if she could slip awayfrom that audacious quartette, she would be safe for the rest of theafternoon. 

Peering through a hole in the hedge, she stood waiting for them to pass. A section of the botany class came first, swinging their baskets, andbound for a wooded hillside where wild flowers grew in profusion. Agroup on their way to the golf links came next, then half a dozen tennisplayers, and the newly organized basket-ball team. A moment more, andthe four she was waiting for tramped out abreast, arm in arm: LloydSherman, Gay Melville, Allison and Kitty Walton. Gay carried a kodak, and, from the remarks which floated over the hedge, it was evident theywere on their way to the orchard, to take a picture which wouldillustrate the nonsense rhyme Kitty was chanting at the top of hervoice. They all repeated it after her in a singsong chorus, the fourpairs of feet keeping time in a soldierly tread as they marched past thegarden:

 "Diddledy diddledy dumpty! Three old maids in a plum-tree! Half a crown to get them down, Diddledy diddledy dumpty!"

Only in this instance Betty knew they were to be young maids instead ofold ones, all in a row on the limb of a plum-tree in the orchard, theirlaughing faces thrust through the mass of snowy blossoms, as they waitedto be photographed. 

"Diddledy diddledy dumpty"--the ridiculous refrain grew fainter and diedaway as the girls passed on to the orchard, and Betty, smiling insympathy with their high spirits, ran down the stately marble steps tothe seat under the willow. It was so cool and shadowy down there that atfirst it was a temptation just to sit and listen to the lap of the wateragainst the shore, but the very length of the shadows warned her thatthe afternoon was passing, and after a few moments she fell to workagain with conscientious energy. 

So deeply did she become absorbed in her task, she did not look up whensome one came down the steps behind her. It was an adoring littlefreshman, who had caught the glimmer of her pink dress behind the tree. The special-delivery letter she carried was her excuse for following. She had been in a flutter of delight when Madame Chartley put it in herhand, asking her to find Elizabeth Lewis and give it to her. But nowthat she stood in the charmed presence, actually watching a poem in theprocess of construction, she paused, overwhelmed by the feeling that shewas rushing in "where angels feared to tread. "

Still, special-delivery letters are important things. Like time and tidethey wait for no man. Somebody might be dead or dying. So summoning allher courage, she cleared her throat. Then she gave a bashful littlecough. Betty looked up with an absent-minded stare. She had been so busypolishing a figure of speech to her satisfaction that she had forgottenwhere she was. For an instant the preoccupied little pucker between hereyebrows smote the timid freshman with dismay. She felt that she hadgained her idol's everlasting displeasure by intruding at such a time. But the next instant Betty's face cleared, and the brown eyes smiled inthe way that always made her friends wherever she went. 

"What is it, Dora?" she asked, kindly. Dora, who could only stammer anembarrassed reply, held out the letter. Then she stood with toes turnedin, and both hands fumbling nervously with her belt ribbon, while Bettybroke the seal. 

"I--I hope it isn't bad news, " she managed to say at last. "I--I'd hateto bring _you_ bad news. "

Betty looked up with a smile which brought Dora's heart into her throat. "Thank you, dear, " she answered, cordially. Then, as her eye travelledfarther down the page, she gave a cry of pleasure. 

"Oh, it is perfectly lovely news, Dora. It's the most beautiful surprisefor Lloyd's birthday that ever was. She's not to know till to-morrow. It's too good a secret to keep to myself, so I'll share it with you in aminute if you'll swear not to tell till to-morrow. "

Scarcely believing that she heard aright, Dora dropped down on thegrass, regardless of the fact that her roommate and two other girls werewaiting on the upper terrace for her to join them. They were going toMammy Easter's cabin to have their fortunes told. Feeling that this wasthe best fortune that had befallen her since her arrival at WarwickHall, and sure that Mammy Easter could foretell no greater honor thanshe was already enjoying, she signalled wildly for them to go on withouther. 

At first they did not understand her frantic gestures for them to go on, and stood beckoning, till she turned her back on them. Then they movedaway reluctantly and in great disgust at her abandoning them. When aglance over her shoulder assured her that she was rid of them, shesettled down with a blissful sigh. What greater honor could she havethan to be chosen as the confidante of the most brilliant pupil everenrolled at Warwick Hall? At least it was reported that that was thefaculty's opinion of her. Dora's roommate, Cornie Dean, had chosen LloydSherman as the shrine of her young affections, and it was from Corniethat Dora had learned the personal history of her literary idol. Sheknew that Lloyd Sherman's mother was Betty's godmother, and that the twogirls lived together as sisters in a beautiful old home in Kentuckycalled "The Locusts. " She had seen the photograph of the place hangingin Betty's room, and had heard scraps of information about the varioushouse-parties that had frolicked under the hospitable rooftree of thefine old mansion. She knew that they had travelled abroad, and had hadall sorts of delightful and unusual experiences. Now something else fineand unusual was about to happen, and Betty had offered to share asecret with her. A little shiver of pleasure passed over her at thethought. This was so delightfully intimate and confidential, almost liketaking one of those "little journeys to the homes of famous people. "

As Betty turned the page, Dora felt with another thrill that that wasthe hand which had written the poem on "Friendship, " which all the girlshad raved over. She herself knew it by heart, and she knew of at leastsix copies which, cut from the school magazine in which it had beenpublished, were stuck in the frames of as many mirrors. 

And that was the hand that had written the junior class song and theplay that the juniors gave on Valentine night. If reports were true thatwas also the hand which would write the valedictory next year, and whichwas now secretly at work upon a book which would some day place itsowner in the ranks with George Eliot and Thackeray. 

While she still gazed in a sort of fascination at the daintily manicuredpink-tipped fingers, Betty looked up with a radiant face. "Now I'll readit aloud, " she said. "It will take several readings to make me realizethat such a lovely time is actually in store for us. It's fromgodmother, " she explained. 

 "DEAR ELIZABETH:--As I cannot be sure just when this will reach Warwick Hall, I am sending the enclosed letter to Lloyd in your care. A little package for her birthday has already gone on to her by express, but as this bit of news will give her more pleasure than any gift, I want her to receive it also on her birthday. I have just completed arrangements for a second house-party, a duplicate of the one she had six years ago, when she was eleven. I have bidden to it the same guests which came to the first one, you and Eugenia Forbes and Joyce Ware, but Eugenia will come as a bride this time. I have persuaded her to have her wedding here at Locust, among her only kindred, instead of in New York, where she and her father have no home ties. It will be a rose wedding, the last of June. The bridegroom's brother, Phil Tremont, is to be best man, and Lloyd maid of honor. Stuart's best friend, a young doctor from Boston, is to be one of the attendants, and Rob another. You and Joyce are to be bridesmaids, just as you would have been had the wedding been in New York. 

 "Eugenia writes that she bought the material in Paris for your gowns. I enclose a sample, pale pink chiffon. Like a rose-leaf, is it not? Dressed in this dainty color, you will certainly carry out my idea of a rose wedding. Now do not let the thoughts of all this gaiety interfere with your studies. That is all I can tell you now, but you may spend your spare time until school is out planning things to make this the happiest of house-parties, and we will try to carry out all the plans that are practicable. Your devoted godmother, "ELIZABETH SHERMAN. "

Betty spread the sample of chiffon out over her knee, and stroked itadmiringly, before she slipped it back into the envelope with theletter. "The Princess is going to be so happy over this, " she exclaimed. "I'm sure she'll enjoy this second house-party at seventeen a hundredtimes more than she did the first one at eleven, and yet nobody couldhave had more fun than we did at that time. "

Dora's eager little face was eloquent with interest. Betty could nothave chosen a more attentive listener, and, inspired by her flatteringattention, she went on to recall some of the good times they had had atLocust, and in answer to Dora's timid questions explained why Lloyd wascalled The Little Colonel and the Princess Winsome and the Queen ofHearts and Hildegarde, and all the other titles her different friendshad showered upon her. 

"She must have been born with a gold spoon in her mouth, to be solucky, " sighed Dora, presently. "Life has been all roses for her, and nothorns whatever. "

"No, indeed!" answered Betty, quickly. "She had a dreadfuldisappointment last year. She was taken sick during the Christmasvacation, and had to stay out of school all last term. It nearly brokeher heart to drop behind her class, and she still grieves over it everyday. The doctors forbade her taking extra work to catch up with it. Thenso much is expected of an only child like her, who has had so manyadvantages, and it is no easy matter living up to all the expectationsof a family like the old Colonel's. "

Betty's back was turned to the terraces, but Dora, who faced them, happened to look up just then. "There she comes now, " she cried inalarm. "Hide the letter! Quick, or she'll see you!"

Glancing over her shoulder, Betty saw, not only the four girls she hadrun away from, but four others, running down the terraces, taking theflight of marble steps two at a time. Gay's shoe-strings were trippingher at every leap, and Lloyd's hair had shaken down around her shouldersin a shining mass in the wild race from the orchard. 

Lloyd reached the willow first. Dropping down on the bench, almostbreathless, she began fanning herself with her hat. 

"Oh!" she gasped. "Tell me quick, Betty! What is the mattah? Cornie Deansaid a messenger boy had just come out to the Hall on a bicycle with aspecial-delivery lettah from home. I was so suah something awful hadhappened I could hardly run, it frightened me so. "

"And we thought maybe something had happened at 'The Beeches, '"interrupted Allison, "and that mamma had written to you to break thenews to us. "

"Why, nothing at all is the matter, " answered Betty, calmly, darting aquick look at Dora to see if her face was betraying anything. "It wasjust a little note from godmother. She wanted me to attend to somethingfor her. "

"But why should she send it by special delivery if it isn't impawtant?"asked Lloyd, in an aggrieved tone. 

"It is important, " laughed Betty. "Very. "

"For goodness' sake, what is it, then?" demanded Lloyd. "Don't tease meby keeping me in suspense, Betty. You know that anything about mothah orThe Locusts must concern me, too, and that I am just as much interestedin the special lettah as you are. I should think it would be just asmuch my business as yoah's. "

"This does concern you, " admitted Betty, "and I'm dying to tell you, butgodmother doesn't want you to know until to-morrow. "

"To-morrow, " echoed Lloyd, much puzzled. Then her face lighted up. "Oh, it's about my birthday present. Tell me what it is _now_, Betty, " shewheedled. "I'd lots rathah know now than to wait. I could be enjoyingthe prospect of having whatevah it is all the rest of the day. "

Betty clapped her hands over her mouth, and rocked back and forth on thebench, her eyes shining mischievously. 

"_Do_ go away, " she begged. "_Don't_ ask me! It's so lovely that I canhardly keep from telling you, and I'm afraid if you stay here I'll nothave strength of character to resist. "

"Tell _us_, Betty, " suggested Kitty. "Lloyd will hide her ears while youconfide in us. "

"No, indeed!" laughed Betty. "The cat is half out of the bag when asecret is once shared, and I know you couldn't keep from telling Lloydmore than an hour or two. "

Just then Lloyd, leaning forward, pounced upon something at Betty'sfeet. It was the sample of pink chiffon that had dropped from theenvelope. 

"Sherlock Holmes the second!" she cried. "I've discovahed the secret. Ithas something to do with Eugenia's rose wedding, and mothah is going togive me my bridesmaid's dress as a birthday present. Own up now, Betty. Isn't that it?"

Betty darted a startled look at Dora. "Well, " she admitted, cautiously, "if it were a game of hunt the slipper, I'd say you were getting ratherwarm. That is _not_ the present your mother mentioned, although it _is_a sample of the bridesmaids' dresses. Eugenia got the material in Parisfor all of them. I'm at liberty to tell you that much. "

"Is that the wedding where you are to be maid of honor, Princess?" askedGrace Campman, one of the girls who had been posing in the plum-tree, and who had followed her down to hear the news. 

"Yes, " answered Lloyd. "Is it any wondah that I'm neahly wild withcuriosity?"

"Make her tell, " urged an excited chorus. "Just half a day beforehandwon't make any difference. "

"Let's all begin and beg her, " suggested Grace. 

Lloyd, long used to gaining her own way with Betty by a system ofaffectionate coaxing hard to resist, turned impulsively to begin thesiege to wrest the secret from her, but another reference to the maid ofhonor by Grace made her pause. Then she said suddenly, with thewell-known princess-like lifting of the head that they all admired:

"No, don't tell me, Betty. A maid of _honah_ should be too honahable toinsist on finding out things that were not intended for her to know. Ihadn't thought. If mothah took all the trouble of sending aspecial-delivery lettah to you to keep me from knowing till my birthday, I'm not going to pry around trying to find out. "

"Well, if you aren't the _queerest_, " began Grace. "One would think tohear you talk that 'maid of honor' was some great title to be lived upto like the 'Maid of Orleans, ' and that only some high and mightycreature like Joan of Arc could do it. But it's nothing more than to gofirst in the wedding march, and hold the bride's bouquet. I shouldn'tthink you'd let a little thing like that stand in the way of yourfinding out what you're so crazy to know. "

"_Wouldn't_ you?" asked Lloyd, with a slight shrug, and in a tone whichDora described afterward to Cornie as simply withering. 

 "'Well, that's the difference, as you see, Betwixt my lord the king and _me_!'"

To Grace's wonder, she dropped the sample of pink chiffon in Betty'slap, as if it had lost all interest for her, and stood up. 

"Come on, girls, " she exclaimed. "Let's take the rest of those pictuahs. There are two moah films left in the roll. "

"I might as well go with you, " said Betty, gathering up the loose leavesthat had fallen from her note-book. "It's no use trying to write with myhead so full of the grand secret. I couldn't possibly think of anythingelse. "

Arm in arm with Allison, she sauntered up the steps behind the others tothe old garden, which was the pride of every pupil in Warwick Hall. Thehollyhocks from Ann Hathaway's cottage had not yet begun to flaunt theirrosettes of color, but the rhododendrons from Killarney were in gorgeousbloom. As Lloyd focussed the camera in such a way as to make them abackground for a picture of the sun-dial, Betty heard Kitty ask: "You'lllet us know early in the morning what your present is, won't you, Princess?"

"Yes, I'll run into yoah room with it early in the mawning, just as soonas I lay eyes on it myself, " promised Lloyd, solemnly. 

"She can't!" whispered Betty to Allison, with a giggle. "In the firstplace, it's something that can't be carried, and in the second place itwill take a month for her to see all of it herself. "

Allison stopped short in the path, her face a picture of baffledcuriosity. "Betty Lewis, " she said, solemnly, "I could find it in myheart to choke you. Don't tempt me too far, or I'll do it with a goodgrace. "

Betty laughed and pushed aside the vines at the entrance to the arbor. "Come in here, " she said, in a low tone. "I've intended all along totell you as soon as we got away from Grace Campman and those freshmen, for it concerns you and Kitty, too. You missed the first house-party wehad at The Locusts, but you'll have a big share in the second one. For aJune house-party with a wedding in it is the 'surprise' godmother haswritten about in Lloyd's birthday letter. "

CHAPTER II. 

AT WARE'S WIGWAM

In order that Lloyd's invitation to her own house-party might reach heron her birthday, it had not been mailed until several days after theothers. So it happened that the same morning on which she slipped acrossthe hall in her kimono, to share her first rapturous delight with Kitty, Joyce Ware's letter reached the end of its journey. 

The postman on the first rural delivery route out of Phoenix joggedalong in his cart toward Ware's Wigwam. He had left the highway and wasfollowing the wheel-tracks which led across the desert to CamelbackMountain. The horse dropped into a plodding walk as the wheels beganpulling heavily through the sand, and the postman yawned. This stretchof road through the cactus and sage-brush was the worst part of hisdaily trip. He rarely passed anything more interesting than ajack-rabbit, but this morning he spied something ahead that aroused hiscuriosity. 

At first it seemed only a flash of something pink beating the air; but, as he jogged nearer, he saw that the flash of pink was a short-skirtedgingham dress. A high-peaked Mexican hat hid the face of the wearer, butit needed no second glance to tell him who she was. Every line of thesturdy little figure, from the uplifted arms brandishing a club to thedusty shoes planted widely apart to hold her balance, proclaimed that itwas Mary Ware. As the blows fell with relentless energy, the postmanchuckled. 

"Must be killing a snake, " he thought. "Whatever it is, it will beflatter than a pancake when she gets through with it. "

Somehow he always felt like chuckling when he met Mary Ware. Whatevershe happened to be doing was done with a zeal and a vim that made thisfourteen-year-old girl a never-failing source of amusement to theeasy-going postman. Now as he came within speaking distance, he saw asurrey drawn up to the side of the road, and recognized the horse as oldBogus from Lee's ranch. 

[Illustration: "IT NEEDED NO SECOND GLANCE TO TELL HIM WHO SHE WAS"]

A thin, tall woman, swathed in a blue veil, sat stiffly on the backseat, reaching forward to hold the reins in a grasp that showed bothfear and unfamiliarity in the handling of horses. She was a newboarder at Lee's ranch. Evidently they had been out on some errand forMrs. Lee, and were returning from one of the neighboring orange-groves, for the back of the surrey was filled with oranges and grapefruit. 

The postman's glance turned from the surrey to the object in the roadwith an exclamation of surprise. One of the largest rattlesnakes he hadever seen lay stretched out there, and Mary, having dropped her club, was proceeding to drag it toward the surrey by a short lasso made of apiece of the hitching-rope. The postman stood up in his cart to look atit. 

"Better be sure it's plumb dead before you give it a seat in yourcarriage, " he advised. 

Mary gave a glance of disgust toward the blue-veiled figure in thesurrey. 

"Oh, it's _dead_, " she said, witheringly. "Mr. Craydock shot its headoff to begin with, over at the orange-grove this morning, and I'vekilled it four different times on our way home. He gave it to me to taketo Norman for his collection. But Miss Scudder is so scared of it thatshe makes me get out every half-mile to pound a few more inches off itsneck. It was a perfect beauty when we started, --five feet long andtwelve rattles. I'm so afraid I'll break off some of the rattles thatI'll be mighty glad when I get it safely home. "

"So will I!" ejaculated Miss Scudder, so fervently that the postmanlaughed as he drove on. 

"Any mail for us?" Mary called after him. 

"Only some papers and a letter for your sister, " he answered over hisshoulder. 

"Now why didn't I ask him to take me and the snake on home in the cartwith him?" exclaimed Mary, as she lifted the rattler into the surrey bymeans of the lasso, and took the reins from the new boarder's uneasyhands. "Even if you can't drive, Bogus could take you to the ranch allright by himself. Lots of times when Hazel Lee and I are out driving, wewrap the reins around the whipholder and let him pick his own way. NowI'll have to drag this snake all the way from the ranch to the Wigwam, and it will be a dreadful holdback when I'm in such a hurry to get thereand see who Joyce's letter is from. 

"You see, " she continued, clucking cheerfully to Bogus, "the postman'smail-pouch is almost as interesting as a grab-bag, since my two brotherswent away. Holland is in the navy, " she added, proudly, "and my oldestbrother, Jack, has a position in the mines up where mamma and Normanand I are going to spend the summer. "

Three years in the desert had not made Mary Ware any the less talkative. At fourteen she was as much of a chatterbox as ever, but so diverting, with her fund of unexpected information and family history and hercheerful outlook on life, that Mrs. Lee often sent for her to amuse someinvalid boarder, to the mutual pleasure of the small philosopher and heraudience. 

The experiment this morning had proved anything but a pleasure drive foreither of them, however. Timid Miss Scudder, afraid of horses, afraid ofthe lonely desert, and with a deathly horror of snakes, gave a sigh ofrelief when they came in sight of the white tents clustered around thebrown adobe ranch house on the edge of the irrigating canal. But withthe end of her journey in sight, she relaxed her strained muscles andnerves somewhat, and listened with interest to what Mary was saying. 

"This year has brought three of us our heart's desires, anyhow. Hollandhas been wild to get into the navy ever since he was big enough to knowthat there is one. Jack has been looking forward to this position in themines ever since we came out West. It will be the making of him, everybody says. And Joyce's one dream in life has been to save enoughmoney to go East to take lessons in designing. Her bees have donesplendidly, but I don't believe she could have _quite_ managed it ifEugenia Forbes hadn't invited her to be one of the bridesmaids at herwedding, and promised to send her a pass to New York. "

She broke off abruptly as Bogus came to a stop in front of the tents, and, standing up, she proceeded to dangle the snake carefully over thewheel, till it was lowered in safety to the ground. Ordinarily she wouldhave lingered at the ranch until the occupant of every tent had strolledout to admire her trophy, and afterward might have accepted Hazel Lee'sinvitation to stay to dinner. It was a common occurrence for them tospend their Saturdays together. But to-day not even the promise ofstrawberry shortcake and a ride home afterward, when it was cooler, could tempt her to stay. 

The yellow road stretched hot and glaring across the treeless desert. The snake was too heavy to carry on a pole over her shoulder. She wouldhave to drag it through the sun and sand if she went now. But hercuriosity was too strong to allow her to wait. She must find out whatwas in that letter to Joyce. If it were from Jack, there would besomething in it about their plans for the summer; maybe a kodak pictureof the shack in the pine woods near the mines, where they were to board. If it were from Holland, there would be another interesting chapter ofhis experiences on board the training-ship. 

Once as she trudged along the road, it occurred to her that the lettermight be from her cousin Kate, the "witch with a wand, " who had so oftenplayed fairy godmother to the family. She might be writing to say thatshe had sent another box. Straightway Mary's active imagination fell topicturing its contents so blissfully that she forgot the heat of thesun-baked road over which she was going. Her face was beaded withperspiration and her eyes squinted nearly shut under the broad brim ofthe Mexican sombrero, but, revelling in the picture her mind called upof cool white dresses and dainty thin-soled slippers, she walked fasterand faster, oblivious to the heat and the glaring light. Her sunburnedcheeks were flaming red when she finally reached the Wigwam, and thelocks of hair straggling down her forehead hung in limp wet strings. 

Lifting the snake carefully across the bridge which spanned theirrigating canal, she trailed it into the yard and toward theumbrella-tree which shaded the rustic front porch. Under this shelteringumbrella-tree, which spread its dense arch like a roof, sat Joyce andher mother. The heap of muslin goods piled up around them showed thatthey had spent a busy morning sewing. But they were idle now. One glanceshowed Mary that the letter, whosever it was, had brought unusual news. Joyce sat on the door-step with it in her lap and her hands clasped overher knees. Mrs. Ware, leaning back in her sewing-chair, was opening andshutting a pair of scissors in an absent-minded manner, as if herthoughts were a thousand miles away. 

"Well, it's good news, anyway, " was Mary's first thought, as she glancedat her sister's radiant face. "She wouldn't look so pretty if it wasn't. It's a pity she can't be hearing good news all the time. When her eyesshine like that, she's almost beautiful. Now me, all the good news inthe world wouldn't make _me_ look beautiful, freckled and fat andsunburned as I am, and my hair so fine and thin and straight--"

She paused in her musings to look up each sleeve for her handkerchief, and not finding it in either, caught up the hem of her short pink skirtto wipe her perspiring face. 

"Oh, _what_ did the postman bring?" she demanded, seating herself on theedge of the hammock swung under the umbrella-tree. "I've almost walkedmyself into a sunstroke, hurrying to get here and find out. Is it fromJack or Holland or Cousin Kate?"

"It is from The Locusts, " answered Joyce, leaning forward to see whatwas tied to the other end of the rope which Mary still held. Seeing thatit was only a snake, something which Mary and Holland were alwaysdragging home, to add to their collection of skins and shells, she wenton:

"The Little Colonel is to have a second house-party. The same girls thatwere at the first one are invited for the month of June, and Eugenia isto be married there instead of in New York. Think what a wedding it willbe, in that beautiful old Southern home! A thousand times nicer than itwould have been in New York. "

She stopped to enjoy the effect her news had produced. Mary's face wasglowing with unselfish pleasure in her sister's good fortune. 

"And we're to wear pale pink chiffon dresses, just the color of wildroses. Eugenia got the material in Paris when she ordered herwedding-gown, and they're to be made in Louisville after we get there. "

The light in Mary's face was deepening. 

"And Phil Tremont is to be there the entire month of June. He is to bebest man, you know, since Eugenia is to marry his brother. "

"Oh, Joyce!" gasped Mary. "What a heavenly time you are going to have!Just The Locusts by itself would be good enough, but to be there at ahouse-party, and have Phil there and to see a wedding! I've alwayswanted to go to a wedding. I never saw one in my life. "

"Tell her the rest, daughter, " prompted Mrs. Ware, gently. "Don't keepher in the dark any longer. "

"Well, then, " said Joyce, smiling broadly. "Let me break it to you bydegrees, so the shock won't give you apoplexy or heart-failure. The restof it is, that _you_--Mary Ware, are invited also. _You_ are invited togo with me to the house-party at The Locusts! And _you'll_ see thewedding, for Mr. Sherman is going to send tickets for both of us, andmamma and I have made all the plans. Now that she is so well, she won'tneed either of us while she's up at the camp with Jack, and the moneyit would have taken to pay your board will buy the new clothes youneed. "

All the color faded out of the hot little face as Mary listened, growingpale with excitement. 

"Oh, mamma, is it _true_?" she asked, imploringly. "I don't see how itcan be. But Joyce wouldn't fool me about anything as big as this, wouldshe?"

She asked the question in such a quiver of eagerness that the tearssprang to her eyes. Joyce had expected her to spin around on her toesand squeal one delighted little squeal after another, as she usually didwhen particularly happy. She did not know what to expect next, when allof a sudden Mary threw herself across her mother's lap and began to soband laugh at the same time. 

"Oh, mamma, the old Vicar was right. It's been awfully hard sometimes tok-keep inflexible. Sometimes I thought it would nearly k-kill me! But wedid it! We did it! And now fortune _has_ changed in our favor, andeverything is all right!"

A rattle of wheels made her look up and hastily wipe the hem of her pinkskirt across her face again. A wagon was stopping at the gate, and theman who was to stay in one of the tents and take care of the bees intheir absence was getting out to discuss the details of thearrangement. Joyce tossed the letter into Mary's lap and rose to followher mother out to the hives. There were several matters of business toarrange with him, and Mary knew it would be some time before they couldresume the exciting conversation he had interrupted. She read the letterthrough, hardly believing the magnitude of her good fortune. But, as thetruth of it began to dawn upon her, she felt that she could not possiblykeep such news to herself another instant. It might be an hour beforeJoyce and her mother had finished discussing business with the man andNorman was away fishing somewhere up the canal. 

So, settling her hat on her head, she started back over the hot road, soabsorbed in the thought of all she had to tell Hazel that she was whollyunconscious of the fact that she was still holding tightly to the ropetied around the rattler's neck. Five feet of snake twitched along behindher as she started on a run toward the ranch. 

CHAPTER III. 

IN BEAUTY'S QUEST

 "Fortune has at last--fortune has at last-- Fortune has at last changed in our _fa_-vor!"

A hundred times, in the weeks that followed, Mary turned the old Vicar'ssaying into sort of a chant, and triumphantly intoned it as she wentabout the house, making preparations for her journey. Most of the timeshe was not aware that her lips were repeating what her heart wasconstantly singing, and one day, to her dire mortification, she chantedthe entire strain in one of the largest dry-goods stores in Phoenix, before she realized what she was doing. 

She had gone with Joyce to select some dress material for herself. Ithad been so long since Mary had had any clothes except garments madeover and handed down, that the wealth of choice offered her was almostoverpowering. To be sure it was a bargain counter they were hangingover, but the remnants of lawn and organdy and gingham were soentrancingly new in design and dainty in coloring, that without athought to appearances she caught up the armful of pretty things whichJoyce had decided they could afford. Clasping them ecstatically in animpulsive hug, she sang at the top of her voice, just as she would havedone had she been out alone on the desert: "Fortune has at last changedin our _fa_-vor!"

When Joyce's horrified exclamation and the clerk's amused smile recalledher to her surroundings, she could have gone under the counter withembarrassment. Although she flushed hotly for several days whenever shethought of the way everybody in the store turned to stare at her, shestill hummed the same words whenever a sense of her great good fortuneoverwhelmed her. Such times came frequently, especially whenever a newgarment was completed and she could try it on with much preening andmany satisfied turns before the mirror. 

It was on one of these occasions, when she was proudly revolving in thedaintiest of them all, a pale blue mull which she declared was the colorof a wild morning-glory, that a remark of her mother's, in the nextroom, filled her with dismay. It had not been intended for her ears, but it floated in distinctly, above the whirr of the sewing-machine. 

"Joyce, I am sorry we made up that blue for Mary. She's so tanned andsunburned that it seems to bring out all the red tints in her skin, andmakes her look like a little squaw. I never realized how this climatehas injured her complexion until I saw her in that shade of blue, andremembered how becoming it used to be. She was like an apple-blossom, all white and pink, when we came out here. "

Mary had been so busy looking at her new clothes that she had paidlittle attention to the face above them, reflected in the mirror. It hadtanned so gradually that she had become accustomed to having thatsunbrowned little visage always smile back at her. Besides, every oneshe met was tanned by the wind and weather, some of them spotted withbig dark freckles. Joyce wasn't. Joyce had always been careful aboutwearing a sunbonnet or a wide brimmed hat when she went out in the sun. Mary remembered now, with many compunctions, how often she had beenwarned to do the same. She wished with all her ardent little soul thatshe had not been so careless, and presently, after a serious, half-tearful study of herself in the glass, she went away to find aremedy. 

In the back of the cook-book, she remembered, there was a receipt forcold cream, and in a magazine Mrs. Lee had loaned them was a wholecolumn devoted to face bleaches and complexion restorers. Having readeach formula, she decided to try them all in turn, if the first did notprove effective. 

Buttermilk and lemon juice were to be had for the taking and could beapplied at night after Joyce had gone to sleep. Half-ashamed of thisdesire to make herself beautiful, Mary shrank from confiding hertroubles to any one. But several nights' use of all the home remediesshe could get, failed to produce the desired results. When she anxiouslyexamined herself in the glass, the unflattering mirror plainly showedher a little face, not one whit fairer for all its treatment. 

The house-party was drawing near too rapidly to waste time on things ofsuch slow action, and at last, in desperation, she took down thesavings-bank in which, after long hoarding, she had managed to savenearly two dollars. By dint of a button-hook and a hat-pin and an hour'spatient poking, she succeeded in extracting five dimes. These shewrapped in tissue paper, and folded in a letter. In a Phoenixnewspaper she had seen an advertisement of a magical cosmetic, to befound on sale at one of the local drug-stores, and this was an orderfor a box. 

She was accustomed to running out to watch for the postman. Often in hereagerness to get the mail she had met him half a mile down the road. Soshe had ample opportunity to send her order and receive a reply withoutthe knowledge of any of the family. 

It was a delicious-smelling ointment. The directions on the wrapper saidthat on retiring, it was to be applied to the face like a thick paste, and a linen mask worn to prevent its rubbing off. 

Now that the boys were away, Mary shared the circular tent with Joyce. The figures "mystical and awful" which she and Holland had put on itswalls with green paint the day they moved to the Wigwam, had fadedsomewhat in the fierce sun of tropical summers, but they still grinnedhideously from all sides. Outlandish as they were, however, no face onall the encircling canvas was as grotesque as the one which emerged fromunder the bed late in the afternoon, the day the box of cosmetic wasreceived. 

Mary had crept under the bed in order to escape Norman's prying eyes incase he should glance into the tent in search of her. There, stretchedout on the floor with a pair of scissors and a piece of one of her oldlinen aprons, she had fashioned herself a mask, in accordance with thedirections on the box. The holes cut for the eyes and nose were a trifleirregular, one eye being nearly half an inch higher than the other, andthe mouth was decidedly askew. But tapes sewed on at the four cornersmade it ready for instant use, and when she had put it on and crawledout from under the bed, she regarded herself in the glass with greatsatisfaction. 

"I hope Joyce won't wake up in the night and see me, " she thought. "She'd be scared stiff. This is a lot of trouble and expense, but I justcan't go to the house-party looking like a fright. I'd do lots more thanthis to keep the Princess from being ashamed of me. "

Then she put it away and went out to the hammock, under theumbrella-tree, and while she sat swinging back and forth for a longhappy hour, she pictured to herself the delights of the cominghouse-party. The Princess would be changed, she knew. Her lastphotograph showed that. One is almost grown up at seventeen, and she hadbeen only fourteen, Mary's age, when she made that never to be forgottenvisit to the Wigwam. And she would see Betty and Betty's godmother andPapa Jack and the old Colonel and Mom Beck. The very names, as sherepeated them in a whisper, sounded interesting to her. And the twolittle knights of Kentucky, and Miss Allison and the Waltons--they wereall mythical people in one sense, like Alice in Wonderland and Bo-peep, yet in another they were as real as Holland or Hazel Lee, for they werehousehold names, and she had heard so much about them that she felt asort of kinship with each one. 

With the mask and the box tucked away in readiness under her pillow, itwas an easy matter after Joyce had gone to sleep for Mary to liftherself to a sitting posture, inch by inch. Cautiously as a cat sheraised herself, then sat there in the darkness scooping out the smoothointment with thumb and finger, and spreading it thickly over herinquisitive little nose and plump round cheeks. All up under her hairand down over her chin she rubbed it with energy and thoroughness. Thentying on the mask, she eased herself down on her elbow, little bylittle, and snuggled into her pillow with a sigh of relief. 

It was a long time before she fell asleep. The odor of the ointment wassickeningly sweet, and the mask gave her a hot smothery feeling. Whenshe finally dozed off it was to fall into a succession of uneasy dreams. She thought that the cat was sitting on her face; that an old ogre hadher head tied up in a bag and was carrying it home to change into anapple dumpling, then that she was a fly and had fallen into a bottle ofmucilage. From the last dream she roused with a start, hot anduncomfortable, but hardly wide awake enough to know what was the matter. 

The salty dried beef they had had for supper made her intensely thirsty, and remembering the pitcher of fresh water which Joyce always broughtinto the tent every night, she slipped out of bed and stumbled acrossthe floor toward the table. The moon was several nights past the fullnow, so that at this late hour the walls of the tent glimmered white inits light, and where the flap was turned back at the end, it shone in, in a broad white path. 

Not more than half awake, Mary had forgotten the elaborate way in whichshe had tied up her face, and catching sight in the mirror of an awfulspook gliding toward her, she stepped back, almost frozen with terror. Never had she imagined such a hideous ghost, white as flour, with oneround eye higher than the other, and a dreadful slit of a mouth, allaskew. 

She was too frightened to utter a sound, but the pitcher fell to thefloor with a crash, and as the cold water splashed over her feet shebounded back into bed and pulled the cover over her head. Instantly, asher hand came in contact with the mask on her face, she realized that itwas only her own reflection in the glass which had frightened her, butthe shock was so great she could not stop trembling. 

Wakened by the sound of the breaking pitcher and Mary's wild plunge backinto bed, Joyce sat up in alarm, but in response to her whisper Maryexplained in muffled tones from under the bedclothes that she had simplygotten up for a drink of water and dropped the pitcher. All the rest ofthe night her sleep was fitful and uneasy, for toward morning her facebegan to burn as if it were on fire. She tore off the mask and used itto wipe away what remained of the ointment. Most of it had beenabsorbed, however, and the skin was broken out in little red blisters. 

Maybe in her zeal she had used too much of the magical cosmetic, ormaybe her face, already made tender by various applications, resentedthe vigorous rubbings she gave it. At any rate she had cause to befrightened when she saw herself in the mirror. As she lifted the pitcherfrom the wash-stand, she happened to glance at the proverb calendarhanging over the towel-rack, and saw the verse for the day. It was"Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall. "The big red letters stood out accusingly. 

"Oh dear, " she thought, as she plunged her burning face into the bowl ofcold water, "if I hadn't had so much miserable pride, I wouldn't havedestroyed what little complexion I had left. Like as not the skin willall peel off now, and I'll look like a half-scaled fish for weeks. "

She was so irritable later, when Joyce exclaimed over her blotched andmottled appearance, that Mrs. Ware decided she must be coming down withsome kind of rash. It was only to prevent her mother sending for adoctor, that Mary finally confessed with tears what she had done. 

"Why didn't you ask somebody?" said Joyce trying not to let her voicebetray the laughter which was choking her, for Mary showed a grief toodeep to ridicule. 

"I--I was ashamed to, " she confessed, "and I wanted to surprise you all. The advertisement said g-grow b-beautiful while you sleep, and now--oh, it's _spoiled_ me!" she wailed. "And I can't go to the house-party--"

"Yes, you can, goosey, " said Joyce, consolingly. "Mamma has GrandmaWare's old receipt for rose balm, that will soon heal those blisters. You would have saved yourself a good deal of trouble and suffering ifyou had gone to her in the first place. "

"Well, don't I know that?" blazed Mary, angrily. Then hiding her face inher arms she began to sob. "You don't know what it is to be uh-ugly likeme! I heard mamma say that I was as brown as a squaw, and I couldn'tbear to think of Lloyd and Betty and everybody at The Locusts seeing methat way. _That's_ why I did it!"

"You are not ugly, Mary Ware, " insisted Joyce, in a most reprovingbig-sisterly voice. "Everybody can't be a raving, tearing beauty, andanybody with as bright and attractive a little face as yours ought to besatisfied to let well enough alone. "

"That's all right for _you_" replied Mary, bitterly. "But you aren'tfat, with a turned-up nose and just a little thin straight pigtail ofhair. You're pretty, and an artist, and you're going to be somebody someday. But I'm just plain 'little Mary, ' with no talents or _anything_!"

Choking with tears, she rushed out of the room, and took refuge in theswing down by the beehives. For once the "School of the Bees" failed towhisper a comforting lesson. This was a trouble which she could not sealup in its cell, and for many days it poisoned all life's honey. Presently she slipped back into the house for a pencil and box of paper, and sitting on the swing with her geography on her knees for awriting-table, she poured out her troubles in a letter to Jack. It wasonly a few hundred miles to the mines, and she could be sure of asympathetic answer before the blisters were healed on her face, or thehurt had faded out of her sensitive little heart. 

CHAPTER IV. 

MARY'S "PROMISED LAND"

It was a hot, tiresome journey back to Kentucky. Joyce, worn out withall the hurried preparations of packing her mother and Norman off to themines, closing the Wigwam for the summer, and putting her own things inorder for a long absence, was glad to lean back in her seat with closedeyes, and take no notice of her surroundings. But Mary travelled in thesame energetic way in which she killed snakes. Nothing escaped her. Every passenger in the car, every sight along the way was an object ofinterest. She sat up straight and eager, scarcely batting an eyelash, for fear of missing something. 

To her great relief the peeling process had been a short one, and thanksto the rose balm, not a trace of a blister was left on her smooth skinto remind her of her foolish little attempt to beautify herself insecret. The first day she made no acquaintances, for she admired thereserved way in which her pretty nineteen-year-old sister travelled, andtried to imitate her, but after one day of elegant composure she longedfor a chance to drop into easy sociability with some of her neighbors. They no longer seemed like strangers after she had travelled in theircompany for twenty-four hours. 

So she seized the first social opportunity which came to her nextmorning. A middle-aged woman, who was taking up all the available spacein the dressing-room, grudgingly moved over a few inches when Mary triedto squeeze in to wash her face. Any one but Mary would have regarded heras a most unpromising companion, when she answered her question with agrumbling "Yes, been on two days, and got two more to go. " The tone wasas ungracious as if she had said, "Mind your own business. "

The train was passing over a section of rough road just then, and theyswayed against each other several times, with polite apologies on Mary'spart. Then as the woman finished skewering her hair into a tight knotshe relaxed into friendliness far enough to ask, "Going far yourself?"

"Yes, indeed!" answered Mary, cheerfully, reaching for a towel. "Goingto the Promised Land. "

The car gave a sudden lurch, and the woman dropped her comb, as she wassent toppling against Mary so forcibly that she pinned her to the wall amoment. 

"My!" she exclaimed as she regained her balance. "You don't mean clearto Palestine!"

"No'm; our promised land is Kentucky, " Mary hastened to explain. "Mammaused to live there, and she's told us so much about the beautiful timesthat she used to have in Lloydsboro Valley that it's been the dream ofour life to go there. Since we've been wandering around in the desert, sort of camping out the way the old Israelites did, we've got into theway of calling that our promised land. "

"Well, I wouldn't count too much on it, " advised the woman, sourly. "They say distance lends enchantment, and things hardly ever turn out asnice as you think they're going to. "

"They do at our house, " persisted Mary, with unfailing cheerfulness. "They generally turn out nicer. "

Evidently her companion felt the worse for a night in a sleeper and hadnot yet been set to rights with the world by her morning cup of coffee, for she answered as if Mary's rose-colored view of life so early in theday irritated her. 

"Well, maybe your folks are an exception to the rule, " she said, sharply, "but I know how it is with the world in general. Even old Moseshimself didn't have his journey turn out the way he expected to. Helooked forward to _his_ promised land for forty years, and then didn'tget to put foot on it. "

"But he got to go to heaven instead, " persisted Mary, triumphantly, "andthat's the best thing that could happen to anybody, especially if you'reone hundred and twenty years old. "

There was no answer to this statement, and another passenger appearingat the dressing-room door just then, the woman remarked something abouttwo being company and three a crowd, and squeezed past Mary to let thenewcomer take her place. 

"_She_ was more crowd than company, " remarked Mary confidentially to thelast arrival. "She took up most as much room as two people, and it'sawful the way she looks on the dark side of things. "

There was an amused twinkle in the newcomer's eyes. She was a muchyounger woman than the one whose place she had taken, and evidently itwas no trial for her to be sociable before breakfast. In a few minutesshe knew all about the promised land to which the little pilgrim wasjourneying, and showed such friendly interest in the wedding and theother delights in store for her that Mary lingered over her toilet aslong as possible, in order to prolong the pleasure of having such anattentive audience. 

But she found others just as attentive before the day was over. Thegrateful mother whose baby she played with, welcomed her advances as shewould have welcomed sunshine on a rainy day. The tired tourists whoyawned over their time-tables, found her enthusiastic interest ineverybody the most refreshing thing they had met in their travels. Bynight she was on speaking terms with nearly everybody in the car, and atlast, when the long journey was done, a host of good wishes andgood-byes followed her all down the aisle, as her new-made friendswatched her departure, when the train slowed into the Union Depot inLouisville. She little dreamed what an apostle of good cheer she hadbeen on her journey, or how long her eager little face and odd remarkswould be remembered by her fellow passengers. 

All she thought of as the train stopped was that at last she had reachedher promised land. 

Those of the passengers who had thrust their heads out of the windows, saw a tall, broad-shouldered young man come hurrying along toward thegirls, and heard Joyce exclaim in surprise, "Why, Rob Moore! Who everdreamed of seeing _you_ here? I thought you were in college?"

"So I was till day before yesterday, " he answered, as they shook handslike the best of old friends. "But grandfather was so ill theytelegraphed for me, and I got leave of absence for the rest of the term. We were desperately alarmed about him, but 'all's well that ends well, 'He is out of danger now, and it gave me this chance of coming to meetyou. "

Mary, standing at one side, watched in admiring silence the easy graceof his greeting and the masterful way in which he took possession ofJoyce's suit-case and trunk checks. When he turned to her to acknowledgehis introduction as respectfully as if she had been forty instead offourteen, her admiration shot up like mercury in a thermometer. She hadfelt all along that she knew Rob Moore intimately, having heard so muchof his past escapades from Joyce and Lloyd. It was Rob who had givenJoyce the little fox terrier, Bob, which had been such a joy to thewhole family. It was Rob who had shared all the interesting life at TheLocusts which she had heard pictured so vividly that she had long feltthat she even knew exactly how he looked. It was somewhat of a shock tofind him grown up into this dignified young fellow, broad of shouldersand over six feet tall. 

As he led the way out to the street and hailed a passing car, heexplained why Lloyd had not come in to meet them, adding, "Your trainwas two hours late, so I telephoned out to Mrs. Sherman that we wouldhave lunch in town. I'll take you around to Benedict's. "

Mary had never eaten in a restaurant before, so it was with an inwarddread that she might betray the fact that she followed Joyce and Rob toa side-table spread for three. In her anxiety to do the right thing shewatched her sister like a hawk, copying every motion, till they weresafely launched on the first course of their lunch. Then she relaxed herwatchfulness long enough to take a full breath and look at some of thepeople to whom Rob had bowed as they entered. 

She wanted to ask the name of the lady in black at the opposite table. The little girl with her attracted her interest so that she could hardlyeat. She was about her own age and she had such lovely long curls andsuch big dark eyes. To Mary, whose besetting sin was a love of prettyclothes, the picture hat the other girl wore was irresistible. Shecould not keep her admiring glances away from it, and she wished withall her heart she had one like it. Presently Joyce noticed it too, andasked the very question Mary had been longing to ask. 

"That is Mrs. Walton, the General's wife, you know, " answered Rob, "andher youngest daughter, Elise. You'll probably see all three of the girlswhile you're at The Locusts, for they're living in the Valley now andare great friends of Lloyd and Betty. "

"Oh, I know all about them, " answered Joyce, "for Allison and Kitty goto Warwick Hall, and Lloyd and Betty fill their letters with theirsayings and doings. " Mary stole another glance at the lady in black. Sothis was an aunt of the two little knights of Kentucky, and the motherof the "Little Captain, " whose name had been in all the papers as theyoungest commissioned officer in the entire army. She would havesomething to tell Holland in her next letter. He had always been sointerested in everything pertaining to Ranald Walton, and had envied himhis military career until he himself had an opportunity to go into thenavy. 

Presently Mrs. Walton finished her lunch, and on her way out stopped attheir table to shake hands with Rob. 

"I was sure that this is Joyce Ware and her sister, " she exclaimed, cordially, as Rob introduced them. "My girls are so excited over yourcoming they can hardly wait to meet you. They are having a littlehouse-party themselves, at present, some girls from Lexington and twoyoung army officers, whom I want you to know. Come here, Elise, and meetthe Little Colonel's Wild West friends. Oh, we've lived in Arizona too, you know, " she added, laughing, "and I've a thousand questions to askyou about our old home. I'm looking forward to a long, cozy toe-to-toeon the subject, every time you come to The Beeches. "

After a moment's pleasant conversation she passed on, leaving such animpression of friendly cordiality that Joyce said, impulsively, "She'sjust _dear_! She makes you feel as if you'd known her always. Nowtoe-to-toe, for instance. That's lots more intimate and sociable thantête-à-tête. "

"That's what I thought, too, " exclaimed Mary. "And isn't it nice, whenyou come visiting this way, to know everybody's history beforehand! Thenjust as soon as they appear on the scene you can fit in a backgroundbehind them. "

It was the first remark Mary had made in Rob's hearing, except anoccasional monosyllable in regard to her choice of dishes on the billof fare, and he turned to look at her with an amused smile, as if he hadjust waked up to the fact that she was present. 

"She's a homely little thing, " he thought, "but she looks as if shemight grow up to be diverting company. She couldn't be a sister ofJoyce's and not be bright. " Then, in order to hear what she might say, he began to ask her questions. She was eating ice-cream. Joyce, who hadrefused dessert on account of a headache, opened her chatelaine bag totake out an envelope already stamped and addressed. 

"If you'll excuse me while you finish your coffee, " she said to Rob, "I'll scribble a line to mamma to let her know we've arrived safely. I've dropped notes all along the way, but this is the one she'll bewaiting for most anxiously. It will take only a minute. "

"Certainly, " answered Rob, looking at his watch. "We have over twentyminutes to catch the next trolley out to the Valley. They run everyhalf-hour now, you know. So take your time. It will give me a chance totalk to Mary. She hasn't told me yet what her impressions are of thisgrand old Commonwealth. "

If he had thought his teasing tone would bring the color to her face, itwas because he was not as familiar with her background as she was withhis. A long apprenticeship under Jack and Holland had made her proofagainst ordinary banter. 

"Well, " she began, calmly, mashing the edges of her ice-cream with herspoon to make it melt faster, "so far it is just as I imagined it wouldbe. I've always thought of Kentucky as a place full of colored peopleand pretty girls and polite men. Of course I've not been anywhere yetbut just in this room, and it certainly seems to be swarming withcolored waiters. I can't see all over the room without turning around, but the ladies at the tables in front of me and the ones reflected inthe mirrors are good-looking and stylish. Those girls you bowed to overthere are pretty enough to be Gibson girls, just stepped out of amagazine; and so far--_you_ are the only man I have met. "

"Well, " he said after a moment's waiting, "you haven't given me youropinion of _me_. "

There was a quizzical twinkle in his eye, which Mary, intent upon herbeloved ice-cream, did not see. Her honest little face was perfectlyserious as she replied, "Oh, _you_, --you're like Marse Phil and MarseChan and those men in Thomas Nelson Page's stones of 'Ole Virginia, ' Ilove those stories, don't you? Especially the one about 'Meh Lady. ' Ofcourse I know that everybody in the South can't be as nice as they are, but whenever I think of Kentucky and Virginia I think of people likethat. "

Such a broad compliment was more than Rob was prepared for. Anembarrassed flush actually crept over his handsome face. Joyce, glancingup, saw it and laughed. 

"Mary is as honest as the father of his country himself, " she said. "I'll warn you now. She'll always tell exactly what she thinks. "

"Now, Joyce, " began Mary, indignantly, "you know I don't tell everythingI think. I'll admit that I did use to be a chatterbox, when I waslittle, but even Holland says I'm not, now. "

"I didn't mean to call you a chatterbox, " explained Joyce. "I was justwarning Rob that he must expect perfectly straightforward replies to hisquestions. "

Joyce bent over her letter, and in order to start Mary to talking again, Rob cast about for another topic of conversation. 

"You wouldn't call those three girls at that last table, Gibson girls, would you?" he asked. "Look at that dark slim one with the red cherriesin her hat. "

Mary glanced at her critically. "No, " she said, slowly. "She is notexactly pretty now, but she's the ugly-duckling kind. She may turn outto be the most beautiful swan of them all. I like that the best of anyof Andersen's fairy tales. Don't you? I used to look at myself in theglass and tell myself that it would be that way with me. That mystraight hair and pug nose needn't make any difference; that some dayI'd surprise people as the ugly duckling did. But Jack said, no, I amnot the swan kind. That no amount of waiting will make straight haircurly and a curly nose straight. Jack says I'll have my innings when Iam an old lady--that I'll not be pretty till I'm old. Then he says I'llmake a beautiful grandmother, like Grandma Ware. He says her face waslike a benediction. That's what he wrote to me just before I left home. Of course I'd rather be a beauty than a benediction, any day. But Jacksays he laughs best who laughs last, and it's something to look forwardto, to know you're going to be nice-looking in your old age when allyour friends are wrinkled and faded. "

Rob's laugh was so appreciative that Mary felt with a thrill that he wasfinding her really entertaining. She was sorry that Joyce's letter cameto an end just then. Her mother's last warning had been for her toremember on all occasions that she was much younger than Joyce'sfriends, and they would not expect her to take a grown-up share of theirconversation. She had promised earnestly to try to curb her activelittle tongue, no matter how much she wanted to be chief spokesman, andnow, remembering her promise, she relapsed into sudden silence. 

All the way out to the Valley she sat with her hands folded in her lap, on the seat opposite Joyce and Rob. The car made so much noise she couldcatch only an occasional word of their conversation, so she sat lookingout of the window, busy with her thoughts. 

"Sixty minutes till we get there. Now it's only fifty-nine. Now it'sfifty-eight--just like the song 'Ten little, nine little, eight littleIndians. ' Pretty soon there'll just be one minute left. "

At this exciting thought the queer quivery feeling inside was so strongit almost choked her. Her heart gave a great thump when Joyce finallycalled, "Here we are, " and Rob signalled the conductor to stop outsidethe great entrance gate. 

"The Locusts" at last. Pewees in the cedars and robins on the lawn;everywhere the cool deep shadows of great trees, and wide stretches ofwaving blue-grass. Stately white pillars of an old Southern mansiongleamed through the vines at the end of the long avenue. Then a flutterof white dresses and gay ribbons, and Lloyd and Betty came running tomeet them. 

CHAPTER V. 

AT "THE LOCUSTS"

Lloyd and Betty had been home from Warwick Hall only two days, and thejoyful excitement of arrival had not yet worn off. The Locusts had neverlooked so beautiful to them as it did this vacation, and theirenthusiasm over all that was about to happen kept them in a flutter frommorning till night. 

When Rob's telephone message came that the train was late and that hecould not bring the girls out until after lunch, Lloyd chafed at thedelay at first. Then she consoled herself with the thought that shecould arrange a more effective welcome for the middle of the afternoonthan for an earlier hour. 

"Grandfathah will have had his nap by that time, " she said, with a saucyglance in his direction, "and he will be as sweet and lovely as a Maymawning. And he'll have on a fresh white suit for the evening, and acah'nation in his buttonhole. " Then she gave her orders more directly. 

"You must be suah to be out on the front steps to welcome them, grandfathah, with yoah co'tliest bow. And mothah, you must be beside himin that embroidered white linen dress of yoahs that I like so much. MomBeck will stand in the doahway behind you all just like a pictuah of anold-time South'n welcome. Of co'se Joyce has seen it all befoah, butlittle Mary has been looking foh'wa'd to this visit to The Locusts asshe would to heaven. You know what Joyce wrote about her calling thisher promised land. "

"I know how it is going to make her feel, " said Betty. "Just as it mademe feel when I got here from the Cuckoo's Nest, and found this 'HouseBeautiful' of my dreams. And if she is the little dreamer that I was thebest time will not be the arrival, but early candle-lighting time, whenyou are playing on your harp. I used to sit on a foot-stool atgodmother's feet, so unutterably happy, that I would have to put out myhand to feel her dress. I was so afraid that she might vanish--thateverything was too lovely to be real. 

"And now, to think, " she added, turning to Mrs. Sherman andaffectionately laying a hand on each shoulder, "it's lasted all thistime, till I have grown so tall that I could pick you up and carry youoff, little godmother. I am going to do it some day soon, lift you upbodily and put you into a story that I have begun to write. It will bemy best work, because it is what I have lived. "

"You'd better live awhile longer, " laughed Mrs. Sherman, "before youbegin to settle what your best work will be. Think how the shy littleElizabeth of twelve has blossomed into the stately Elizabeth ofeighteen, and think what possibilities are still ahead of you in thenext six years. "

"When mothah and Betty begin to compliment each othah, " remarked Lloyd, seating herself on the arm of the old Colonel's chair, "they are lost toall else in the world. So while we have this moment to ou'selves, mydeah grandfathah, I want to impress something on yoah mind, veryforcibly. "

The playful way in which she held him by the ears was a familiarity noone but Lloyd had ever dared take with the dignified old Colonel. Sheemphasized each sentence with a gentle pull and pinch. 

"Maybe you wouldn't believe it, but this little Mary Ware who is coming, has a most exalted opinion of me. From what Joyce says she thinks I amperfect, and I don't want her disillusioned. It's so nice to havesomebody look up to you that way, so I want to impress it on you thatyou're not to indulge in any reminiscence of my past while she is heah. You mustn't tell any of my youthful misdemeanahs that you are fond oftelling--how I threw mud on yoah coat, in one of my awful tempahs, andsmashed yoah shaving-mug with a walking-stick, and locked Walkah down inthe coal cellah when he wouldn't do what I wanted him to. You must 'letthe dead past bury its dead, and act--act in the living present, ' sothat she'll think that _you_ think that I'm the piece of perfection sheimagines me to be. "

"I'll be a party to no such deception, " answered the old Colonel, sternly, although his eyes, smiling fondly on her, plainly spokeconsent. "You know you're the worst spoiled child in Oldham County. "

"Whose fault is it?" retorted Lloyd, with a final pinch as she liberatedhis ears and darted away. "Ask Colonel George Lloyd. If there was anyspoiling done, he did it. "

Two hours later, still in the gayest of spirits, Lloyd and Betty raceddown the avenue to meet their guests, and tired and travel-stained asthe newcomers were, the impetuous greeting gave them a sense of havingbeen caught up into a gay whirl of some kind. It gave them an excitedthrill which presaged all sorts of delightful things about to happen. The courtly bows of the old Colonel, standing between the great whitepillars, Mrs. Sherman's warm welcome, and Mom Beck's old-time curtseys, seemed to usher them into a fascinating story-book sort of life, farmore interesting than any Mary had yet read. 

Several hours later, sitting in the long drawing-room, she wondered ifshe could be the same girl who one short week before was chasing acrossthe desert like a Comanche Indian, beating the bushes for rattlesnakes, or washing dishes in the hot little kitchen of the Wigwam. Here in thesoft light shed from many waxen tapers in the silver candelabra, surrounded by fine old ancestral portraits, and furniture that shonewith the polish of hospitable generations, Mary felt civilized down toher very finger-tips: so thoroughly a lady, through and through, thatthe sensation sent a warm thrill over her. 

That feeling had begun soon after her arrival, when Mom Beck ushered herinto a luxurious bathroom. Mary enjoyed luxury like a cat. As shesplashed away in the big porcelain tub, she wished that Hazel Lee couldsee the tiled walls, the fine ample towels with their embroideredmonograms, the dainty soaps, and the cut-glass bottles of toilet-water, with their faint odor as of distant violets. Then she wondered if MomBeck would think that she had refused her offers of assistance becauseshe was not used to the services of a lady's maid. She was half-afraidof this old family servant in her imposing head-handkerchief and whiteapron. 

Recalling Joyce's experiences in France and what had been the duties ofher maid, Marie, she decided to call her in presently to brush her hairand tie her slippers. Afterward she was glad that she had done so, forMom Beck was a practised hair-dresser, and made the most of Mary's thinlocks. She so brushed and fluffed and be-ribboned them in a new way, with a big black bow on top, that Mary beamed with satisfaction when shelooked in the glass. The new way was immensely becoming. 

Then when she went down to dinner, it seemed so elegant to find Mr. Sherman in a dress suit. The shaded candles and cut glass and silver androses on the table made it seem quite like the dinner-parties she hadread about in novels, and the talk that circled around of the latestbooks and the new opera, and the happenings in the world at large, andthe familiar mention of famous names, made her feel as if she were inthe real social whirl at last. 

The name of copy-cat which Holland had given her proved well-earned now, for so easily did she fall in with the ways about her, that one wouldhave thought her always accustomed to formal dinners, with a deftcolored waiter like Alec at her elbow. 

Rob dined with them, and later in the evening Mrs. Walton came strollingover in neighborly fashion, bringing her house-party to call on theother party, she said, though to be sure only half of her guests hadarrived, the two young army officers, George Logan and Robert Stanley. Allison and Kitty were with them, and--Mary noted with a quick indrawnbreath--_Ranald_. The title of _Little_ Captain no longer fitted him. Hewas far too tall. She was disappointed to find him grown. 

Somehow all the heroes and heroines whom she had looked upon as her ownage, who _were_ her own age when the interesting things she knew aboutthem had happened, were all grown up. Her first disappointment had beenin Rob, then in Betty. For this Betty was not the one Joyce had picturedin her stories of the first house-party. This one had long dresses, andher curly hair was tucked up on her head in such a bewitchinglyyoung-ladified way that Mary was in awe of her at first. She was notdisappointed in her now, however, and no longer in awe, since Betty hadpiloted her over the place, swinging hands with her in as friendly afashion as if she were no older than Hazel Lee, and telling the way shelooked when _she_ saw The Locusts for the first time--a timid littlecountry girl in a sunbonnet, with a wicker basket on her arm. 

The military uniforms lent an air of distinction to the scene, andAllison and Kitty each began a conversation in such a vivacious way, that Mary found it difficult to decide which group to attach herself to. She did not want to lose a word that any one was saying, and the effortto listen to several separate conversations was as much of a strain astrying to watch three rings at the circus. 

Through the laughter and the repartee of the young people she heard Mrs. Walton say to Mr. Sherman: "Yes, only second lieutenants, but I've beenan army woman long enough to appreciate them as they deserve. They haveno rank to speak of, few privileges, are always expected to do theagreeable to visitors (and they do it), obliged to give up theirquarters at a moment's notice, take the duties nobody else wants, becheerful under all conditions, and ready for anything. It is anexception when a second lieutenant is not dear and fascinating. As forthese two, I am doubly fond of them, for their fathers were army menbefore them, and old-time friends of ours. George I knew as a little ladin Washington. I must tell you of an adventure of his, that shows what asterling fellow he is. "

Mary heard only part of the anecdote, for at the same time Kitty wastelling an uproariously funny joke on Ranald, and all the rest werelaughing. But she heard enough to make her take a second look atLieutenant Logan. He was leaning forward in his chair, talking to Joycewith an air of flattering interest. And Joyce, in one of her newdresses, her face flushed a little from the unusual excitement, wastalking her best and looking her prettiest. 

[Illustration: "HE WAS LEANING FORWARD IN HIS CHAIR, TALKING TO JOYCE"]

"She's having a good time just like other girls, " thought Mary, thankfully. "This will make up for lots of lonely times in the desert, when she was homesick for the high-school girls and boys at Plainsville. It would be fine if things would turn out so that Joyce liked an armyman. If she married one and lived at a post she'd invite me to visither. Lieutenant Logan might be a general some day, and it would be niceto have a great man in the family. I wish mamma and Jack and Hollandcould see what a good time we are having. "

It did not occur to Mary that, curled up in a big chair in the corner, she was taking no more active share in the good times than the portraitson the wall. Her eager smile and the alert happy look in her eyes showedthat she was all a-tingle with the unusual pleasure the evening wasaffording her. She laughed and looked and listened, sure that the sceneshe was enjoying was as good as a play. She had never seen a play, it istrue; but she had read of them, and of player folk, until she knew shewas fitted to judge of such things. 

It was a pleasure just to watch the gleam of the soft candle-light onKitty's red ribbons, or on the string of gold beads around Allison'swhite throat. Maybe it was the candle-light which threw such a softglamour over everything and made it seem that the pretty girls and theyoung lieutenants were only portraits out of a beautiful old past whohad stepped down from their frames for a little while. Yet when Maryglanced up, the soldier boy was still in his picture on the wall, andthe beautiful girl with the June rose in her hair was still in herframe, standing beside her harp, her white hand resting on its shiningstrings. 

"It is my grandmothah Amanthis, " explained Lloyd in answer to thelieutenant's question, as his gaze also rested admiringly on it. "Yes, this is the same harp you see in the painting. Yes, I play a little. Ilearned to please grandfathah. "

Then, a moment later, Mary reached the crown of her evening's enjoyment, for Lloyd, in response to many voices, took her place beside the harpbelow the picture, and struck a few deep, rich chords. Then, with anairy running accompaniment, she began the Dove Song from the play of"The Princess Winsome:"

 "Flutter and fly, flutter and fly, Bear him my heart of gold. "

It was all as Mary had imagined it would be, a hundred times in herday-dreams, only far sweeter and more beautiful. She had not thought howthe white sleeves would fall back from the round white arms, or how hervoice would go fluttering up like a bird, sweet and crystal clear on thelast high note. 

Afterward, when the guests were gone and everybody had said good night, Mary lay awake in the pink blossom of a room which she shared withJoyce, the same room Joyce had had at the first house-party. She washaving another good time, thinking it all over. She thought scornfullyof the woman on the sleeping-car who had told her that distance lendsenchantment, and that she must not expect too much of her promised land. She hoped she might meet that woman again some day, so that she couldtell her that it was not only as nice as she had expected to find it, but a hundred times nicer. 

She reminded herself that she must tell Betty about her in the morning. As she recalled one pleasant incident after another, she thought, "Now_this_ is _life_! No wonder Lloyd is so bright and interesting when shehas been brought up in such an atmosphere. "

CHAPTER VI. 

THE FOX AND THE STORK

Lloyd Sherman at seventeen was a combination of all the characters hermany nicknames implied. The same imperious little ways and hastyoutbursts of temper that had won her the title of Little Colonel showedthemselves at times. But she was growing so much like the gentle maidenof the portrait that the name "Amanthis" trembled on the old Colonel'slips very often when he looked at her. The Tusitala ring on her fingershowed that she still kept in mind the Road of the Loving Heart, whichshe was trying to leave behind her in every one's memory, and the stringof tiny Roman pearls she sometimes clasped around her throat bore silentwitness to her effort to live up to the story of Ederyn, and keep trystwith all that was expected of her. 

When a long line of blue-blooded ancestors has handed down a heritage ofproud traditions and family standards, it is no easy matter to be allthat is expected of an only child. But Lloyd was meeting allexpectations, responding to the influence of beauty and culture withwhich she had always been surrounded, as unconsciously as a bud unfoldsto the sunshine. Her ambition "to make undying music in the world, " tofollow in the footsteps of her beautiful grandmother Amanthis, was initself a reaching-up to one of the family ideals. 

When the girls began calling her the Princess Winsome, unconsciously shebegan to reach up to be worthy of that title also, but when she foundthat Mary Ware was taking her as a model Maid of Honor, in all that thattitle implies, she began to feel that a burden was laid upon hershoulders. She had had such admirers before: little Magnolia Budine atLloydsboro Seminary, and Cornie Dean at Warwick Hall. It was pleasant toknow that they considered her perfection, but it was a strain to feelthat she was their model, and that they copied her in everything, herfaults as well as her graces. They had followed her like shadows, andsuch devotion grows tiresome. 

Happily for Mary Ware, whatever else she did, she never bored any one. She was too independent and original for that. When she found anoccasion to talk, she made the most of her opportunity, and talked withall her might, but her sensitiveness to surroundings always told herwhen it was time to retire into the background, and she could be so dumbas to utterly efface herself when the time came for her to keep silent. 

A long list of delights filled her first letter home, but the one mostheavily underscored, and chief among them all, was the fact that the biggirls did not seem to consider her a "little pitcher" or a "tag. " Nomatter where they went or what they talked about, she was free to followand to listen. It was interesting to the verge of distraction when theytalked merely of Warwick Hall and the schoolgirls, or recalled variousthings that had happened at the first house-party. But when theydiscussed the approaching wedding, the guests, the gifts, thedecorations, and the feast, she almost held her breath in her eagerenjoyment of it. 

Several times a day, after the passing of the trains, Alec came up fromthe station with express packages. Most of them were wedding presents, which the bridesmaids pounced upon and carried away to the green room toawait Eugenia's arrival. Every package was the occasion of much guessingand pinching and wondering, and the mystery was almost as exciting asthe opening would have been. 

The conversation often led into by-paths that were unexplored regions tothe small listener in the background among the window-seat cushions:husbands and lovers and engagements, all the thrilling topics that awedding in the family naturally suggests. Sometimes a whole morningwould go by without her uttering a word, and Mrs. Sherman, who had heardwhat a talkative child she was, noticed her silence. Thinking it wasprobably dull for her, she reproached herself for not having providedsome especial company for the entertainment of her youngest guest, andstraightway set to work to do so. 

Next morning a box of pink slippers was sent out from Louisville onapproval, and the bridesmaids and maid of honor, seated on the floor inBetty's room, tried to make up their minds which to choose, --the kid orthe satin ones. With each slim right foot shod in a fairy-like coveringof shimmering satin, and each left one in daintiest pink kid, the threegirls found it impossible to determine which was the prettier, andcalled upon Mary for her opinion. 

All in a flutter of importance, she was surveying the pretty exhibit ofoutstretched feet, when Mom Beck appeared at the door with a messagefrom Mrs. Sherman. There was a guest for Miss Mary in the library. Wouldshe please go down at once. Her curiosity was almost as great as herreluctance to leave such an interesting scene. She stood in the middleof the floor, wringing her hands. 

"Oh, if I could only be in two places at once!" she exclaimed. "Butmaybe whoever it is won't stay long, and I can get back before youdecide. "

Hurrying down the stairs, she went into the library, where Mrs. Shermanwas waiting for her. 

"This is one of our little neighbors, Mary, " she said, "GirlieDinsmore. "

A small-featured child of twelve, with pale blue eyes and long, paleflaxen curls, came forward to meet her. To Mary's horror, she held adoll in her arms almost as large as herself, and on the table beside herstood a huge toy trunk. 

"I brought all of Evangeline's clothes with me, " announced Girlie, assoon as Mrs. Sherman had left them to themselves. "'Cause I came to stayall morning, and I knew she'd have plenty of time to wear every dressshe owns. "

Mary could not help the gasp of dismay that escaped her, thinking ofthat fascinating row of pink slippers awaiting her up-stairs. Frombridesmaids to doll-babies is a woful fall. 

"Where is your doll?" demanded Girlie. 

"Oh, I haven't any, " said Mary, with a grown-up shrug of the shoulders. "I stopped playing with them ages ago. "

Then realizing what an impolite speech that was, she hastened to makeamends by adding: "I sometimes dress Hazel Lee's, though. Hazel is oneof my friends back in Arizona. Once I made a whole Indian costume for itlike the squaws make. The moccasins were made out of the top of a kidglove, and beaded just like real ones. "

Girlie's pale eyes opened so wide at the mention of Indians that Maryalmost forgot her disappointment at being called away from the biggirls, and proceeded to make them open still wider with her tales oflife on the desert. In a few moments she carried the trunk out on to avine-covered side porch, where they made a wigwam out of two hammocksand a sunshade, and changed the waxen Evangeline into a blanketed squaw, with feathers in her blond Parisian hair. 

Mom Beck looked out several times, and finally brought them a set ofLloyd's old doll dishes and the daintiest of luncheons to spread on alow table. There were olive sandwiches, frosted cakes, berries andcream, and bonbons and nuts in a silver dish shaped like a calla-lily. 

For the first two hours Mary really enjoyed being hostess, although nowand then she wished she could slip up-stairs long enough to see what thegirls were doing. But when she had told all the interesting tales shecould think of, cleared away the remains of the feast, and played withthe doll until she was sick of the sight of it, she began to be heartilytired of Girlie's companionship. 

"She's such a baby, " she said to herself, impatiently. "She doesn't knowmuch more than a kitten. " It seemed to her that the third long hournever would drag to an end. But Girlie evidently enjoyed it. When thecarriage came to take her home, she said, enthusiastically:

"I've had such a good time this morning that I'm coming over everysingle day while you're here. I can't ask you over to our house 'causemy grandma is so sick it wouldn't be any fun. We just have to tiptoearound and not laugh out loud. But I don't mind doing all the visiting. "

"Oh, it will spoil everything!" groaned Mary to herself, as she ranup-stairs when Girlie was at last out of sight. She felt that nothingcould compensate her for the loss of the whole morning, and the thoughtof losing any more precious time in that way was unendurable. 

Mrs. Sherman met her in the hall, and pinched her cheek playfully as shepassed her. "You make a charming little hostess, my dear, " she said. "Ilooked out several times, and you were so absorbed with your play thatit made me wish that I could be a little girl again, and join you withmy poor old Nancy Blanche doll and my grand Amanthis that papa broughtme from New Orleans. I'll have to resurrect them for you out of theattic, for I'm afraid it has been stupid for you here, with nobody yourown age. "

"Oh, no'm! Don't! Please don't!" protested Mary, a worried look on herhonest little face. She was about to add, "I can't bear dolls any more. I only played with them to please Girlie, " when Lloyd came out of herroom with a letter. 

"It's from the bride-to-be, mothah, " she called, waving it gaily. 

"She'll be heah day aftah to-morrow, so we can begin to put thefinishing touches to her room. The day she comes I'm going to take thegirls ovah to Rollington to get some long sprays of bride's wreath. Mrs. Crisp has two big bushes of it, white as snow. It will look so cool andlovely, everything in the room all green and white. "

Mary stole away to her room, ready to cry. If every morning had to bespent with that tiresome Dinsmore child, she might as well have stayedon the desert. 

"I simply have to get rid of her in some way, " she mused. "It won't doto snub her, and I don't know any other way. I wish I could see Hollandfor about five minutes. He'd think of a plan. "

So absorbed was she in her problem that she forgot to ask whether thekid or the satin slippers had been chosen, and she went down to lunchstill revolving her trouble in her mind. On the dining-room wallopposite her place at table were two fine old engravings, illustratingthe fable of the famous dinners given by the Fox and the Stork. In thefirst the stork strove vainly to fill its bill at the flat dish fromwhich the fox lapped eagerly, while in the companion picture the fox satby disconsolate while the stork dipped into the high slim pitcher, whichthe hungry guest could not reach. 

Mary had noticed the pictures in a casual way every time she took a seatat the table, for the beast and the bird were old acquaintances. She hadlearned La Fontaine's version of the fable one time to recite atschool. To-day, with the problem in her mind of how to rid herself of anunwelcome guest, they suddenly took on a new meaning. 

"I'll do just the way the stork did, " she thought, gleefully. "Thismorning Girlie had everything her way, and we played little silly babygames till I felt as flat as the dish that fox is eating out of. But shehad a beautiful time. To-morrow morning I'm going to be stork, and makemy conversation so deep she can't get her little baby mind into it atall. I'll be awfully polite, but I'll hunt up the longest words I canfind in the dictionary, and talk about the books I've read, and she'llhave such a stupid time she won't want to come again. "

The course of action once settled upon, Mary fell to work with her usualenergy. While the girls were taking their daily siesta, she dressedearly and went down into the library. If it had not been for the fear ofmissing something, she would have spent much of her time in thatattractive room. Books looked down so invitingly from the many shelves. All the June magazines lay on the library table, their pages stilluncut. Everybody had been too busy to look at them. She hesitated amoment over the tempting array, but remembering her purpose, grimlypassed them by and opened the big dictionary. 

Rob found her still poring over it, pencil and paper in hand, when helooked into the room an hour later. 

"What's up now?" he asked. 

She evaded his question at first, but, afraid that he would tease herbefore the girls about her thirst for knowledge and her study of thedictionary, and that that might lead to the thwarting of her plans, shesuddenly decided to take him into her confidence. 

"Well, " she began, solemnly, "you know mostly I loathe dolls. SometimesI do dress Hazel Lee's for her, but I don't like to play with themregularly any more as I used to, --talk for them and all that. But GirlieDinsmore was here this morning, and I had to do it because she iscompany. She had such a good time that she said she was coming over hereevery single morning while I'm here. I just can't have my lovely visitspoiled that way. The bride is coming day after to-morrow, and she'll beopening her presents and showing her trousseau to the girls, and Iwouldn't miss it for anything. So I've made up my mind I'll be just aspolite as possible, but I'll do as the stork did in the fable; make myentertainment so deep she won't enjoy it. I'm hunting up the longestwords I can find and learning their definitions, so that I can use themproperly. "

Rob, looking over her shoulder, laughed to see the list she had chosen:

 "Indefatigability, Juxtaposition, Loquaciousness, Pabulum, Peregrinate, Longevous. "

"You see, " explained Mary, "sometimes there is a quotation after theword from some author, so I've copied a lot of them to use, instead ofmaking up sentences myself. Here's one from Shakespeare about alacrity. And here's one from Arbuthnot, whoever he was, that will make herstare. "

She traced the sentence with her forefinger, for Rob's glance to follow:"_Instances of longevity are chiefly among the abstemious_. "

"Girlie won't have any more idea of what I'm talking about than ajay-bird. "

To Mary's astonishment, the laugh with which Rob received her confidencewas so long and loud it ended in a whoop of amusement, and when he hadcaught his breath he began again in such an infectious way that thegirls up-stairs heard it and joined in. Then Lloyd leaned over thebanister to call:

"What's the mattah, Rob? You all seem to be having a mighty funny timedown there. Save your circus for us. We'll be down in a few minutes. "

"This is just a little private side-show of Mary's and mine, " answeredRob, going off into another peal of laughter at sight of Mary's solemnface. There was nothing funny in the situation to her whatsoever. 

"Oh, don't tell, Mister Rob, " she begged. "Please don't tell. Joycemight think it was impolite, and would put a stop to it. It seems funnyto you, but when you think of my whole lovely visit spoiled that way--"

She stopped abruptly, so much in earnest that her voice broke and hereyes filled with tears. 

Instantly Rob's laughter ceased, and he begged her pardon in such agrave, kind way, assuring her that her confidence should be respected, that her admiration of him went up several more degrees. When the girlscame down, he could not be prevailed upon to tell them what had sent himoff into such fits of laughter. "Just Mary's entertaining remarks, " wasall he would say, looking across at her with a meaning twinkle in hiseyes. She immediately retired into the background as soon as the oldergirls appeared, but she sat admiring every word Rob said, and watchingevery movement. 

"He's the very nicest man I ever saw, " she said to herself. "He treatsme as if I were grown up, and I really believe he likes to hear metalk. "

Once when they were arranging for a tennis game for the next morning, hecrossed the room with an amused smile, to say to her in a low aside:"I've thought of something to help along the stork's cause. Bring thelittle fox over to the tennis-court to watch the game. If she doesn'tfind that sufficiently stupid, and you run short of big words, readaloud to her, and tell her that is what you intend to do every day. "

Such a pleased, gratified smile flashed over Mary's face that Bettyexclaimed, curiously: "I certainly would like to know what mischief youtwo are planning. You laugh every time you look at each other. "

Girlie Dinsmore arrived promptly next morning, trunk, doll, and all, expecting to plunge at once into an absorbing game of lady-come-to-see. But Mary so impressed her with the honor that had been conferred uponthem by Mr. Moore's special invitation to watch the tennis game that shewas somewhat bewildered. She dutifully followed her resolute hostess tothe tennis-court, and took a seat beside her with Evangeline clasped inher arms. Neither of the children had watched a game before, and Girlie, not being able to understand a single move, soon found it insufferablystupid. But Mary became more and more interested in watching a tall, athletic figure in outing flannels and white shoes, who swung his racketwith the deftness of an expert, and who flashed an amused smile at herover the net occasionally, as if he understood the situation and wasenjoying it with her. 

Several times when Rob's playing brought him near the seat where the twochildren sat, he went into unaccountable roars of laughter, for whichthe amazed girls scolded him soundly, when he refused to explain. Onetime was when he overheard a scrap of conversation. Girlie had suggesteda return to the porch and the play-house, and Mary responded, graciously:

[Illustration: "A TALL, ATHLETIC FIGURE IN OUTING FLANNELS"]

"Oh, we did all that yesterday morning, and I think that even in thematter of playing dolls one ought to be abstemious. Don't you? Youknow Arbuthnot says that 'instances of longevity are chiefly amongthe abstemious, ' and I certainly want to be longevous. "

A startled expression crept into Girlie's pale blue eyes, but she onlysat back farther on the seat and tightened her clasp on Evangeline. Thenext time Rob sauntered within hearing distance, a discussion ofliterature was in progress, Mary was asking:

"Have you ever read 'Old Curiosity Shop?'"

The flaxen curls shook slowly in the motion that betokened she had not. 

"Nothing of Dickens or Scott or Irving or Cooper?"

Still the flaxen curls shook nothing but no. 

"Then what have you read, may I ask?" The superior tone of Mary'squestion made it seem that she was twenty years older than the child ather side, instead of only two. 

"I like the Dotty Dimple books, " finally admitted Girlie. "Mamma read meall of them and several of the Prudy books, and I have read half of'Flaxie Frizzle' my own self. "

"_Oh!_" exclaimed Mary, in a tone expressing enlightenment. "I _see_!Nothing but juvenile books! No wonder that, with such mental pabulum, you don't care for anything but dolls! Now when I was your age, I hadread 'The Vicar of Wakefield' and 'Pride and Prejudice' andLeather-stocking Tales, and all sorts of things. Probably that is why Ilost my taste for dolls so early. Wouldn't you like me to read to youawhile every morning?"

The offer was graciousness itself, but it implied such a lack onGirlie's part that she felt vaguely uncomfortable. She sat digging thetoe of her slipper against the leg of the bench. 

"I don't know, " she stammered finally. "Maybe I can't come often. Itmakes me wigglesome to sit still too long and listen. "

"We might try it this morning to see how you like it, " persisted Mary. "I brought a copy of Longfellow out from the house, and thought youmight like to hear the poem of 'Evangeline, ' as long as your doll isnamed that. "

Rob heard no more, for the game called him to another part of the court, but Mary's plan was a success. When the Dinsmore carriage came, Girlieannounced that she wouldn't be over the next day, and maybe not the oneafter that. She didn't know for sure when she could come. 

Rob stayed to lunch. As he passed Mary on the steps, he stooped to thelevel of her ear to say in a laughing undertone: "Congratulations, MissStork. I see your plan worked grandly. "

Elated by her success and the feeling of good-comradeship which thislittle secret with Rob gave her, Mary skipped up on to the porch, wellpleased with herself. But the next instant there was a curious change inher feeling. Lloyd, tall and graceful in her becoming tennis suit, wasstanding on the steps taking leave of some of the players. Withhospitable insistence she was urging them to stay to lunch, and therewas something in the sweet graciousness of the young hostess that madeMary uncomfortable. She felt that she had been weighed in the balanceand found wanting. The Princess never would have stooped to treat aguest as she had treated Girlie. Her standard of hospitality was toohigh to allow such a breach of hospitality. 

Mary had carried her point, but she felt that if Lloyd knew how she hadplayed stork, she would consider her ill-bred. The thought worried herfor days. 

CHAPTER VII. 

THE COMING OF THE BRIDE

Early in the June morning Mary awoke, feeling as if it were Christmas orFourth of July or some great gala occasion. She lay there a moment, trying to think what pleasant thing was about to happen. Then sheremembered that it was the day on which the bride was to arrive. Notonly that, --before the sun went down, the best man would be at TheLocusts also. 

She raised herself on her elbow to look at Joyce, in the white bedacross from hers. She was sound asleep, so Mary snuggled down on herpillow again, and lay quite still. If Joyce had been awake, Mary wouldhave begun a long conversation about Phil Tremont. Instead, she beganrecalling to herself the last time she had seen him. It was three yearsago, down by the beehives, and she had had no idea he was going awayuntil he came to the Wigwam to bid them all good-by. And Joyce and Lloydwere away, so he had left a message for them with her. She thought itqueer then, and she had wondered many times since why his farewell tothe girls should have been a message about the old gambling god, Alaka. She remembered every word of it, even the tones of his voice as he said:"Try to remember just these words, please, Mary. Tell them that '_Alakahas lost his precious turquoises, but he will win them back again someday_. ' Can you remember to say just that?"

He must have thought she wasn't much more than a baby to repeat it socarefully to her several times, as if he were teaching her a lesson. Well, to be sure, she was only eleven then, and she had almost criedwhen she begged him not to go away, and insisted on knowing when he wascoming back. He had looked away toward old Camelback Mountain with astrange, sorry look on his face as he answered:

"Not till I've learned your lesson--to be 'inflexible. ' When I'm strongenough to keep stiff in the face of any temptation, then I'll come back, little Vicar. " Then he had stooped and kissed her hastily on bothcheeks, and started off down the road, with her watching him through ablur of tears, because it seemed that all the good times in the worldhad suddenly come to an end. Away down the road he had turned to lookback and wave his hat, and she had caught up her white sunbonnet andswung it high by its one limp string. 

Afterward, when she went back to the swing by the beehives, she recalledall the old stories she had ever heard of knights who went out into theworld to seek their fortunes, and waved farewell to some ladye fair inher watch-tower. She felt, in a vague way, that she had been biddenfarewell by a brave knight errant. Although she was burning withcuriosity when she delivered the message about the turquoises and Alaka, and wondered why Lloyd and Joyce exchanged such meaning glances, something kept her from asking questions, and she had gone on wonderingall these years what it meant, and why there was such a sorry look inhis eyes when he gazed out toward the old Camelback Mountain. Now, inthe wisdom of her fourteen years, she began to suspect what the troublehad been, and resolved to ask Joyce for the solution of the mystery. 

Now that Phil was twenty years old and doing a man's work in the world, she supposed she ought to call him Mr. Tremont, or, at least, Mr. Phil. Probably in his travels, with all the important things that a civilengineer has to think of, he had forgotten her and the way he had rompedwith her at the Wigwam, and how he had saved her life the time theIndian chased her. Being the bridegroom's brother and best man at thewedding, he would scarcely notice her. Or, if he did cast a glance inher direction, she had grown so much probably he never would recognizeher. Still, if he _should_ remember her, she wanted to appear at herbest advantage, and she began considering what was the best her wardrobeafforded. 

She lay there some time trying to decide whether she should be all inwhite when she met him, or in the dress with the little sprigs offorget-me-nots sprinkled over it. White was appropriate for alloccasions, still the forget-me-nots would be suggestive. Then sheremembered her mother's remark about that shade of blue being a tryingone for her to wear. That recalled Mom Beck's prescription forbeautifying the complexion. Nothing, so the old colored woman declared, was so good for one's face as washing it in dew before the sun hadtouched the grass, at the same time repeating a hoodoo rhyme. Mary hadbeen intending to try it, but never could waken early enough. 

Now it was only a little after five. Slipping out of bed, she drewaside the curtain. Smoke was rising from the chimney down in theservants' quarters, and the sun was streaming red across the lawn. Butover by the side of the house, in the shadow of Hero's monument, the dewlay sparkling like diamonds on the daisies and clover that bloomedthere--the only place on the lawn where the sun had not yet touched. 

Thrusting her bare feet into the little red Turkish slippers beside herbed, Mary caught up her kimono lying over a chair. It was a long, Oriental affair, Cousin Kate's Christmas gift; a mixture of gay colorsand a pattern of Japanese fans, and so beautiful in Mary's eyes that shehad often bemoaned the fact that she was not a Japanese lady so that shecould wear the gorgeous garment in public. It seemed too beautiful to bewasted on the privacy of her room. 

Fastening it together with three of Joyce's little gold pins, she stoledown the stairway. Mom Beck was busy in the dining-room, and the doorsand windows stood open. Stepping out of one of the long French windowsthat opened on the side porch, Mary ran across to the monument. It was aglorious June morning. The myriads of roses were doubly sweet with thedew in their hearts. A Kentucky cardinal flashed across the lawn aheadof her, darting from one locust-tree to another like a bit of liveflame. 

The little red Turkish slippers chased lightly over the grass till theyreached the shadow of the monument. Then stooping, Mary passed her handsover the daisies and clover, catching up the dewdrops in her pink palms, and rubbing them over her face as she repeated Mom Beck's charm:

 "Beauty come, freckles go! Dewdops, make me white as snow!"

The dew on her face felt so cool and fresh that she tried it again, thenseveral times more. Then she stooped over farther and buried her face inthe wet grass, repeating the rhyme again with her eyes shut and in thesingsong chant in which she often intoned things, without giving heed towhat she was uttering. Suddenly, in the midst of this joyful abandon, anamused exclamation made her lift her head a little and open her eyes. 

"By all the powers! What are you up to now, Miss Stork?"

Mary's head came up out of the wet grass with a jerk. Then her faceburned an embarrassed crimson, for striding along the path toward herwas Bob Moore, cutting across lots from Oaklea. He was bareheaded, andswinging along as if it were a pleasure merely to be alive on such amorning. 

She sprang to her feet, so mortified at being caught in this secretquest for beauty that her embarrassment left her speechless. Then, remembering the way she was dressed, she sank down on the grass again, and pulled her kimono as far as possible over the little bare feet inthe red slippers. 

There was no need for her to answer his question. The rhyme she had beenchanting was sufficient explanation. 

"I thought you said, " he began, teasingly, "that you were to have _your_innings when you were a grandmother; that you didn't care for beauty nowif you could have a face like a benediction then. "

"Oh, I didn't say that I didn't care!" cried Mary, crouching closeragainst the monument, and putting her arm across her face to hide it. "It's because I care so much that I'm always doing silly things andgetting caught. I just wish the earth could open and swallow me!" shewailed. 

Her head was bowed now till it was resting on her knees. Rob looked downon the little bunch of misery in the gay kimono, thinking he had neverseen such a picture of woe. He could not help smiling, but he felt meanat having been the cause of her distress, and tried to think ofsomething comforting to say. 

"Sakes alive, child! That's nothing to feel bad about. Bathing your facein May-day dew is an old English custom that the prettiest girls in theKingdom used to follow. I ought to apologize for intruding, but I didn'tsuppose any one was up. I just came over to say that some business forgrandfather will take me to town on the earliest train, so that I can'tbe on hand when the best man arrives. I didn't want to wake up theentire household by telephoning, so I thought I'd step over and leave amessage with Alec or some of them. If you'll tell Lloyd, I'll be muchobliged. "

"All right, I'll tell her, " answered Mary, in muffled tones, withoutraising her head from her knees. She was battling back the tears, andfelt that she could never face the world again. She waited till she wassure Rob was out of sight, and then, springing up, ran for the shelterof her room. As she stole up the stairs, her eyes were so blinded withtears that she could hardly see the steps; tears of humiliation, thatRob, of all people, whose good opinion she valued, should havediscovered her in a situation that made her appear silly and vain. 

Luckily for the child's peace of mind, Betty had also wakened early thatmorning, and was taking advantage of the quiet hours before breakfast toattend to her letter-writing. Through her open door she caught sight ofthe woebegone little figure slipping past, and the next instant Maryfound herself in the white and gold room with Betty's arm around her, and her tearful face pressed against a sympathetic shoulder. Little bylittle Betty coaxed from her the cause of her tears, then sat silent, patting her hand, as she wondered what she could say to console her. 

To the older girl it seemed a matter to smile over, and the corners ofher mouth did dimple a little, until she realized that to Mary'ssupersensitive nature this was no trifle, and that she was sufferingkeenly from it. 

"Oh, I'm so ashamed, " sobbed Mary. "I never want to look Mister Rob inthe face again. I'd rather go home and miss the wedding than meet himany more. "

"Nonsense, " said Betty, lightly. "Now you're making a mountain out of amole-hill. Probably Rob will never give the matter a second thought, and he would be amazed if he thought you did. I've heard you say youwished you could be just like Lloyd. Do you know, her greatest charm tome is that she never seems to think of the impression she is making onother people. Now, if she should decide that her complexion would bebetter for a wash in the dew, she would go ahead and wash it, no matterwho caught her at it, and, first thing you know, all the Valley would befollowing her example. 

"I'm going to preach you a little sermon now, because I've found outyour one fault. It isn't very big yet, but, if you don't nip it in thebud, it will be like Meddlesome Matty's, --

 "'Which, like a cloud before the skies, Hid all her better qualities. '

"You are self-conscious, Mary. Always thinking about the impression youare making on people, and so eager to please that it makes you miserableif you think you fall short of any of their standards. I knew a girl atschool who let her sensitiveness to other people's opinions run awaywith her. She was so anxious for her friends to be pleased with her thatshe couldn't be natural. If anybody glanced in the direction of herhead, she immediately began to fix her side-combs, or if they seemed tobe noticing her dress, she felt her belt and looked down at herself tosee if anything was wrong. Half the time they were not looking at her atall, and not even giving her a thought. And I've known her to agonizefor days over some trifle, some remark she had made or some one had madeto her, that every one but her had forgotten. She developed into adreadful bore, because she never could forget herself, and was alwayslooking at her affairs through a magnifying-glass. 

"Now if you should keep out of Rob's way after this, and act as if youhad done something to be ashamed of, which you have not, don't you seethat your very actions would remind him of what you want him to forget?But if when you meet him you are your own bright, cheerful, friendlylittle self, this morning's scene will fade into a dim background. "

Only half-convinced, Mary nodded that she understood, but stillproceeded to wipe her eyes at intervals. 

"Then, there's another thing, " continued Betty. "If you sit and broodover your mortification, it will spread all over your sky like a blackcloud, till it will seem bigger than any of the good times you havehad. In the dear old garden at Warwick Hall there is a sun-dial that hasthis inscription on it, 'I only mark the hours that shine, ' So I amgoing to give you that as a text. Now, dear, that is the end of mysermon, but here is the application. "

She pointed to a row of little white books on the shelf above her desk, all bound in kid, with her initials stamped on the back in gold. "Thoseare my good-times books. 'I only mark the hours that shine' in them, andwhen things go wrong and I get discouraged over my mistakes, I glancethrough them and find that there's lots more to laugh over than cryabout, and I'm going to recommend the same course to you. Godmother gaveme the first volume when I came to the first house-party, and the littlerecord gave me so much pleasure that I've gone on adding volume aftervolume. Suppose you try it, dear. Will you, if I give you a book?"

"Yes, " answered Mary, who had heard of these books before, and longedfor a peep into them. She had her wish now, for, taking them down fromthe shelf, Betty read an extract here and there, to illustrate what shemeant. Presently, to their astonishment, they heard Mom Beck knocking atLloyd's door to awaken her, and Betty realized with a start that shehad been reading over an hour. Her letters were unanswered, but she hadaccomplished something better. Mary's tears had dried, as she listenedto these accounts of their frolics at boarding-school and theiradventures abroad, and in her interest in them her own affairs had takentheir proper proportion. She was no longer heart-broken over having beendiscovered by Rob, and she was determined to overcome the sensitivenessand self-consciousness which Betty had pointed out as her great fault. 

As she rose to go, Betty opened a drawer in her desk and took out asquare, fat diary, bound in red morocco. "One of the girls gave me thislast Christmas, " she said. "I never have used it, because I want to keepmy journals uniform in size and binding, and I'll be so glad to have youtake it and start a record of your own, if you will. "

"Oh, I'll begin this very morning!" cried Mary, in delight, throwing herarms around Betty's neck with an impulsive kiss, and trying to expressher thanks. 

"Then wait till I write my text in it, " said Betty, "so that it willalways recall my sermon. I've talked to you as if I were yourgrandmother, haven't I?"

"You've made me feel a lot more comfortable, " answered Mary, humbly, with another kiss as Betty handed her the book. On the fly-leaf she hadwritten her own name and Mary's and the inscription borne by the oldsun-dial in Warwick Hall garden:

 "_I only mark the hours that shine. _"

It was after lunch before Mary found a moment in which to begin herrecord, and then it was in unconscious imitation of Betty's style thatshe wrote the events of the morning. Probably she would not have goneinto details and copied whole conversations if she had not heard theextracts from Betty's diaries. Betty was writing for practice as well aswith the purpose of storing away pleasant memories, so it was often withthe spirit of the novelist that she made her entries. 

"It seems hopeless to go back to the beginning, " wrote Mary, "and tellall that has happened so far, so I shall begin with this morning. Soonafter breakfast we went to Rollington in the carriage, Joyce and Bettyand I on the back seat, and Lloyd in front with the coachman. And Mrs. Crisp cut down nearly a whole bushful of bridal wreath to decorateEugenia's room with. When we got back May Lily had just finished puttingup fresh curtains in the room, almost as fine and thin as frost-work. The furniture is all white, and the walls a soft, cool green, and therugs like that dark velvety moss that grows in the deepest woods. Whenwe had finished filling the vases and jardinières, the room itself allsnowy white and green made you think of a bush of bridal wreath. 

"We were barely through with that when it was time for Lloyd and AuntElizabeth to go to the station to meet Eugenia. There wasn't room forthe rest of us in the carriage, so Betty and Joyce and I hung out of thewindows and watched for them, and Betty and Joyce talked about the othertime Eugenia came, when they walked up and down under the locustswaiting for her and wondering what she would be like. When she did come, they were half-afraid of her, she was so stylish and young-ladified, andordered her maid about in such a superior way. 

"Betty said it was curious how snippy girls of that age can besometimes, and then turn out to be such fine women afterward, when theyoutgrow their snippiness and snobbishness. Then she told us a lot we hadnever heard about the school Eugenia went to in Germany to take atraining in housekeeping, and so many interesting things about her thatI was all in a quiver of curiosity to see her. 

"When we heard the carriage coming, Betty and Joyce tore down-stairs tomeet her, but I just hung farther out of the window. And, oh, but shewas pretty and stylish and tall--and just as Betty had said, _patrician_-looking, with her dusky hair and big dark eyes. She is theSpanish type of beauty. She swept into the house so grandly, with hermaid following with her satchels (the same old Eliot who was herebefore), that I thought for a moment maybe she was as stuck-up as ever. But when she saw her old room, she acted just like a happy little girl, ready to cry and laugh in the same breath because everything had beenmade so beautiful for her coming. While she was still in the midst ofadmiring everything, she sat right down on the bed and tore off hergloves, so that she could open the queer-looking parcel she carried. Ihad thought maybe it was something too valuable to put in the satchels, but it was only a new kind of egg-beater she had seen in a show-windowon her way from one depot to another. You would have thought from theway she carried on that she had found a wonderful treasure. And in themidst of showing us that she exclaimed:

"'Oh, girls, what do you think? I met the dearest old lady on thesleeper, and she gave me a receipt for a new kind of salad. That makesten kinds of salad that I know how to make. Oh, I just can't wait totell you about our little love of a house! It's all furnished andwaiting for us. Papa and I were out to look all over it the day Istarted, and everything was in place but the refrigerator, and Stuarthad already ordered one sent out. '

"Then Lloyd opened the closet door and called her attention to the greatpile of packages waiting to be opened. She flew at them and called usall to help, and for a little while Mom Beck and Eliot were kept busypicking up strings and wrapping-paper and cotton and excelsior. When wewere through, the bed and the chairs and mantel and two extra tablesthat had been brought in were piled with the most beautiful things Iever saw. I never dreamed there were such lovely things in the world assome of the beaten silver and hand-painted china and Tiffany glass. There was a jewelled fan, and all sorts of things in gold andmother-of-pearl, and there was some point lace that she said was moresuitable for a queen than a young American girl. Her father has so manywealthy friends, and they all sent presents. 

"Opening the bundles was so much fun, --like a continual surprise-party, Betty said, or a hundred Christmases rolled into one. Between times whenEugenia wasn't exclaiming over how lovely everything was, she wastelling us how the house was furnished, and what a splendid fellowStuart is, and how wild she is for us to know him. I had never heard abride talk before, and she was so _happy_ that somehow it made you feelthat getting married was the most beautiful thing in the world. 

"One of the first things she did when she opened her suit-case was totake out a picture of Stuart. It was a miniature on ivory in a locket ofVenetian gold, because it was in Venice he had proposed to her. Aftershe had shown it to us, she put it in the centre of her dressing-table, with the white flowers all around it, as if it had been some sort ofshrine. There was a look in her eyes that made me think of the picturein Betty's room of a nun laying lilies on an altar. 

"It is after luncheon now, and she has gone to her room to rest awhile. So have the other girls. But I couldn't sleep. The days are slipping bytoo fast for me to waste any time that way. "

The house was quiet when Mary closed her journal. Joyce was still asleepon the bed, and through the open door she could see Betty, tilted backin a big chair, nodding over a magazine. She concluded it would be agood time to dash off a letter to Holland, but with a foresight whichprompted her to be ready for any occasion, she decided to dress firstfor the evening. Tiptoeing around the room, she brushed her hair in thenew way Mom Beck had taught her, and, taking out her prettiest whitedress, proceeded to array herself in honor of the best man's coming. Then she rummaged in the tray of her trunk till she found her pink coralnecklace and fan-chain, and, with a sigh of satisfaction that she wasready for any emergency, seated herself at her letter-writing. 

She had written only a page, however, when the clock on the stairschimed four. The deep tones echoing through the hall sent Lloyd bouncingup from her couch, her hair falling over her shoulders and her longkimono tripping her at every step, as she ran into Joyce's room. 

"What are we going to do?" she cried in dismay. "I ovahslept myself, andnow it's foah o'clock, and Phil's train due in nine minutes. Thecarriage is at the doah and none of us dressed to go to meet him. Iwrote that the entiah bridal party would be there. "

Joyce sprang up in a dazed sort of way, and began putting on herslippers. The bridesmaids had talked so much about the grand welcome thebest man was to receive on his entrance to the Valley that, half-awakeas she was, she could not realize that it was too late to carry outtheir plans. 

"Oh, it's no use trying to get ready now, " said Lloyd, in a disappointedtone. "We couldn't dress and get to the station in time to save ou'lives. " Then her glance fell on Mary, sitting at her desk in all herbrave array of pink ribbons and corals. 

"Why, Mary can go!" she cried, in a relieved tone. "I had forgotten thatshe knows Phil as well as we do. Run on, that's a deah! Don't stop for ahat! You won't need it in the carriage. Tell him that you're the maid ofhonah on this occasion!"

It was all over so quickly, the rapid drive down the avenue, the quickdash up to the station as the train came puffing past, that Mary hadlittle time to rehearse the part she had been bidden to play. She was soafraid that Phil would not recognize her that she wondered if she oughtnot to begin by introducing herself. She pictured the scene in her mindas they rolled along, unconscious that she was smiling and bowing intoempty air, as she rehearsed the speech with which she intended toimpress him. She would be as dignified and gracious as the Princessherself; not at all like the hoydenish child of eleven who had waved hersunbonnet at him in parting three years before. 

The sight of the train as it slowed up sent a queer inward quiver ofexpectancy through her, and her cheeks were flushed with eagerness asshe leaned forward watching for him. With a nervous gesture, she put herhand up to her hair-ribbons to make sure that her bows were in place, and then clutched the coral necklace. Then Betty's sermon flashed acrossher mind, and the thought that she had done just like the self-consciousgirl at school brought a distressed pucker between her eyebrows. But thenext instant she forgot all about it. She forgot the princess-like wayin which she was to step from the carriage, the dignity with which shewas to offer Phil her hand, and the words wherewith she was to welcomehim. She had caught sight of a wide-brimmed gray hat over the heads ofthe crowd, and a face, bronzed and handsome, almost as dear in itsfamiliar outlines as Jack's or Holland's. Her carefully rehearsedactions flew to the winds, as, regardless of the strangers all about, she sprang from the carriage and ran along bareheaded in the sun. AndPhil, glancing around him for the bridal party that was to meet him, wassurprised beyond measure when this little apparition from the ArizonaWigwam caught him by the hand. 

"Bless my soul, it's the little Vicar!" he exclaimed. "Why, it's likegetting back home to see _you_! And how you've grown, and how reallycivilized you are!"

So he _had_ remembered her. He was glad to see her. With her faceglowing and her feet fairly dancing, she led him to the carriage, pouring out a flood of information as they went, about The Locusts andthe wedding and the people they passed, and how lovely everything was inthe Valley, till he said, with a twinkle in his eyes: "You're the sameenthusiastic little soul that you used to be, aren't you? I hope you'llspeak as good a word for me at The Locusts as you did at Lee's ranch. Iam taking it as a good omen that you were sent to conduct me into thishappy land. You made a success of it that other time; somehow I'm sureyou will this time. "

All the way to the house Mary sat and beamed on him as she talked, thinking how much older he looked, and yet how friendly and brotherly hestill was. She introduced him to Mrs. Sherman with a proud, grandmotherly air of proprietorship, and took a personal pride in everycomplimentary thing said about him afterward, as if she were responsiblefor his good behavior, and was pleased with the way he was "showingoff. "

Rob came over as usual in the evening. Phil was not there at first. Heand Eugenia were strolling about the grounds. Mary, sitting in a hammockon the porch, was impatient for them to come in, for she wanted to seewhat impression he would make on Rob, whom she had been thinking latelywas the nicest man she ever met. She wanted to see them together tocontrast the two, for they seemed wonderfully alike in size and generalappearance. In actions, too, Mary thought, remembering how they both hadteased her. 

She had not seen Rob since their unhappy encounter early that morning, when she had been so overcome with mortification; and if Betty had notbeen on the porch also, she would have found it hard to stay and facehim. But she wanted to show Betty that she had taken her little sermonto heart. Then, besides, the affair did not look so big, after all thathad happened during this exciting day. 

As they waited, Joyce joined them, and presently they heard Lloyd comingthrough the hall. She was singing a verse from Ingelow's "Songs ofSeven:"

 "'There is no dew left on the daisies and clover. There is no rain left in the heaven. I've said my seven times over and over-- Seven times one are seven. '"

Then she began again, "'There is no dew left on the daisies andclover--'" Rob turned to Mary. "I wonder why, " he said, meaningly. 

The red flashed up into Mary's face and she made no audible answer, butJoyce, turning suddenly, saw to her horror that Mary had made a saucyface at him and thrust out her tongue like a naughty child. 

"Why, Mary Ware!" she began, in a shocked tone, but Betty interruptedwith a laugh. "Let her alone, Joyce; he richly deserved it. He wasteasing her. "

"Betty was right, " thought Mary afterward. "It _was_ better to make funof his teasing than to run off and cry because he happened to mentionthe subject. If I had done that, he never would have said to Bettyafterward that I was the jolliest little thing that ever came over thepike. How much better this day has ended than it began. "

CHAPTER VIII. 

AT THE BEECHES

The invitation came by telephone while the family was at breakfast nextmorning. Would the house-party at The Locusts join the house-party atThe Beeches in giving a series of tableaux at their lawn fête thatnight? If so, would the house-party at The Locusts proceed immediatelyto The Beeches to spend the morning in the rehearsing of tableaux, theselection of costumes, the manufacture of paper roses, and the pleasureof each other's honorable company in the partaking of a picnic-lunchunder the trees?

There was an enthusiastic acceptance from all except Eugenia, who, tiredfrom her long journey and with many important things to attend to, begged to be left behind for a quiet day with her cousin Elizabeth. Mary, tormented by a fear that maybe she was not included in theinvitation, since she was a child, and all the guests at The Beecheswere grown, could scarcely finish her breakfast in her excitement. Butlong before the girls were ready to start, her fears were set at rest bythe arrival of Elise Walton in her pony-cart. She wanted Mary to driveto one of the neighbors with her, to borrow a bonnet and shawl overfifty years old, which were to figure in one of the tableaux. 

Elise had not been attracted by Mary's appearance the day she met her inthe restaurant and was not sure that she would care for her. It was onlyher hospitable desire to be nice to a guest in the Valley that made hercomply so willingly to her mother's request to show her some especialattention. Mary, spoiled by the companionship of the older girls for thesociety of those her own age, was afraid that Elise would be arepetition of Girlie Dinsmore; but before they had gone half a miletogether they were finding each other so vastly entertaining that by thetime they reached The Beeches they felt like old friends. 

It was Mary's first sight of the place, except the glimpse she hadcaught through the trees the morning they passed on their way toRollington. As the pony-cart rattled up the wide carriage drive whichswept around in front of the house, she felt as if she were ridingstraight into a beautiful old Southern story of ante-bellum days. Backinto the times when people had leisure to make hospitality their chiefbusiness in life, and could afford for every day to be a holiday. Whenthere were always guests under the spreading rooftree of the greathouse, and laughter and plenty in the servants' quarters. The sound of abanjo and a negro melody somewhere in the background heightened theeffect of that illusion. 

The wide front porch seemed full of people. Allison and Kitty looked upwith a word of greeting as the two girls came up, one carrying thebonnet and the other the shawl, but nobody seemed to think it necessaryto introduce Elise's little friend to the other guests. It would havebeen an embarrassing ordeal for her, for there were so many strangers. Mary recognized the two young lieutenants. 

With the help of a pretty brunette in white, whom Elise whispered wasMiss Bonham from Lexington, they were rigging up some kind of a coat ofmail for Lieutenant Logan to wear in one of the tableaux. Ranald, with ahuge sheet of cardboard and the library shears, was manufacturing a pairof giant scissors, half as long as himself, which a blonde in blue waswaiting to cover with tin foil. She was singing coon songs while shewaited, to the accompaniment of a mandolin, and in such a gay, rollicking way, that every one was keeping time either with hand orfoot. 

"That is Miss Bernice Howe, " answered Elise, in response to Mary'swhispered question. "She lives here in the Valley. And that's MalcolmMacIntyre, my cousin, who is sitting beside her. That's his brotherKeith helping Aunt Allison with the programme cards. "

Mary stared at the two young men, vaguely disappointed. They were thetwo little knights of Kentucky, but they were grown up, like all theother heroes and heroines she had looked forward to meeting. She toldherself that she might have expected it, for she knew that Malcolm wasJoyce's age; but she had associated them so long with the handsomelittle fellows in the photograph Lloyd had, clad in the knightlycostumes of King Arthur's time, that it was hard to recognize them now, in these up-to-date, American college boys, who had long ago discardedtheir knightly disguises. 

"And that, " said Elise, as another young man came out of the house witha sheet of music in his hand for Miss Howe, "is Mister Alex Shelby. Helives in Louisville, but he comes out to the Valley all the time to seeBernice. I'll tell you about them while we drive over to Mrs. Bisbee's. 

"It's this way, " she began a few moments later, as they rattled down theroad; "Bernice asked Allison if Mister Shelby couldn't be in one of thetableaux. Allison said yes, that they had intended to ask him before shespoke of it; that they had decided to ask him to be the boatman in thetableau of 'Elaine, the Lily Maid of Astolat. ' But when Bernice foundthat Lloyd had already been asked to be Elaine, she was furious. Shesaid she was just as good as engaged to him, or something of the sort, Idon't know exactly what. And she knew, if Lloyd had a chance tomonopolize him in that beautiful tableau, what it would lead to. Itwouldn't be the first time that Lloyd had quietly stepped in and takenpossession of her particular friends. She made such a fuss about it, that Allison finally said she'd change, and make Malcolm take the partof boatman, and give Alex the part they had intended for Malcolm, evenif they didn't fit as well. "

"The hateful thing!" sputtered Mary, indignantly. "I don't see how shecan insinuate such mean things about any one as sweet and beautiful asLloyd is. "

"I don't either, " agreed Elise, "but Allison says it is true thateverybody who has ever started out as a special friend of Bernice, men Imean, have ended by thinking the most of Lloyd. But everybody knows thatit is simply because she is more attractive than Bernice. As Ranald saysLloyd isn't a girl to fish for attention, and that Bernice would havemore if she didn't show the fellows that she was after them with a hook. Don't you tell Lloyd I told you all this, " warned Elise. 

"Oh, I wouldn't think of doing such a thing!" cried Mary. "It would hurther dreadfully to know that anybody talked so mean about her. I wouldn'tbe the one to repeat it, for worlds!"

Left to hold the pony while Elise went in at Mrs. Bisbee's, Mary satthinking of the snake she had discovered in her Eden. It was a rudeshock to find that every one did not admire and love the "Queen ofHearts, " who to her was without fault or flaw. All the rest of that dayand evening, she could not look in Bernice Howe's direction, without asavage desire to scratch her. Once, when she heard her address Lloyd as"dearie, " she could hardly keep from crying out, "Oh, you sly, two-facedcreature!"

Lloyd and her guests arrived on the scene while Mary was away in thepony-cart on another borrowing expedition. All of the tableaux, excepttwo, were simple in setting, requiring only the costumes that could befurnished by the chests of the neighborhood attics. But those two kepteverybody busy all morning long. One was the reproduction of a famouspainting called June, in which seven garlanded maidens in Greek costumesposed in a bewitching rose bower. Quantities of roses were needed forthe background, great masses of them that would not fade and droop; andsince previous experience had proved that artificial flowers may be usedwith fine stage effect in the glare of red foot-lights the whole placewas bursting into tissue-paper bloom. The girls cut and folded themyriad petals needed, the boys wired them, and a couple of littlepickaninnies sent out to gather foliage, piled armfuls of youngoak-leaves on the porch to twine into long conventional garlands, likethe ones in the painting. 

Agnes Waring had come over to help with the Greek costumes, and sincethe long folds of cheesecloth could be held in place by girdles, bastingthreads, and pins, the gowns were rapidly finished. 

Down by the tea-house the colored coachman sawed and pounded and planedunder Malcolm's occasional direction. He was building a barge like theone described in Tennyson's poem of the Lily Maid of Astolat. From timeto time, Lloyd, who was to personate Elaine, was called to stretchherself out on the black bier in the centre, to see if it was longenough or high enough or wide enough, before the final nails were driveninto place. 

Malcolm, with a pole in his hand, posed as the old dumb servitor who wasto row her up the river. It all looked unpromising enough in the broaddaylight; the boat with its high stiff prow made of dry goods boxes andcovered with black calico, and Lloyd stretched out on the bier in amodern shirtwaist suit with side-combs in her hair. She giggled as shemeekly crossed her hands on her breast, with a piece of newspaper foldedin one to represent the letter, and a bunch of lilac leaves in theother, which later was to clasp the lily. From under the long eyelasheslying on her cheeks, she smiled mischievously at Malcolm, who was vainlytrying to put a decrepit bend into his athletic young back, as he bentover the pole in the attitude of an old, old man. 

"Yes, it does look silly now, " admitted Miss Allison in answer to hisprotest that he felt like a fool. "But wait till you get on the longwhite beard and wig I have for you, and the black robe. You'll looklike Methuselah. And Lloyd will be covered with a cloth of gold, and herhair will be rippling down all over her shoulders like gold, too. Andwe've a real lily for the occasion, a long stalk of them. Oh, thistableau is to be the gem of the collection. "

"But half the people here won't understand it, " said Malcolm. 

"Yes, they will, for we're to have readings behind the scenes inexplanation of each one. We've engaged an amateur elocutionist for theoccasion. I'll show you just the part she'll read for this scene, soyou'll know how long you have to pose to-night. It begins with thoselines, 'And the dead, oared by the dumb, went upward with the flood. Inher right hand the lily, in her left the letter. ' Where did I put thatvolume of Tennyson?"

"Here it is, " answered Mary Ware, unexpectedly, springing up from herseat on the grass to hand her the volume. She had been watching therehearsal with wide-eyed interest. Deep down in her romance-lovinglittle soul had long been the desire to see Sir Feal the Faithful faceto face, and hear him address the Princess. The play of the "Rescue ofthe Princess Winsome" had become a real thing to her, that she felt thatit must have happened; that Malcolm really was Lloyd's true knight, andthat when they were alone together they talked like the people in books. She was disappointed when the rehearsal was over because theconversation she had imagined did not take place. 

The coachman's carpenter-work was not of the steadiest, and Lloyd laylaughing on the shaky bier because she could not rise without fear ofupsetting it. 

"Help me up, you ancient mariner, " she ordered, and when Malcolm, instead of springing forward in courtly fashion to her assistance as SirFeal should have done, playfully held out his pole for her to pullherself up by, Mary felt that something was wrong. A playful manner wasnot seemly on the part of a Sir Feal. It would have been natural enoughfor Phil or Rob to do teasing things, but she resented it when thereseemed a lack of deference on Malcolm's part toward the Princess. 

After they had gone back to the porch, Mary sat on the grass a longtime, reading the part of the poem relating to the tableau. She andHolland had committed to memory several pages of the "Idylls of theKing, " and had often run races repeating them, to see which could finishfirst. Now Mary found that she still remembered the entire page thatMiss Allison had read. She closed the book, and repeated it to herself. 

 "So that day there was dole in Astolat. 

 . . . . . . . . . 

 Then rose the dumb old servitor, and the dead, Oared by the dumb, went upward with the flood-- In her right hand the lily, in her left The letter--all her bright hair streaming down-- And all the coverlid was cloth of gold-- Drawn to her waist, and she herself in white. All but her face, and that clear-featured face Was lovely, for she did not seem as dead, But fast asleep, and lay as though she smiled. "

That was as far as Mary got with her whispered declamation, for twowhite-capped maids came out and began spreading small tables under thebeech-tree where she sat. She opened the book and began reading, becauseshe did not know what else to do. While she had been watching Lloyd inthe boat, Elise had been summoned to the house to try on the dress shewas to wear in the tableau of the gipsy fortune-teller. The people onthe porch had divided into little groups which she did not feel free tojoin. She was afraid they would think she was intruding. Even her ownsister seemed out of her reach, for she and Lieutenant Logan had takentheir share of paper roses over to a rustic seat near the croquetgrounds and were talking more busily than they were fashioning tissueflowers. 

Mary was unselfishly glad that Joyce was having attention like the othergirls and that she had been chosen for one of the Greek maidens in thetableau of June. And she wasn't really jealous of Elise because she wasto be tambourine girl in the gipsy scene, but she did wish, with alittle fluttering sigh, that she could have had some small part in itall. It was hard to be the only plain one in the midst of so many prettygirls; so plain that nobody even thought of suggesting her for one ofthe characters. 

"I know very well, " she said to herself, "that a Lily Maid of Astolatwith freckles would be ridiculous, and I'm not slim and graceful enoughto be a tambourine girl, but it would be so nice to have some part init. It would be such a comfortable feeling to know that you're prettyenough always to be counted in. "

Her musings were interrupted by the descent of the party upon the picnictables, and she looked up to see Elise beckoning her to a seat. To herdelight it was at the table opposite the one where Lloyd and Phil, AnnaMoore and Keith were seated. Malcolm was just across from them, withMiss Bonham on one side and Betty and Lieutenant Stanley on the other. Mary looked around inquiringly for her sister. She was with Rob now, andLieutenant Logan was placing chairs for Allison and himself on the otherside of the tree. Mr. Shelby and the hateful Miss Bernice Howe were overthere, too, Mary noted, glad that they were at a distance. 

Malcolm was still in a teasing mood, it seemed, for as Lloyd helpedherself in picnic fashion from a plate of fried chicken, he said, laughing, "Look at Elaine now. Tennyson wouldn't know his Lily Maid ifhe saw her in this way. " He struck an attitude, declaiming dramatically, "In her right hand the wish-bone, in her left the olive. "

"That's all right, " answered Lloyd, tossing the olive stone out on thegrass, and helping herself to a beaten biscuit. "I always did think thatElaine was a dreadful goose to go floating down the rivah to a man whodidn't care two straws about her. She'd much bettah have held on to awish-bone and an olive and stayed up in her high towah with her fathahand brothahs who appreciated her. She would have had a bettah time andhe would have had lots moah respect for her. "

"Oh, I don't think so, " cooed Miss Bonham, with a coquettish sideglance at Phil. "That always seemed such a beautifully romanticsituation to me. Doesn't it appeal to you, Mr. Tremont?"

Mary listened for Phil's answer with grave attention, for she, too, considered it a touching situation, and more than once had pictured, inpleasing day-dream, herself as Elaine, floating down a stream in thatpoetic fashion. 

"Well, no, Miss Bonham, " said Phil, laughingly. "I'm free to confessthat if I had been Sir Lancelot, I'd have liked her a great deal betterif she had been a cheerful sort of body, and had stayed alive. Then ifshe had come rowing up in a nice trig little craft, instead of thatspooky old funeral barge, and had offered me a wish-bone and an olive, I'd have thought them twice as fetching as a lily and that dolefulletter. I'd have joined her picnic in a jiffy, and probably had such ajolly time that the poem would have ended with wedding bells in the hightower instead of a funeral dirge in the palace. 

"She wasn't game, " he continued, smiling across at Mary, who waslistening with absorbing attention. "Now if she had only lived up to theVicar of Wakefield's motto--instead of mooning over Lancelot's oldshield, and embroidering things for it, and acting as if it weresomething too precious for ordinary mortals to touch--if she'd batted itinto the corner, or made mud pies on it, to show that she wasinflexible, fortune _would_ have changed in her favor. Sir Lancelotwould have had some respect for her common sense. "

Mary, who felt that the remark was addressed to her, crimsonedpainfully. Rob took up the question, and his opinion was the same asPhil's and Malcolm's. Long after the conversation passed to othertopics, Mary puzzled over the fact that the three knightliest-lookingmen she knew, the three who, she supposed, would make ideal lovers, hadlaughed at one of the most romantic situations in all poesy, and hadagreed that Elaine was silly and sentimental. Maybe, she thought withburning cheeks, maybe they would think she was just as bad if they knewhow she had admired Elaine and imagined herself in her place, andactually cried over the poor maiden who loved so fondly and so trulythat she could die of a broken heart. 

When she reflected that Lloyd, too, had agreed with them, she began tothink that her own ideals might need reconstructing. She was glad thatPhil's smile had seemed to say that he took it for granted that shewould have been inflexible to the extent of making mud pies onLancelot's shield. Unconsciously her reconstruction began then andthere, for although the seeds sown by the laughing discussion at thepicnic table lay dormant in her memory many years, they blossomed into asaving common sense at last, that enabled her to see the humorous sideof the most sentimental situation, and gave her wisdom to meet it as itdeserved. 

The outdoor tableaux that night proved to be one of the most successfulentertainments ever given in the Valley. A heavy wire, stretched fromone beech-tree to another, held the curtains that hid the impromptustage. The vine-covered tea-house and a dense clump of shrubbery formedthe background. Rows of Japanese lanterns strung from the gate to thehouse, and from pillar to pillar of the wide porches, gave a festiveappearance to the place, but they were not really needed. The full moonflooded the lawn with a silvery radiance, and as the curtains partedeach time, a flash of red lights illuminated the tableaux. 

It was like a glimpse of fairy-land to Mary, and she had the doubleenjoyment of watching the arrangement of each group behind the scenes, and then hurrying back with Elise to their chairs in the front row, just as Ranald gave the signal to burn the red lights. 

There was the usual confusion in the dressing-room, the tea-house havingbeen taken for that purpose. There was more than usual in someinstances, for while the fête had been planned for some time, thetableaux were an afterthought, and many details had been overlooked. Still, with slight delays, they moved along toward a successful finish. 

Group by group posed for its particular picture and returned to seats inthe audience to enjoy the remainder of the performance. At last onlythree people were left in the tea-house, and Miss Allison sent Keith, Rob, Phil, and Lieutenant Logan before the curtain, with instructions tosing one of the longest songs they knew and two encores, while Gibbsrepaired the prow of the funeral barge. Some one had used it for astep-ladder, and had broken it. 

Mary, waiting in the audience till the quartette had finished its firstsong, did not appear on the scene behind the curtain until Malcolm wasdressed in his black robe and long white beard and wig, and Lloyd waslaid out on the black bier. 

"Stay just as you are, " whispered Miss Allison. "It's perfect. I'mgoing out into the audience to enjoy the effect as the curtain rises. "

As she passed Miss Casey, the elocutionist, she felt some one catch hersleeve. "I've left that copy of Tennyson at the house, " she gasped. "What shall I do?"

"I'll run and get it, " volunteered Elise in a whisper, and promptlystarted off. Mary, standing back in the shadow of a tall lilac bush, clasped her hands in silent admiration of the picture. It was wonderfulhow the moonlight transformed everything. Here was the living, breathingpoem itself before her. She forgot it was Lloyd and Malcolm posing inmakeshift costumes on a calico-covered dry goods box. It seemed thebarge itself, draped all in blackest samite, going upward with theflood, that day that there was dole in Astolat. While she gazed like onein a dream, Lloyd half-opened her eyes, to peep at the old boatman. 

"I wish they'd hurry, " she said, in a low tone. "I never felt so foolishin my whole life. "

"And never looked more beautiful, " Malcolm answered, trying to getanother glimpse of her without changing his pose. 

"Sh, " she whispered back, saucily. "You forget that you are dumb. Youmustn't say a word. "

"I will, " he answered, in a loud whisper. "For even if I were reallydumb I think I should find my voice to tell you that with your hairrippling down on that cloth of gold in the moonlight, and all in white, with that lily in your hand, you look like an angel, and I'm in theseventh heaven to be here with you in this boat. "

"And with you in that white hair and beard I feel as if it were FathahTime paying me compliments, " said Lloyd, her cheeks dimpling withamusement. "Hush! It's time for me to look dead, " she warned, as theapplause followed the last encore. "Don't say anything to make me laugh. I'm trying to look as if I had died of a broken heart. "

Elise darted back just as the prompter's bell rang, and Mary, turning tofollow her to their seats in the audience, saw Miss Casey tragicallythrow up her hands, with a horrified exclamation. It was not the copy ofTennyson Elise had brought her. In her haste she had snatched up avolume of essays bound in the same blue and gold. 

"Go on!" whispered Malcolm, sternly. "Say something. At least go out andexplain the tableau in your own words. There are lots of people whowon't know what we are aiming at. "

Miss Casey only wrung her hands. "Oh, I can't! I can't!" she answered, hoarsely. "I couldn't think of a word before all those people!" As thecurtain drew slowly apart, she covered her face with her hands and sankback out of sight in the shrubbery. 

The curtain-shifter had answered the signal of the prompter's bell, which at Miss Allison's direction was to be rung immediately after thelast applause. Neither knew of the dilemma. 

A long-drawn "O-o-oh" greeted the beautiful tableau, and then there wasa silence that made Miss Allison rise half-way in her seat, to see whathad become of the interpreter. Then she sank back again, for a clear, strong voice, not Miss Casey's, took up the story. 

 "And that day there was dole in Astolat. Then rose the dumb old servitor, and the dead, Oared by the dumb, went upward with the flood. "

[Illustration: "A LONG-DRAWN 'O-O-OH' GREETED THE BEAUTIFUL TABLEAU"]

She did not know who had sprung to the rescue, but Joyce, who recognizedMary's voice, felt a thrill of pride that she was doing it so well. Itwas better than Miss Casey's rendering, for it was without anyprofessional frills and affectations; just the simple story told in thesimplest way by one who felt to the fullest the beauty of the pictureand the music of the poem. 

The red lights flared up, and again the exclamation of pleasure sweptthrough the audience, for Lloyd, lying on the black bier with her hairrippling down and the lily in her hand, might indeed have been the deadElaine, so ethereal and fair she seemed in that soft glow. Three timesthe curtains were parted, and even then the enthusiastic guests keptapplauding. 

There was a rush from the seats, and half a dozen admiring friendspushed between the curtains to offer congratulations. But before theyreached her, Lloyd had rolled off her bier to catch Mary in an impulsivehug, crying, "You were a perfect darling to save the day that way!Wasn't she, Malcolm? It was wondahful that you happened to know it!"

The next moment she had turned to Judge Moore and Alex Shelby and theladies who were with them, to explain how Mary had had the presence ofmind and the ability to throw herself into Miss Casey's place on thespur of the moment, and turn a failure into a brilliant success. Thecongratulations and compliments which she heard on every side were verysweet to Mary's ears, and when Phil came up a little later to tell herthat she was a brick and the heroine of the evening, she laughedhappily. 

"Where is the fair Elaine?" he asked next. "I see her boat is empty. Canyou tell me where she has drifted?"

"No, " answered Mary, so eager to be of service that she was ready totell all she knew. "She was here with Sir Feal till just a moment ago. "

"Sir Feal!" echoed Phil, in amazement. 

"Oh, I forgot that you don't know the Princess play. I meant MisterMalcolm. While so many people were in here congratulating us and shakinghands, I heard him say something to her in an undertone, and then hesang sort of under his breath, you know, so that nobody else but meheard him, that verse from the play:

 "'Go bid the Princess in the tower Forget all thought of sorrow. Her true love will return to her With joy on some glad morrow. '

"Then he bent over her and said still lower, 'By _my_ calendar it's theglad morrow _now_, Princess. '

"He went on just like he was in the play, you know. I suppose they haverehearsed it so much that it is sort of second nature for them to talkin that old-time way, like kings and queens used to do. "

"Maybe, " answered Phil. "Then what did _she_ say?" he demanded, frowning. 

"I don't know. She walked off toward the house with him, and that's thelast I saw of them. Why, what's the matter?"

"Oh, nothing!" he replied, with a shrug of his shoulders. "Nothing's thematter, little Vicar. _Let us keep inflexible, and fortune will at lastchange in our favor. _"

"Now whatever did he mean by that!" exclaimed Mary, as she watched himwalk away. It puzzled her all the rest of the evening that he shouldhave met her question with the family motto. 

CHAPTER IX. 

"SOMETHING BLUE"

A rainy day followed the lawn fête, such a steady pour that littlerivers ran down the window-panes, and the porches had to be abandoned. But nobody lamented the fact that they were driven indoors. Rob andJoyce began a game of chess in the library. Lloyd and Phil turned overthe music in the cabinet until they found a pile of duets which theyboth knew, and began to try them, first to the accompaniment of thepiano, then the harp. 

Mary, sitting in the hall where she could see both the chess-players andthe singers, waited in a state of bliss to be summoned to thesewing-room. Only that morning it had been discovered that there wasenough pink chiffon left, after the bridesmaids' gowns were completed, to make her a dress, and the seamstress was at work upon it now. So itwas a gay, rose-colored world to Mary this morning, despite the leadenskies and pouring rain outside. Not only was she to have a dress, thematerial for which had actually been brought from Paris, but she was tohave little pink satin slippers like the bridesmaids, and she was tohave a proud place in the wedding itself. When the bridal party camedown the stairs, it was to be her privilege to swing wide the gate ofroses for them to pass through. 

Joyce had designed the gate. It was to be a double one, swung in thearch between the hall and the drawing-room, and it would take hundredsof roses to make it, the florist said. 

In Mary's opinion the office of gate-opener was more to be desired thanthat of bridesmaid. As she sat listening to the music, curled up in abig hall chair like a contented kitten, she decided that there wasnobody in all the world with whom she would change places. There hadbeen times when she would have exchanged gladly with Joyce, thinking ofthe artist career ahead of her, or with Betty, who was sure to be afamous author some day, or with Lloyd, who seemed to have everythingthat heart could wish, or with Eugenia with all her lovely presents andtrousseau and the new home on the Hudson waiting for her. But just nowshe was so happy that she wouldn't even have stepped into a fairy-tale. 

Presently, through the dripping window-panes, she saw Alec plodding upthe avenue under an umbrella, his pockets bulging with mail packages, papers, and letters. Betty, at her window up-stairs, saw him also, andcame running down the steps, followed by Eugenia. The old Colonel, hearing the call, "The mail's here, " opened the door of his den, andjoined the group in the hall where Betty proceeded to sort out theletters. A registered package from Stuart was the first thing thatEugenia tore open, and the others looked up from their letters at herpleased exclamation:

"Oh, it's the charms for the bride's cake!"

"Ornaments for the top?" asked Rob, as she lifted the layer ofjeweller's cotton and disclosed a small gold thimble, and a narrowwedding-ring. 

"No! Who ever heard of such a thing!" she laughed. "Haven't you heard ofthe traditional charms that must be baked in a bride's cake? It is atoken of the fate one may expect who finds it in his slice of cake. Eliot taught me the old rhyme:

 "'Four tokens must the bridescake hold: A silver shilling and a ring of gold, A crystal charm good luck to symbol, And for the spinster's hand a thimble. '

"Eliot firmly believes that the tokens are a prophecy, for years ago, ather cousin's wedding in England, she got the spinster's thimble. Thegirl who found the ring was married within the year, and the one whofound the shilling shortly came into an inheritance. True, it didn'tamount to much, --about five pounds, --but the coincidence firmlyconvinced Eliot of the truth of the superstition. In this country peopleusually take a dime instead of a shilling, but I told Stuart that Iwanted to follow the custom strictly to the letter. And look what a dearhe is! Here is a _bona fide_ English shilling, that he took the troubleto get for me. "

Phil took up the bit of silver she had placed beside the thimble and thering, and looked it over critically. "Well, I'll declare!" he exclaimed. "That was Aunt Patricia's old shilling! I'd swear to it. See the way thehole is punched, just between those two ugly old heads? And I rememberthe dent just below the date. Looks as if some one had tried to bite it. Aunt Patricia used to keep it in her treasure-box with her gold beadsand other keepsakes. "

The old Colonel, who had once had a fad for collecting coins, and owneda large assortment, held out his hand for it. Adjusting his glasses, heexamined it carefully. "Ah! Most interesting, " he observed. "Coined inthe reign of 'Bloody Mary, ' and bearing the heads of Queen Mary and KingPhilip. You remember this shilling is mentioned in Butler's 'Hudibras:'

 "'Still amorous and fond and billing, Like Philip and Mary on a shilling. '

"You couldn't have a more appropriate token for your cake, my dear, " hesaid to Eugenia with a smile. Then he laid it on the table, and takingup his papers, passed back into his den. 

"That's the first time I ever heard my name in a poem, " said Phil. "Byrights I ought to draw that shilling in my share of cake. If I do Ishall take it as a sign that history is going to repeat itself, andshall look around for a ladye-love named Mary. Now I know a dozen songswith that name, and such things always come in handy when 'a frog hewould a-wooing go, ' There's 'My Highland Mary' and 'Mary of Argyle, 'and 'Mistress Mary, quite contrary, ' and 'Mary, call the cattle home, across the sands of Dee!'"

As he rattled thoughtlessly on, nothing was farther from his thoughtsthan the self-conscious little Mary just behind him. Nobody saw her facegrow red, however, for Lloyd's exclamation over the last token madeevery one crowd around her to see. 

It was a small heart-shaped charm of crystal, probably intended for awatch-fob. There was a four-leaf clover, somehow mysteriously imbeddedin the centre. 

"That ought to be doubly lucky, " said Eugenia. "Oh, _what_ a dear Stuartwas to take so much trouble to get the very nicest things. They couldn'tbe more suitable. "

"Eugenia, " asked Betty, "have you thought of that other rhyme thatbrides always consider? You know you should wear

 "'Something old, something new, Something borrowed, something blue. '"

"Yes, Eliot insisted on that, too. The whole outfit will, itself, besomething new, the lace that was on my mother's wedding-gown will be thesomething old. I thought I'd borrow a hairpin apiece from you girls, and I haven't decided yet about the something blue. "

"No, " objected Lloyd. "The borrowed articles ought to be somethingreally valuable. Let me lend you my little pearl clasps to fasten yourveil, and then for the something blue, there is your turquoisebutterfly. You can slip it on somewhere, undah the folds of lace. "

"What a lot of fol-de-rol there is about a wedding, " said Rob. "As if itmade a particle of difference whether you wear pink or green! _Why_ mustit be blue?"

There was an indignant protest from all the girls, and Rob made hisescape to the library, calling to Joyce to come and finish the game ofchess. 

That evening, Mary, sitting on the floor of the library in front of thePoets' Corner, took down volume after volume to scan its index. She waslooking for the songs Phil had mentioned, which contained her name. Atthe same time she also kept watch for the name of Philip. She rememberedshe had read some lines one time about "Philip my King. "

As she pored over the poems in the dim light, for only the shaded lampon the central table was burning, she heard steps on the porch outside. The rain had stopped early in the afternoon, and the porches had driedso that the hammocks and chairs could be put out again. Now voicessounded just outside the window where she sat, and the creaking of ascrew in the post told that some one was sitting in the hammock. Evidently it was Lloyd, for Phil's voice sounded nearer the window. Hehad seated himself in the armchair that always stood in that niche, andwas tuning a guitar. As soon as it was keyed up to his satisfaction, hebegan thrumming on it, a sort of running accompaniment to theirconversation. 

It did not occur to Mary that she was eavesdropping, for they weretalking of impersonal things, just the trifles of the hour; and shecaught only a word now and then as she scanned the story of Enoch Arden. The name Philip, in it, had arrested her attention. 

"I think the maid of honor ought to wear something blue as well as thebride, " remarked Phil. 

"_Why?_" asked Lloyd. 

There was such a long pause that Mary looked up, wondering why he didnot answer. 

"_Why?_" asked Lloyd again. 

Phil thrummed on a moment longer, and then began playing in a soft minorkey, and his answer, when it finally came, seemed at first to have noconnection with what he had been talking about. 

"Do you remember when we were in Arizona, the picnic we had atHole-in-the-rock, and the story that that old Norwegian told aboutAlaka, the gambling god, who lost his string of precious turquoises andeven his eyes?"

"Yes. "

Mary looked up from her book, listening alertly. The mystery of yearswas about to be explained. 

"Well, do you remember a conversation you had with Joyce about itafterward, in which you called the turquoise the 'friendship stone, 'because it was true blue? And you said it was a pity that some peopleyou knew, not a thousand miles away, couldn't go to the School of theBees, and learn that line from Watts about Satan finding mischief foridle hands to do. And Joyce said yes, it was too bad for a fine fellowto get into trouble just because he was a drone, and had no ambition tomake anything of himself; that if Alaka had gone to the School of theBees he wouldn't have lost his eyes. And then you said that if somebodykept on he would at least lose his turquoises. Do you remember allthat?"

The screw in the post stopped creaking as Lloyd sat straight up in thehammock to exclaim in astonishment: "Yes, I remembah, but how undah thesun, Phil Tremont, do _you_ happen to know anything about thatconvahsation? You were not there. "

"No, but little Mary Ware was. She didn't have the faintest idea thatyou meant me, and that Sunday morning when I called at the Wigwam forthe last time to make my apologies and farewells, and you were notthere, she told me all about it like the blessed little chatterbox thatshe was. Then, when I saw plainly that I had forfeited my right to yourfriendship, I did not wait to say good-by, just left a message for youwith Mary. I knew she would attempt to deliver it, but I have wonderedmany times since if she gave it in the words I told her. Of course Icouldn't expect you to remember the exact words after all this time. "

"But it happens that I do, " answered Lloyd. "She said, 'Alaka has losthis precious turquoises, but he will win them back again some day. '"

"Did you understand what I meant, Lloyd?"

"Well, I--I guessed at yoah meaning. "

"Mary unwittingly did me a good turn that morning. She was an angelunawares, for she showed me myself as you saw me, a drone in the hive, with no ambition, and the gambling fever in my veins making a fool ofme. I went away vowing I would win back your respect and make myselfworthy of your friendship, and I can say honestly that I have kept thatvow. Soon after, while I was out on that first surveying trip I cameacross some unset stones for a mere song. This little turquoise wasamong them. " He took the tiny stone from his pocket and held it out onhis palm, so that the light streaming out from the library fell acrossit. 

"I have carried it ever since. Many a time it has reminded me of you andyour good opinion I was trying to win back. I've had lots of temptationsto buck against, and there have been times when they almost downed me, but I say it in all humility, Lloyd, this little bit of turquoise keptme 'true blue, ' and I've lived straight enough to ask you to take itnow, in token that you do think me worthy of your friendship. When Iheard Eugenia talking about wearing something blue at the wedding, I hada fancy that it would be an appropriate thing for the maid of honor todo, too. "

Lloyd took the little stone he offered, and held it up to the light. 

"It certainly is true blue, " she said, with a smile, "and I'm suah youare too, now. I didn't need this to tell me how well you've been doingsince you left Arizona. We've heard a great deal about yoah successesfrom Cousin Carl. "

"Then let me have it set in a ring for you, " he added. "There will beplenty of time before the wedding. "

"No, " she answered, hastily. "I couldn't do that. Papa Jack wouldn'tlike it. He wouldn't allow me to accept anything from a man in the wayof jewelry, you know. I couldn't take it as a ring. Now just this littleunset stone"--she hesitated. "Just this bit of a turquoise that you saycost only a trifle, I'm suah he wouldn't mind that. I'll tell him it'sjust my friendship stone. "

"What a particular little maid of honor you are!" he exclaimed. "Howmany girls of seventeen do you know who would take the trouble to go totheir fathers with a trifle like that, and make a careful explanationabout it? Besides, you can't tell him that it is _only_ a friendshipstone. I want it to mean more than that to you, Lloyd. I want it tostand for a great deal more between us. Don't you see how I care--how Imust have cared all this time, to let the thought of you make such adifference in my life?"

There was no mistaking the deep tenderness of his voice or theearnestness of his question. Lloyd felt the blood surge up in her faceand her heart throbbed so fast she could hear it beat. But she hastilythrust back the proffered turquoise, saying, in confusion:

"Then I can't wear it! Take it back, please; I promised Papa Jack--"

"Promised him what?" asked Phil, as she hesitated. 

"Well, it's rathah hard to explain, " she began in much confusion, "unless you knew the story of 'The Three Weavahs. ' Then you'dundahstand. "

"But I don't know it, and I'd rather like an explanation of some kind. Ithink you'll have to make it clear to me why you can't accept it, andwhat it was you promised your father. "

"Oh, I can't tell it to make it sound like anything, " she began, desperately. "It was like this. No, I can't tell it. Come in the house, and I'll get the book and let you read it for yoahself!"

"No, I'd rather hear the reason from your own lips. Besides, some onewould interrupt us in there, and I want to understand where I'm 'at'before that happens. "

"Well, " she began again, "it is a story Mrs. Walton told us once whenour Shadow Club was in disgrace, because one of the girls eloped, and wewere all in such trouble about it that we vowed we'd be old maids. Afterward it was the cause of our forming another club that we calledthe 'Ordah of Hildegarde. ' I'll give you a sawt of an outline now, ifyou'll promise to read the entiah thing aftahward. "

"I'll promise, " agreed Phil. 

"Then, this is it. Once there were three maidens, of whom it was writtenin the stahs that each was to wed a prince, provided she could weave amantle that should fit his royal shouldahs as the falcon's feathahs fitthe falcon. Each had a mirror beside her loom like the Lady of Shalott'sin which the shadows of the world appeahed. 

"One maiden wove in secret, and falling in love with a page who dailypassed her mirror, imagined him to be a prince, and wove her web to fithis unworthy shouldahs. Of co'se when the real prince came it was toosmall, and so she missed the happiness that was written for her in thestahs. 

"The second squandahed her warp of gold first on one, then anothah, weaving mantles for any one who happened to take her fancy--a shepherdboy and a troubador, a student and a knight. When her prince rode byshe had nothing left to offah him, so she missed _her_ life's happiness. 

"But the third had a deah old fathah like Papa Jack, and he gave her asilvah yahdstick on which was marked the inches and ells that a trueprince ought to be. And he warned her like this:

"'Many youths will come to thee, each begging, "Give _me_ the royalmantle, Hildegarde. _I_ am the prince the stahs have destined for thee. "And with honeyed words he'll show thee how the mantle in the loom isjust the length to fit his shouldahs. But let him not persuade thee tocut it loose and give it to him as thy young fingahs will be fain to do. Weave on anothah yeah and yet anothah, till thou, a woman grown, canmeasuah out a perfect web, moah ample than these stripling youths couldcarry, but which will fit thy prince in faultlessness, as the falcon'sfeathahs fit the falcon. '

"Then Hildegarde took the silvah yahdstick and said, 'You may trust me, fathah. I will not cut the golden warp from out the loom, until I, awoman grown, have woven such a web as thou thyself shalt say is worthyof a prince's wearing. ' (That's what I promised Papa Jack. )

"Of co'se it turned out, that one day with her fathah's blessing lightupon her, she rode away beside the prince, and evah aftah all her lifewas crowned with happiness, as it had been written for her in thestahs. "

There was a long pause when she finished, so long that the silence beganto grow painful. Then Phil said, slowly:

"I understand now. Would you mind telling me what the measure was yourfather gave you that your prince must be?"

"There were three notches. He must be clean and honahable and strong. "

There was another long pause before Phil said, "Well, I wouldn't bemeasuring up to that second notch if I asked you to break your promiseto your father, and you wouldn't do it even if I did. So there's nothingmore for me to say at present. But I'll ask this much. You'll keep theturquoise if we count it merely a friendship stone, won't you?"

"Yes, I'll be glad to do that. And I'll weah it at the wedding if youwant me to, as my bit of something blue. I'll slip it down into myglove. "

"Thank you, " he answered, then added, after a pause: "And I supposethere's another thing. That yardstick keeps all the other fellows at adistance, too. That's something to be cheerful over. But you mark mywords--I'm doing a bit of prophesying now--when your real prince comesyou'll know him by this: he'll come singing this song. Listen. "

Picking up his guitar again, he struck one full deep chord and begansinging softly the "Bedouin Love-song, " "From the desert I come tothee. " The refrain floated tremulously through the library window. 

 "Till the stars are old, And the sun grows cold, And the leaves of the judgment Book unfold. "

It brought back the whole moonlighted desert to Lloyd, with the odor oforange-blossoms wafted across it, as it had been on two eventfuloccasions they rode over it together. She sat quite still in thehammock, with the bit of turquoise clasped tight in her hand. It washard to listen to such a beautiful voice unmoved. It thrilled her as nosong had ever done before. 

As it floated into the library, it thrilled Mary also, but in adifferent way; for with a guilty start she realized that she had beenlistening to something not meant for her to hear. 

"Oh, what have I done! What have I done!" she whispered to herself, dropping the book and noiselessly wringing her hands. She could hearvoices on the stairs now. Eugenia and Betty were coming down, and Rob'swhistle down the avenue told that he was on his way to join them. Tooashamed to face any one just then, and afraid that her guilty face wouldbetray the fact to Phil and Lloyd that she shared their secret, shehurried out of the library and up to her room, where Joyce wasrearranging her hair. In response to Joyce's question about her comingup so early in the evening, she said she had thought of something shewanted to write in her journal. But when Joyce had gone down she did notbegin writing immediately. Turning down the lamp until the room wasalmost in darkness, she sat with her elbows on the window-sill staringout into the night. 

"I never _meant_ to do it!" she kept explaining to her conscience. "Itjust did itself. It seemed all right to listen at first, when they weretalking about things I had a right to know, and then I got sointerested, it was like reading a story, and I couldn't go away becauseI forgot there was such a person living as _me_. But Lloyd mightn'tunderstand how it was. She'd scorn to be an eavesdropper herself, andshe'd scorn and despise me if she knew that I just sat there like agraven image and listened to Phil the same as propose to her. "

Hitherto Mary had looked upon Malcolm as Lloyd's especial knight, andhad planned to be his valiant champion should need for her services everarise. But this put matters in a different light. All her sympathieswere enlisted in Phil's behalf now. She liked Phil the best, and shewanted him to have whatever he wanted. He had called her his "angelunawares, " and she wished she could do something to further deserve thattitle. Then she began supposing things. 

Suppose she should come tripping down the stairs some day (this would besometime in the future, of course, when Lloyd's promise to her fatherwas no longer binding) and should find Phil pacing the room withimpatient strides because the maid of honor had gone off with Sir Fealto the opera or somewhere, in preference to him, on account of somemisunderstanding. "The little rift within the lute" would be making thebest man's music mute, and now would be her time to play angel unawaresagain. 

She would trip in lightly, humming a song perhaps, and finding him moodyand downcast, would begin the conversation with some appropriatequotation. In looking through the dictionary the day before, her eye hadcaught one from Shakespeare, which she had stored away in her memory touse on some future occasion. Yes, that one would be very appropriate tobegin the conversation. She would go up to him and say, archly:

 "My lord leans wondrously to discontent. His comfortable temper has forsook him. "

With that a smile would flit across his stern features, and presently hewould be moved to confide in her, and she would encourage him. Then, shedidn't know yet exactly in what way it could come about, she would dosomething to bring the two together again, and wipe out the bittermisunderstanding. 

It was a very pleasing dream. That and others like it kept her sittingby the window till nearly bedtime. Then, just before the girls cameup-stairs, she turned up the lamp and made an entry in her journal. Withthe fear that some prying eye might some day see that page, she omittedall names, using only initials. It would have puzzled the Sphinx herselfto have deciphered that entry, unless she had guessed that the initialsstood for titles instead of names. The last paragraph concluded: "It nowlies between Sir F. And the B. M. , but I think it will be the B. M. Whowill get the mantle, for Sir F. And his brother have gone away on ayachting trip. The M. Of H. Does not know that I know, and the secretweighs heavy on my mind. "

She was in bed when the girls came up, but the door into the next roomstood open and she heard Betty say, "Oh, we forgot to give you AlexShelby's message, Lloyd. Joyce and I met him on our way to thepost-office. He was walking with Bernice. He sent his greetings to thefair Elaine. He fairly raved over the way you looked in that moonlighttableau. "

"It was evident that Bernice didn't enjoy his raptures very much, " addedJoyce. "Her face showed that she was not only bored, but displeased. "

"I can imagine it, " said Lloyd. "Really, girls, I think this is aserious case with Bernice. She seems to think moah of Mistah Shelby thanany one who has evah gone to see her, and she is old enough now to haveit mean something. She's neahly twenty, you know. I do hope he thinks asmuch of her as she does of him. "

"There!" whispered Mary to herself, nodding wisely in the darkness ofher room, as if to an unseen listener. "I knew it! I told you so! Allthe king's horses and all the king's men couldn't make me believe she'dstoop to such a thing as that nasty Bernice Howe insinuated. She's amaid of honor in every way!"

CHAPTER X. 

"A COON HUNT"

The morning after the arrival of the rest of the bridal party, Betty wasout of bed at the first sound of any one stirring in the servants'quarters. She and Lloyd had given up their rooms to the new guests, andmoved back into the sewing-room together. Now in order not to awakenLloyd she tiptoed out to the little vine-covered balcony, through thewindow that opened into it from the sewing-room. She was in hernightgown, for she could not wait to dress, when she was so eager tofind out what kind of a day Eugenia was to have for her wedding. 

Not a cloud was in sight. It was as perfect as only a June morning canbe, in Kentucky. The fresh smell of dewy roses and new-mown grassmingled with the pungent smoke of the wood fire, just beginning to curlup in blue rings from the kitchen chimney. Soft twitterings and jubilantbird-calls followed the flash of wings from tree to tree. She peepedout between the thick mass of wistaria vines, across the grassy court, formed by the two rear wings of the house, to another balcony oppositethe one in which she stood. It opened off Eugenia's room, and was almosthidden by a climbing rose, which made a perfect bride's bower, with itsgorgeous full-blown Gloire Dijon roses. 

Stray rhymes and words suggestive of music and color and the morning'sglory began to flit through her mind as she stood there, as if a littlepoem were about to start to life with a happy fluttering of wings; amadrigal of June. But in a few moments she slipped back into the housethrough the window, put on her kimono and slippers, and gathering up herjournal in one hand and pen and ink with the other, she stole back tothe balcony again. The seamstress had left her sewing-chair out therethe afternoon she finished Mary's dress, and it still stood there, withthe lap-board beside it. Taking the board on her knees, and opening herjournal upon it, Betty perched her ink-bottle on the balcony railing andbegan to write. She knew there would be no time later in the day for herto bring her record up-to-date, and she did not want to let thehappenings pile up unrecorded. She was afraid she might leave outsomething she wanted to include, and she had found that the trivialconversations and the trifles she noted were often the things whichrecalled a scene most vividly, and almost made it seem to live again. She began her narrative just where she had left off, so that it made acontinuous story. 

"We didn't settle down to anything yesterday morning. Phil went to townwith Papa Jack directly after breakfast, and we girls just strolled upand down the avenue and talked. It was delightfully cool under thelocusts, and we knew it would be our last morning with Eugenia; thatafter the arrival of the rest of the bridal party, everything would bein confusion until after the wedding, and then she would never beEugenia Forbes again. She would be Mrs. Stuart Tremont. 

"She told us that her being married wouldn't make any difference, thatshe'd always be the same to us. But it's bound to make a difference. Amarried woman can't be interested in the same things that young girlsare. Her husband is bound to come first in her consideration. 

"Joyce asked her if it didn't make her feel queer to know that herwedding-day was coming closer and closer, and quoted that line from 'TheSiege of Lucknow, '--'_Day by day the Bengal tiger nearer drew andcloser crept_. ' She said she'd have a fit if she knew her wedding-daywas creeping up on her that way. Eugenia was horrified to have her talkthat way, and said that it was because she didn't know Stuart, anddidn't know what it meant to care enough for a man to be glad to joinher life to his, forever and ever. There was such a light in her eyes asshe talked about him, that we didn't say anything more for awhile, justwondered how it must feel to be so supremely happy as she is. There isno doubt about it, he is certainly the one written for her in the stars, for he measures up to every ideal of hers, as faultlessly 'as thefalcon's feathers fit the falcon. '

"We had heard so much from her and Phil about Doctor Miles Bradford, Stuart's friend who is coming with him to be one of the ushers, that wedreaded meeting him. When she told us that he is from Boston and belongsto one of its most exclusive families, and is very conventional, andtwenty-five years old, Joyce nicknamed him 'The Pilgrim Father, ' andvowed she wouldn't have him for her attendant; that I had to take himand let her walk in with Rob. She said she'd shock him with her wildwest slang and uncivilized ways, and that I was the literary lady ofthe establishment, and would know how to entertain such a personage. 

"I was just as much afraid of him as she was, and wanted Rob myself, sowe squabbled over it all the way up and down the avenue. We were walkingfive abreast, swinging hands. When we got to the gate we saw some onecoming up the road, and we all stood in a row, peeping out between thebars till we saw that it was Rob himself. Then Joyce said that we wouldmake him decide the matter--that we'd all put our hands through the barsas if we had something in them, and make him choose which he'd take, right or left. If he said right, I could have him for my attendant andshe'd take Doctor Bradford, but if he said left I'd have to put up withthe Pilgrim Father, and she'd take Rob. 

[Illustration: "'ALL YOU GIRLS STANDING WITH YOUR HANDS STUCK THROUGHTHE BARS'"]

"He came along bareheaded, swinging his hat in his hand, and we were sobusy explaining to him that he was to choose which hand he'd take, rightor left, that we did not notice that he had a kodak hidden behind hishat. He held it up in front of him, and bowed and scraped and did allsorts of ridiculous things to keep us from noticing what he was doing, till all of a sudden we heard the shutter click and he gave a whoop andsaid, 'There! That will be one of the best pictures in my collection. All you girls standing with your hands stuck through the bars, likemonkeys at the Zoo, begging for peanuts. I don't know whether to call it"Behind the Bars, " or "Don't Feed the Animals. "'

"Then Lloyd said he shouldn't come in for making such a speech, and hesat down on the grass and began to sing in a ridiculous way, the oldsong that goes:

 "'Oh, angel, sweet angel, I pray thee Set the beautiful gates ajar. '

"He was off the key, as he usually is when he sings without anaccompaniment, and it was so funny, such a howl of a song, that welaughed till the tears came. Then he said he'd name the picture 'At theGate of Paradise, ' and make a foot-note to the effect that she was aPeri, if she'd let him in. 

"After awhile she said she'd let him in to Paradise if he could name onegood deed he'd ever done that had benefited human kind. He saidcertainly he could, and that he wouldn't have to dig it up from the deadpast. He could give it to her hot from the griddle, for only ten minutesbefore he had completed arrangements for the evening's entertainment ofthe bridal party. 

"Lloyd opened the gate in a hurry then, and fairly begged him to comein, for we had been wild all week to know what godmother had decidedupon. She only laughed when we teased her to tell us, and said we'd see. We were sure it would be something very elegant and formal. Maybe a realgrown-up affair, with an orchestra from town and distinguished strangersto meet the three fathers, Eugenia's, Stuart's and the Pilgrim F. 

"We couldn't believe Rob when he told us that we were to go on a _coonhunt_, and went racing up to the house to ask godmother herself. 

"And she said yes, she was sure they would enjoy a glimpse of realcountry Southern life, and some of our informal fun, far more than thefunctions they could attend any time in the East. Besides she wantedeverybody to keep in mind that we were still little schoolgirls, even ifwe were to be bridesmaids, and that was why she was taking us all off tothe woods for an old-time country frolic, instead of having a granddinner or a formal dance. 

"Then Rob asked us if we didn't want to beg his pardon for doubting hisword, but Lloyd told him no, that

 "'The truth itself is not believed From one who often has deceived. '

"Then we tried to make him choose which he'd have, right or left, andheld out our hands again, but he said he knew that some great questionof choice was being involved, and that he would not assume theresponsibility. That we'd have to draw straws, if we wanted to decideanything. So Eugenia held two blades of grass between her palms, andJoyce drew the longest one. I couldn't help groaning, for that meantthat the Pilgrim Father must fall to my lot. 

"But it didn't seem so bad after I met him. They all came out on thethree o'clock train with Phil. When the carriage came up from thestation we had a grand jubilee. Cousin Carl seemed so glad to get backto the Valley, but no gladder than everybody was to see him. Stuart isso much like Phil that we felt as if we were already acquainted withhim. He is very boyish-looking and young, but there is something sodignified and gentle in his manner that one feels he is cut out to be astaid old family physician, and that in time he will grow into the loveand confidence of his patients like Maclaren's Doctor of the Old School. But dear old Doctor Tremont is the flower of _that_ family. We all fellin love with him the moment we saw him. It is easy to see what he hasbeen to his boys. The very tone in which they call him 'Daddy' showshow they adore him; and he is so sweet and tender with Eugenia. 

"Contrasted with him and Cousin Carl, I must say that the Pilgrim Fatheris not a suitable name for Doctor Bradford. Really, with his smoothshaven face, and clear ruddy complexion like an Englishman's, he doesn'tseem much older than Malcolm. Still his dignity is rather awe-full, andhis grave manner and Boston accent make him seem sort of foreign, sodifferent from the boys whom we have always known. We were afraid atfirst that godmother had made a great mistake in planning to take him ona coon hunt. But it turned out that she was right, as she always is. Hetold us afterward he had never enjoyed anything so much in all his life. 

"It was just eight o'clock when we set out on the hunt last night. A bighay-wagon drove up to the door with the party from The Beeches alreadystowed away in it, sitting flat on the hay in the bottom. Mrs. Waltonwas with them, and Miss Allison and Katie Mallard and her father, andseveral others they had picked up on the way. 

"While they were laughing and talking and everybody was beingintroduced, Alec came driving up from the barn with another big wagon, and we all piled into it except Lloyd and Rob, Joyce and Phil. Theywere on horseback and kept alongside of us as outriders. The moon hadn'tcome up, but the starlight was so bright that the road gleamed like awhite ribbon ahead of us, and we sang most of the way to the woods. 

"Old Unc' Jefferson led the procession on his white mule, with threelanky coon dogs following. They struck the trail before we reached ourstopping-place, and went dashing off into the woods. Unc' Jeffersonfairly rolled off his old mule, and threw the rope bridle over the firstfence-post, and went crashing through the underbrush after them. Thewagons kept on a few rods farther and landed us on the creek bank, up bythe black bridge. 

"It seemed as if the whole itinerary of the hunt had been planned forour especial benefit, for just as we reached the creek the moon began toroll up through the trees like a great golden mill-wheel, and we couldsee our way about in the woods. Evidently the coon's home was in somehollow near our stopping-place, for instead of staying in the densebeech woods, up where it would have been hard for us to climb, the firstdash of the dogs sent him scurrying toward the row of big sycamores thatoverhang the creek. 

"It whizzed by us so fast that at first we did not know what had passedus till the dogs came tumbling after at breakneck speed. They were suchold hands at the game that they gave their quarry a bad time of it forawhile, turning and doubling on his tracks till we were almost asexcited and bewildered as the poor coon. Little Mary Ware just stood andwrung her hands, and once when the dogs were almost on him she teeteredup and down on her tiptoes and squealed. 

"All of a sudden the coon dodged to one side and disappeared. We thoughthe had escaped, but a little later on we heard the dogs bayingfrantically farther down the creek, and Rob shouted that they had treedhim, and for everybody to hurry up if they wanted to be in at the death. So away we went, helter-skelter, in a wild race down the creek bank, godmother, Papa Jack, Cousin Carl, and everybody. It was a roughscramble, and as we pitched over rolling stones, and caught at bushes topull ourselves up, and swung down holding on to the saplings, I wonderedwhat Doctor Bradford would think of our tomboy ways. 

"Nobody waited to be helped. It was every fellow for himself, we were insuch a hurry to get to the coon. Lloyd kept far in the lead, ahead ofeverybody, and Joyce walked straight up a steep bank as if she had beena fly. When we got to the tree where the dogs were howling and baying wehad to look a long time before we could see the coon. Then all we coulddistinguish was the shine of its eyeballs, for it crouched so flatagainst the limb that it seemed a part of the bark. It was away out onthe tip-end of one of the highest branches. 

"The only way to get it was to shake it down, and to our surprise, before we knew who had volunteered, we saw Doctor Bradford, in hisimmaculate white flannels, throw off his coat and go shinning up thetree like an acrobat in a circus. He had to shake and shake the limbbefore he could dislodge the coon, but at last it let go, and the dogshad it before it fairly touched the ground. We girls didn't wait to seewhat they did with it, but stuck our fingers in our ears and tore backto the wagons. Rob made fun of Lloyd when she said she didn't see whythey couldn't have coon hunts without coon killings, and that they oughtto have made the dogs let go. They had had the fun of catching it, andthey ought to be satisfied with that. 

"Joyce whispered to me that the hunt had had one desirable result. Ithad limbered up the Pilgrim Father so thoroughly, that he couldn't bestiff and dignified again after his acrobatic feat. It really did makea difference, for after that he was one of the jolliest men in theparty. 

"As it was out of season and old Unc' Jefferson didn't care for thecoons, he called off the dogs after they had caught one, to show us whatthe sport was like, and then he built us a grand camp-fire on the creekbank, and we had what Mrs. Walton called the sequel. She and MissAllison and godmother made coffee and unpacked the hampers we hadbrought with us. There was beaten biscuit and fried chicken and icedwatermelon, and all sorts of good things. As we ate, the moon came uphigher and higher, and silvered the white trunks of the sycamores tillthey looked like a row of ghosts standing with outstretched arms alongthe creek. It was so lovely there above the water. All the sweet woodsysmells of fern and mint and fallen leaves seem stronger after nightfall. Everybody enjoyed the feast so much, and was in such high spirits thatwe all felt a shade of regret that it had to come to an end so soon. 

[Illustration: "'THEY STEPPED IN AND ROWED OFF DOWN THE SHININGWATERWAY'"]

"There were two boats down by the bridge which we found that Rob had hadsent over that morning for the occasion. They had brought the oars overin the wagon. Pretty soon we saw Eugenia and Stuart going down towardone of them, a little white canvas one, and they stepped in and rowedoff down the shining waterway. It was only a narrow creek, but themoonlight seemed to glorify it, and we knew that it made them think ofthat boat-ride that had been the beginning of their happiness, infar-away Venice. 

"The other boat was larger. Allison and Miss Bonham, Phil and LieutenantStanley went out in that. The music of their singing, as it floated backto us, was so beautiful, that those of us on the bank stopped talking tolisten. When they came back presently, Kitty and Joyce, Rob andLieutenant Logan pushed out in it for awhile. They sang too. 

"When the little boat came back, Doctor Bradford asked Lloyd to go outwith him, and she said she would as soon as she had given her chatelainewatch to her father to keep for her. The clasp kept coming unfastenedand she was afraid she would lose it. "

Here Betty laid down her pen a moment and sat peering dreamily outbetween the vines. She was about to record a little conversation she hadoverheard between Lloyd and her father as they stood a moment in thebushes behind her, but paused as she reflected that it would be likebetraying a confidence to make an entry of it in her journal. It wouldbe even worse, since it was no confidence of hers, but a matter lyingbetween Lloyd and her father alone. 

She sat tapping the rim of the ink-bottle with her pen as she recalledthe conversation. "Yes, it's all right for you to go, Lloyd, but wait amoment. Have you my silver yardstick with you to-night, dear?"

"Why of co'se, Papa Jack. What makes you ask such a question?"

"Well, " he answered, "there is so much weaving going on around youlately, and weddings are apt to put all sorts of notions into a girl'shead. I just wanted to remind you that only village lads and shepherdboys are in sight, probably not even a knight, and the mantle must beworthy of a prince's wearing, you know. "

Then Lloyd pretended to be hurt, and Betty could tell from her voicejust how she lifted her head with an air of injured dignity. 

"Remembah I gave you my promise, suh, the promise of a Lloyd. Isn't thatenough?"

"More than enough, my little Hildegarde. " As they stepped out of thebushes together Betty saw him playfully pinch her cheek. Then Lloydwent on down the bank. Here Betty took up her pen again. 

"When she stepped into the boat the moonlight on her white dress andshining hair made her look almost as ethereal and fair as she had in theElaine tableau. The boats could only go as far as the shallows, just alittle way below the bridge, so they went back and forth a number oftimes, making such a pretty picture for those who waited on the bank. 

"After Doctor Bradford had brought Lloyd back he asked me to go withhim, and oh, it was so beautiful out there on the water. I'll enjoy thememory of it as long as I live. At first I couldn't think of anything tosay, and the more I tried to think of something that would interest aman like him, the more embarrassed I grew. It was the first time I hadever tried to talk to any but old men or the home boys. 

"After we had rowed a little way in silence he turned to me with thejolliest twinkle in his eyes and asked me why the boat ought to becalled the Mayflower. I was _so_ surprised, I asked him if that was ariddle, and he said no, but he wondered if I wouldn't feel that it wasthe Mayflower because I was adrift in it with the Pilgrim Father. 

"I was so embarrassed I didn't know what to say, for I couldn't imaginehow he had found out that we had called him that. I couldn't have talkedto him at all if I had known what Lloyd told me afterward when we hadgone to our room. It seems that by some unlucky chance he was left alonewith Mary Ware for awhile before dinner. Godmother told her to entertainhim, and she proceeded to do so by showing him the collection of all thekodak pictures Rob had taken of us during the house-party. After he leftus yesterday morning he went straight to work to develop and print thefilms he had just taken, and when he brought us the copies thatafternoon, we were busy, and he slipped them into the album with theothers without saying anything about them. So none of us saw them untilMary came across them in showing them to Doctor Bradford. 

"There was the one of us with our hands thrust through the bars, when wewere trying to make Rob choose right or left, and one of Joyce and medrawing straws. Neither of us had the slightest idea that he had takenus in that act, and Mary was so surprised that she gave the whole thingaway--blurted out what we were doing, before she thought that he was thePilgrim Father. Then in her confusion, to cover up her mistake, shebegan to explain as only Mary Ware can, and the more she explained, themore ridiculous things she told about us. Doctor Bradford must havefound her vastly entertaining from the way he laughed whenever he quotedher, which he did frequently. 

"I wish she wouldn't be so alarmingly outspoken when she sings ourpraises to strangers. She gave him to understand that I am afull-fledged author and playwright, the peer of any poet laureate whoever held a pen; that Lloyd is a combination of princess and angel andhalo-crowned saint, and Joyce a model big sister and an all-roundgenius. How she managed in the short time they were alone to tell him asmuch as she did will always remain a mystery. 

"He knew all about Joyce raising bees at the Wigwam to earn money forher art lessons, and my nearly going blind at the first house-party, andwhy we all wear Tusitala rings. Only time will reveal what else shetold. Maybe, after all, her confidences made things easier, for it gaveus something to laugh about right in the beginning, and that took awaythe stiff feeling, and we were soon talking like old friends. By thetime the boat landed I was glad that he had fallen to my lot asattendant instead of Rob, for he is so much more entertaining. He toldabout a moonlight ride he had on the Nile last winter when he was inEgypt, and that led us to talking of lotus flowers, and that toTennyson's poem of the 'Lotus Eaters. ' He quoted a verse from it whichhe said was, to him, one of the best comparisons in English verse. 

 "'There is sweet music here that softer falls Than petals from blown roses on the grass, Or night dews upon still waters, between walls Of shadowy granite in a gleaming pass. _Music that gentlier on the spirit lies_ _Than tired eyelids upon tired eyes. _'

"The other boat-load, far down the creek, was singing 'Sweet and low, wind of the western sea, ' and he rested on his oars for us to listen. Ihad often repeated that verse to myself when I closed my eyes after ahard day's study. Nothing falls gentlier than tired eyelids upon tiredeyes, and to have him understand the feeling and admire the poem in thesame way that I did, was such a pleasant sensation, as if I had comeupon a delightful unexplored country, full of pleasant surprises. 

"Such thoughts as that about music are the ones I love best, and yet Inever would dream of speaking of such things to Rob or Malcolm, who areboth old and dear friends. 

"After all, the coon hunt proved a very small part of the evening'sentertainment, and he must have liked it, for I heard him say togodmother, as he bade her good night, that if this was a taste of realKentucky life, he would like a steady diet of it all the rest of hisdays. "

CHAPTER XI. 

THE FOUR-LEAVED CLOVER

As Betty carefully blotted the last page and placed the stopper in theink-bottle, the clock in the hall began to strike, and she realized thatshe must have been writing fully an hour. The whole household was astirnow. She would be late to breakfast unless she hurried with herdressing. 

Steps on the gravelled path below the balcony made her peep out betweenthe vines. Stuart and Doctor Bradford were coming back from an earlystroll about the place. The wistaria clung too closely to the trellisfor them to see her, but, as they crossed the grassy court between thetwo wings, they looked up at Eugenia's balcony opposite. Betty lookedtoo. That bower of golden-hearted roses had drawn her glances more thanonce that morning. Now in the midst of it, in a morning dress of pink, fresh and fair as a blossom herself, stood Eugenia, reaching up for ahalf-blown bud above her head. Her sleeves fell back from her gracefulwhite arms, and as she broke the bud from its stem a shower ofrose-petals fell on her dusky hair and upturned face. 

Then Betty saw that Doctor Bradford had passed on into the house, leaving Stuart standing there with his hat in his hand, smiling up atthe beautiful picture above him. 

"Good morrow, Juliet, " he called, softly. "Happy is the bride the sunshines on. Was there ever such a glorious morning?"

"It's perfect, " answered Eugenia, leaning out of her rose bower to smiledown at him. 

"I wonder if the bride's happiness measures up to the morning, " heasked. "Mine does. "

For answer she glanced around, her finger on her lips as if to warn himthat walls have ears, and then with a light little laugh tossed therosebud down to him. "Wait! I'll come and tell you, " she said. 

Betty, gathering up her writing material, saw him catch the rose, touchit to his lips and fasten it in his coat. Then, conscience-smitten thatshe had seen the little by-play not intended for other eyes, she boltedback into her room through the window, so hurriedly that she struck herhead against the sash with a force which made her see stars for severalminutes. 

The first excitement after breakfast was the arrival of the bride'scake. Aunt Cindy had baked it, the bride herself had stirred the charmsinto it, but it had been sent to Louisville to be iced. Lloyd called theentire family into the butler's pantry to admire it, as it satimposingly on a huge silver salver. 

"It looks as if it might have come out of the Snow Queen's palace, " shesaid, "instead of the confectionah's. Wouldn't you like to see the placewhere those snow-rose garlands grow?"

"Somebody take Phil away from it! Quick!" said Stuart. "Once I had abirthday cake iced in pink with garlands of white sugar roses all aroundit, and he sneaked into the pantry before the party and picked off somany of the roses that it looked as if a mouse had nibbled the edges. Aunt Patricia put him to bed and he missed the party, but we couldn'tpunish him that way if he should spoil the wedding cake, because we needhis services as best man. So we'd better remove him from temptation. "

"Look here, son, " answered Phil, taking Stuart by the shoulders andpushing him ahead of him. "When it comes to raking up youthful sinsyou'd better lie low. 'I could a tale unfold' that would make Eugeniathink that this is 'a fatal wedding morn, ' If she knew all she wouldn'thave you. "

"Then you sha'n't tell anything, " declared Lloyd. "I'm not going to becheated out of my share of the wedding, no mattah what a dahk pasteithah of you had. Forget it, and come and help us hunt the foah-leafclovahs that Eugenia wants for the dream-cake boxes. "

"What are they?" asked Miles Bradford, as he edged out of the pantryafter the others. Mary happened to be the one in front of him, and sheturned to answer, pointing to one of the shelves, where lay a pile oftiny heart-shaped boxes, tied with white satin ribbons. 

"Each guest is to have one of those, " she explained. "There'll be apiece of wedding cake in it, and a four-leaf clover if we can findenough to go around. Most people don't have the clovers, but Eugeniaheard about them, and she wants to try all the customs that everybodyever had. You put it under your pillow for three nights, and whateveryou dream will come true. If you dream about the same person all threenights, that is the one you will marry. "

"Horrible!" exclaimed he, laughing. "Suppose one has nightmares. Willthey come true?"

Mary nodded gravely. "Mom Beck says so, and Eliot. So did old Mrs. Bisbee. She's the one that told Eugenia about the clovers. There was onewith her piece of cake from her sister's wedding, that she dreamed onnearly fifty years ago. She dreamed of Mr. Bisbee three nights straightahead, and she said there never was a more fortunate wedding. They'llcelebrate their golden anniversary soon. "

"Miss Mary, " asked her listener, solemnly, "do you girls really believeall these signs and wonders? I have heard more queer superstitions thefew hours I have been in this Valley, than in all my life before. "

"Oh, no, we don't really believe in them. Only the darkies do that. Butyou can't help feeling more comfortable when they 'point right' for youthan when they don't; like seeing the new moon over your right shoulder, you know. And it's fun to try all the charms. Eugenia says so manybrides have done it that it seems a part of the performance, like theveil and the trail and the orange-blossoms. "

They passed from the dining-room into the hall, then out on to the frontporch, where they stood waiting for Joyce and Eugenia to get theirhats. While they waited, Rob Moore joined them, and they explained thequest they were about to start upon. 

"Where are you going to take us, Miss Lloyd?" asked Miles Bradford. "According to the old legend the four-leaved clover is to be found onlyin Paradise. "

"Oh, do you know a legend about it?" asked Betty, eagerly. "I've alwaysthought there ought to be one. "

"Then you must read the little book, Miss Betty, called 'Abdallah, orthe Four-leaved Shamrock. ' Abdallah was a son of the desert who spenthis life in a search for the lucky shamrock. He had been taught that itwas the most beautiful flower of Paradise. One leaf was red like copper, another white like silver, the third yellow like gold, and the fourthwas a glittering diamond. When Adam and Eve were driven out of thegarden, poor Eve reached out and clutched at a blossom to carry awaywith her. In her despair she did not notice what she plucked, but, asshe passed through the portal, curiosity made her open her hand to lookat the flower she had snatched. To her joy it was the shamrock. Butwhile she looked, a gust of wind caught up the diamond leaf and blew itback within the gates, just as they closed behind her. The name of thatleaf was Perfect Happiness. That is why men never find it in this worldfor all their searching. It is to be found only in Paradise. "

"Oh, but I don't believe that!" cried Lloyd. "Lots and lots of times Ihave been perfectly happy, and I am suah that everybody must be at sometime or anothah in this world. "

"Yes, but you didn't stay happy, did you?" asked Joyce, who had comeback in time to hear part of the legend. "We get glimpses of it now andthen, as poor Eve did when she opened her hand, but part of it alwaysflies away while we are looking at it. People can be contented all thetime, and happy in a mild way, but nobody can be perfectly, radiantlyhappy all the time, day in and day out. The legend is right. It is onlyin Paradise that one can find the diamond leaf. "

"Joyce talks as if she were a hundred yeahs old, " laughed Lloyd, lookingup at Doctor Bradford. "Maybe there is some truth in yoah old Orientallegend, but I believe times have changed since Abdallah went a-hunting. Phil and I came across a song the othah day that I want you all to heah. Maybe it will make you change yoah minds. "

Phil protested with many grimaces and much nonsense that he "could notsing the old songs now. " That he would not "be butchered to make a Romanholiday. " But all the time he protested, he was stepping toward thepiano in a fantastic exaggerated cake-walk that set his audience tolaughing. At the first low notes of the accompaniment, he dropped hisfoolishness and began to sing in a full, sweet voice that brought theold Colonel to the door of his den to listen. Eliot, packing trunks inthe upper hall, leaned over the banister:

 "I know a place where the sun is like gold, And the cherry blooms burst with snow. And down underneath is the loveliest nook Where the four-leaf clovers grow. 

 "One leaf is for hope and one is for faith, And one is for love you know, And God put another one in for luck. If you search you will find where they grow. 

 "And you must have hope and you must have faith. You must love and be strong, and so If you work, if you wait, you will find the place Where the four-leaf clovers grow. "

It was a sweet, haunting melody that accompanied the words, and the gayparty of nine, strolling toward the orchard, hummed it all the way. 

There in the shade of the big apple-trees, where the clover grew inthick patches, they began their search; all together at first, then inlittle groups of twos and threes, until they had hunted over the entireorchard. Stuart, who had been doing more talking than hunting, went togroping industriously around on his hands and knees, when they all cametogether again after an hour's search. 

"Bradford, " he said, emphatically, "I am beginning to think that you andMiss Joyce are right, and that Paradise has a monopoly on the four-leafkind. I haven't caught a glimpse of one. Not even its shadow. "

Lloyd held up a handful. "I found them in several places, thick ashops. "

"Which goes to show, " he insisted, "that the song, 'If you work, if youwait, you will find the place, ' is all a delusion and a snare. You allhave worked, and Eugenia and I have waited, and only you, who are 'bawnlucky, ' have found any. It's pure luck. "

"No, " interrupted Miles Bradford, "you can't call strolling around ashady orchard with a pretty girl work, and the song does correspond withthe legend. Abdallah worked hard for his first leaf, dug a well withwhich to bless the thirsty desert for all time. The bit of copper was atthe bottom of it. The effort he made for the second almost cost him hislife. He rescued a poor slave girl in order to be faithful to a trustimposed in him, and taught her the truths of Allah. The silver leaf washis reward. He found it in the heathen fetish which she gave him in hergratitude. It had been her god. 

"I am not sure about the golden leaf, but I think it was the reward ofliving a wise and honorable life. The day of his birth it was said thathe alone wept, while all around him rejoiced; and he resolved to live sowell that at the day of his death he should have no cause for tears, andall around him should mourn. No, I'll not have you belittling my hero, Tremont. There was no luck about it whatsoever. He won the first threeleaves by unselfish service, faithfulness to every trust, and wise, honorable living, so that he well deserved that Paradise should bringhim perfect happiness. "

"Girls!" cried Betty, her face lighting up, "_we_ must be warm on thetrail, with our Tusitala rings, our Warwick Hall motto, and our Order ofHildegarde. A Road of the Loving Heart is as hard to dig in every one'smemory as a well in the desert. If we keep the tryst in all things, we're bound to find the silver leaf, and think of the wisdom it takesto weave with the honor of a Hildegarde!"

Eugenia interrupted her: "Oh, Betty, _please_ write a legend of theshamrock for girls that will fit modern times. In the old style thereare always three brothers or three maidens who start out to find athing, and only the last one or the youngest one is successful. Theothers all come to grief. In yours give _everybody_ a chance to behappy. 

"There is no reason why _every_ maiden shouldn't find the leavesaccording to the Tusitala rings and Ederyn's motto and Hildegarde'syardstick. And then, don't you see, they needn't wait till the end oftheir lives for the diamond, for _the prince_ will bring it! Don't yousee? It is his coming that _makes_ the perfect happiness!"

Phil laughed. "Stuart's face shows how he appreciates that compliment, "he said, "and as for me and all the other sons of Adam, oh, fair layde, I make my bow!" Springing to his feet, he swept her an elaboratecurtsey, holding out his coat as if it were the ball-gown of somestately dame in a minuet. 

Lloyd, sitting on the grass with her hands clasped on her knees, lookedaround the circle of smiling faces, and then gave her shoulders awhimsical shrug. 

"That's all right if the prince _comes_, " she exclaimed. "But how is oneto get the diamond leaf if he doesn't? Mammy Eastah told my fortune in ateacup, and she said: 'I see a risin' sun, and a row of lovahs, but Idon't see you a-takin' any of 'em, honey. Yo' ways am ways ofpleasantness, and all yo' paths is peace, but I'se powahful skeeredyou'se goin' to be an ole maid. I sholy is, if the teacup signs p'intright. '"

"It will be your own fault, then, " answered Phil. "The row of lovers isthere in the teacup for you. You've only to take your pick. "

"But, " began Rob, "maybe it is just as well that she shouldn't chooseany of them. The prince's coming doesn't always bring happiness. Look atold Mr. Deckly. For thirty years he and his fair bride have led aregular cat and dog life. And there are the Twicketts and the Graysonsand the Blackstones right in this one little valley, to say nothing ofall the troubles one reads of in the papers. "

"No!" contradicted Eugenia, emphatically. "You have no right to holdthem up as examples. It is plainly to be seen that Mrs. Deckly and Mrs. Twickett and Mrs. Grayson and Mrs. Blackstone were not Hildegardes. Theyfailed to earn their third leaf by doing their weaving wisely. Theydidn't use their yardsticks. They looked only at the 'village churls, 'and wove their webs to fit their unworthy shoulders, so that the menthey married were not princes, and they couldn't bring the diamondleaf. "

"The name of the prince need not always be _Man_, need it?" venturedJoyce. "Couldn't it be Success? It seems to me that if I had struggledalong for years, trying to make the most of my little ability, hadworked just as faithfully and wisely at my art as I could, it would beperfect happiness to have the world award me the place of a greatartist. It would be as much to me as the diamond leaf that marriagecould bring. I should think you'd feel that way, too, Betty, about yourwriting. There are marriages that are failures just as there areartistic and literary careers that are failures, and there are diamondleaves to reward the work and waiting of old maids, just as there arediamond leaves to reward the Hildegardes who use their yardsticks. Sometimes there are girls who don't marry because they sacrifice theirlives to taking care of their families, or living for those who aredependent on them. Surely there must be a blessedness and a happinessfor them greater than any diamond leaf a prince could bring. "

"There is probably, " answered Eugenia, "but it seems as if most peopleof that kind have to wait till they get to Paradise to find it. "

"I don't think so, " said Betty. "I believe all the dear old-maid auntsand daughters, _who earn the first three leaves_, find the fourthwaiting somewhere in this world. It is only the selfish ones, who slighttheir share of the duties life imposes on every one, who are cross andunlovely and unloved. They probably would not have been happy wives ifthey had married. "

"Well, but what about _me_!" persisted Lloyd. "I nevah expect to have acareer, so Success in big lettahs will nevah bring me a medal or achromo. I am not sacrificing my life for anybody's comfort, and I cannevah have any little nieces and nephews to whom I can be one of thosedeah old aunts Betty talks about, and there is that dreadful teacup!"

She did not hear Doctor Bradford's laughing answer, for Phil, turninghis back on the others, looked down into her upturned face and began tohum, as if to himself, "_From the desert I come to thee!_" Only Maryunderstood the significance of it as Lloyd did, and she knew why Lloydsuddenly turned away and began passing her hands over the grass aroundher, as if resuming her search. She wanted to hide her face, into whichthe color was creeping. 

A train whistled somewhere far across the orchard, and Rob took out hiswatch. The sight of it suggested something in line with theconversation, for when he had noted the time, he touched the spring thatopened the back of the case. 

"Never you mind, Little Colonel, " he said, in a patronizing, big-brotherly tone. "If nobody else will stand between you and thatteacup, _I'll_ come to the rescue. Bobby won't go back on his old chum. _I'll_ bring you a four-leaf clover. Here's one, all ready and waiting. "

Lloyd looked across at the watch he held out to her. "Law, Bobby, " sheexclaimed, giving him the old name she had called him when they firstplayed together, "I supposed you had lost that clovah long ago. "

"Not much, " he answered. "It's the finest hoodoo ever was. It helped methrough high school. I swear I never could have passed in Latin but foryour good-luck charm. It's certainly to my interest to hang on to it. 

"Think of it, Mary, " he added, seeing that her eyes were round withinterest, "that was given to me by a princess. "

Mary darted a quick look at Lloyd and another one at him to see if hewere teasing. 

"Oh, I _see_!" she remarked, in a tone of enlightenment. 

"What do you see?" he demanded, laughing. 

She would not answer, but, ignoring his further attempts to make hertalk, she, too, turned again to search for clovers, inwardly excitedover the discovery she thought she had made. She would make a note of itin her journal, she decided, something like this: "The plot thickens. The B. M. And Sir F. Have a rival they little suspect. R. Carries thecharm the M. Of H. Gave him in years gone by, and I can see many reasonswhy he should be the one to bring her the diamond leaf. "

Only two dozen clovers rewarded their united search, but Eugenia wassatisfied. "We'll put them in the boxes haphazard, " she said, "and theuncertainty of getting one will make it more exciting than if there wereone for every box. "

The path back to the house led past the kitchen, where several coloredwomen were helping Aunt Cindy. Just as they passed, one of them put herhead out of the door to call to a group of children crowded around oneof the windows of the great house. They were watching the decorators atwork inside the drawing-room, hanging the gate of roses in the arch. Theyoungest one was perched on a barrel that had been dragged up for thatpurpose, so that his older brothers and sisters might be spared theweariness of holding him up to see. A narrow board laid across the topmade an uneasy and precarious perch for him. He was seated astride, withhis bare black legs dangling down inside the barrel. 

"You M'haley Gibbs, " called the woman, "don't you let Ca'line Allisonlean agin that bo'd. It'll upset Sweety into the bar'l. "

Her warning came too late, for even as she called the slight board waspushed off its foundations by the weight of the roly-poly Ca'lineAllison, and the pickaninny went down into the barrel as suddenly as acandle is snuffed out by the wind. 

"You M'haley, I'll natcherly lay you out, " shrieked the woman, hurryingup the path to the rescue. But M'haley, made agile by fifteen years ofconstant practice, dodged the cuffing as it was about to descend, andscuttled around the house to wait till Sweety stopped howling. 

"They are Sylvia Gibbs's children, " said Lloyd, in answer to DoctorBradford's astonished comment at seeing so many little negroes in a row. "They can scent a pahty five miles away, and they hang around likelittle black buzzahds waiting for scraps of the feast. I suppose theyfeel they have a right to be heah to-day, as Sylvia is helping in thekitchen. They're the same children, Eugenia, " she added, "who were heahso much when I had my first house-pahty. M'haley is the one who broughtyou that awful, skinny, mottled chicken in a bandbox for you to 'takehome on the kyers fo' a pet, ' she said. "

"So she is!" exclaimed Eugenia, as they passed around the corner of thehouse and caught sight of M'haley, who was peeping out to see if thestorm was over, and if it would be safe to return to the sightseeing atthe window. Her teeth and eyeballs were a-shine with pleasure whenEugenia passed on, after a pleasant greeting and some reference to thechicken. She felt it a great honor to be remembered by the bride, andthanked again, after all these years, for her parting gift. She gave alittle giggle when Lloyd came up, and said, with a coy self-consciousair that was extremely amusing to the Northern man, who had never metthis type of the race before, "I'se a maid of honah, too, Miss Lloyd. "

"You are!" was the surprised answer. "How does that happen?"

"Mammy's gwine to git married agin, to Mistah Robinson, and she saysnobody has a bettah right than me to be maid of honah to her own ma'sweddin'. So that's how come she toted us all along to you-all's weddin', so that Sweety and Ca'line and the boys could learn how to act at herand Mistah Robinson's. "

"When is it to be?" inquired Lloyd. 

"To-morrow night. Mammy's done give her fish-fry and ice-cream festible, and she cleahed enough to pay the weddin' expenses. You-all's suah gwineto git an invite, Miss Lloyd. "

"It is sort of a benefit, " Betty explained to Miles Bradford, as theywalked on. "Instead of giving a concert or a recital, the colored peoplehere give a fish-fry and festival whenever they are in need of money. They used to have them just to raise funds for the church, but now it isquite popular for individuals to give them when there is a funeral or awedding to be paid for. I am so glad you are going to stay over a fewdays. We can show you sights you've never dreamed of in the North. "

Eugenia, first to step into the hall, gave a cry of pleasure. Theflorist and his assistants had been there in their absence, and werejust leaving. They had turned the entire house into a rose-garden. Hall, drawing-room, and library, and the dining-room beyond were filled withsuch lavishness that it seemed as if June herself had taken possession, with all her court. Stuart and Eugenia paused before the tall gate ofsmilax and American beauties. 

"It is the Gate into Paradise, sweetheart, " he whispered, lookingthrough its blossom-covered bars to the altar beyond, that had beenbuilt in the bay-window of the drawing-room, and covered with whiteroses. 

"Yes, " answered Eugenia, smiling up at him. "The legend is right. Wemust enter Paradise to find the diamond leaf. But I was right, too. Itis my prince who will bring mine to me. "

CHAPTER XII. 

THE WEDDING

Lunch was served on the porch, for the tables for the wedding supperwere already spread in the dining-room, and Alec had locked the doorsthat nothing might disturb its perfect order. 

"I think we are really going to be able to avoid that last wild rushwhich usually accompanies home weddings, " said Mrs. Sherman, as they satleisurely talking over the dessert. "Usually the bridesmaids' gloves aremissing, or the bride's slippers have been packed into one of the trunksand sent on ahead to the depot. But this time I have tried to haveeverything so perfectly arranged that the wedding will come to pass asquietly and naturally as a flower opens. I want to have everything givethe impression of having _bloomed_ into place. "

"Eliot and Mom Beck are certainly doing their part to make such animpression, " said Eugenia. "Eliot has already counted over everyarticle I am to wear, a dozen times, and they're all laid out inreadiness, even to the 'something blue. '"

"Oh, that reminds me!" began Lloyd, then stopped abruptly. Nobodynoticed the exclamation, however, but Mary, and, with swift intuition, she guessed what the something blue had suggested to the maid of honor. It was that bit of turquoise that caused the only scramble in thepreparations, for Lloyd could not remember where she had put it. 

"I was suah I dropped it into one of the boxes in my top bureau drawer, "she said to herself on the way up-stairs. Then, with her finger on herlip, she stopped on the threshold of the sewing-room to consider. Sheremembered that when she gave up her room to the guests, all the boxeshad been taken out of that drawer. Some of them had been put in thesewing-room closet, and some carried to a room at the end of the backhall, where trunks and hampers were stored. 

Now, while Betty was down-stairs, helping with a few last details, Lloydtook advantage of her absence to search all the boxes in the closet anddrawers of the sewing-room, but the missing turquoise was not in any ofthem. 

"I know I ought to be taking a beauty sleep, " she thought, "so I'll beall fresh and fine for the evening, but I must find it, for I promisedPhil I'd wear it. "

In the general shifting of furniture to accommodate so many guests, several articles had found their way back among the trunks. Among themwas an old rocking-chair. It was drawn up to the window now, and, asLloyd pushed open the door, to her surprise she found Mary Warehalf-hidden in its roomy depths. She was tilted back in it with a bookin her hands. 

Mary was as surprised as Lloyd. She had been so absorbed in the storythat she did not hear the knob turn, and as the hinges suddenly creaked, she started half out of her chair. 

"Oh!" she exclaimed, settling back when she saw it was only Lloyd. "Youfrightened me nearly out of my wits. I didn't know that anybody evercame in here. " Then she seemed to feel that some explanation of herpresence was necessary. 

"I came in here because our room is full of clothes, spread out ready towear. They're all over the room, --mine on one side and Joyce's on theother. I was so afraid I'd forget and flop down on them, or misplacesomething, that I came in here to read awhile. It makes the afternoon gofaster. Seems to me it never will be time to dress. "

Lloyd stood looking at the shelves around the room, then said: "If timehangs so heavy on yoah hands, I believe I'll ask you to help me hunt forsomething I have lost. It's just a trifle, and maybe it is foolish forme to try to find it now, when everything is in such confusion, but itis something that I want especially. "

"I'd love to help hunt, " exclaimed Mary, putting down her book andholding out her arms to take the boxes which Lloyd was reaching downfrom the shelves. One by one she piled them on a packing-trunk behindher, and then climbed up beside them, sitting Turk fashion in theirmidst, and leaving the chair by the window for Lloyd. 

"It's just a scrap of unset turquoise, " explained Lloyd, as sheunwrapped a small package, "no larger than one of the beads on thisfan-chain. I was in a big hurry when I dropped it into my drawer, and Ididn't notice which box I put it in. So we'll have to take out all theseribbons and laces and handkerchiefs and sachet-bags. "

It was the first time during her visit that Mary had been entirely alonewith her adored Princess, and to be with her now in this intimate way, smoothing her dainty ribbons, peeping into her private boxes, andhandling her pretty belongings, gave her a pleasure that wasindescribable. 

"Shall I open this, too?" she asked, presently, picking up a packagewrapped in an old gauze veil. 

Lloyd glanced up. "Yes; although I haven't the slightest idea what itcan be. "

A faint, delicious odor stole out as Mary unwound the veil, an odor ofsandalwood, that to her was always suggestive of the "Arabian Nights, "of beautiful Oriental things, and of hidden treasures in secret panelsof old castles. 

"I've hunted for that box high and low!" cried Lloyd, reaching forwardto take it. "Mom Beck must have wrapped it so, to keep the dust out ofthe carving. I nevah thought of looking inside that old veil foranything of any account. I think moah of what it holds than any othahornament I own. "

Mary watched her curiously as she threw back the lid and lifted out anecklace of little Roman pearls. Lloyd dangled it in front of her, lifting the shining string its full length, then letting it slip backinto her palm, where it lay a shimmering mass of tiny lustrous spheres. Regarding it intently, she said, with one of those unaccountableimpulses which sometimes seize people:

"Mary, I've a great mind to tell you something I've nevah yet told asoul, --how it was I came to make this necklace. I believe I'll weah itwhen I stand up at the altah with Eugenia. It seems the most appropriatekind of a necklace that a maid of honah could weah. "

The story of Ederyn and the king's tryst was fresh in Mary's mind, forBetty had told it at the lunch-table half an hour before, in answer toDoctor Bradford's question about the motto of Warwick Hall; the mottowhich Betty declared was a surer guide-post to the silver leaf of themagic shamrock than the one Abdallah followed. 

"I can't undahstand, " began Lloyd, "why I should be telling this to alittle thing like you, when I hid it from Betty as if it were a crime. Iknew she would think it a beautiful idea, --marking each day with a pearlwhen its duties had been well done, but I was half-afraid that she wouldthink it conceited of me--conceited for me to count that any of my dayswere perfect enough to be marked with a pearl. But it wasn't that Ithought them so. It was only that I tried my hardest to make the mostof them, --in my classes and every way, you know. "

As Lloyd went on, telling of the times she had failed and times she hadsucceeded, Mary felt as if she were listening to the confessions of awhite Easter lily. It seemed perfectly justifiable to her that Lloydshould have had tantrums, and stormed at the doctor when he forbade hergoing back to school after the Christmas vacation, and that she shouldhave cried and moped and made everybody around her miserable for days. Mary's overweening admiration for the Princess carried her to the pointof feeling that everybody _ought_ to be miserable when she was unhappy. In Mary's opinion it was positively saintly of her the way she took upher rosary again after awhile, trying to string it with tokens of daysspent unselfishly at home; days unstained by regrets and tears and idlerepinings for what could not be helped. 

Mary laughed over the story of one hard-earned pearl, the day spent inmaking pies and cleaning house for the disagreeable old Mrs. Perkins, who didn't want to be reformed, and who wouldn't stay clean. 

"I haven't the faintest idea why I told you all this, " said Lloyd atlast, once more lifting the string to watch the light shimmer along itslustrous length. "But now you see why I prize this little rosary sohighly. It was what lifted me out of my dungeon of disappointment. "

Afterward Mary thought of a dozen things she wished she had said toLloyd while they were there together in the privacy of the trunk-room. She wished she had let her know in some way how much she admired her, and longed to be like her, and how she was going to try all the rest ofher life to be a real maid of honor, worthy in every way of her love andconfidence. But some shy, unusual feeling of constraint crowded theunspoken words back into her throbbing little throat, and theopportunity passed. 

Clasping the pearls around her neck, Lloyd picked up the sandalwood boxagain and shook it. "Heah's a lot of loose beads of all kinds, with asmany colahs as a kaleidoscope. You do bead-work, don't you, Mary? Youmay have these if you can use them. "

In response to her eager acceptance, Lloyd looked around for somethingto pour the beads into. "There's an empty cologne bottle on that shelfabove yoah head. If you will reach it down, I'll poah them into that. "

Beads of various sizes and colors, from garnet to amber, poured in arainbow stream from the box to the wide-necked bottle. Here and therewas the glint of cut steel and the gleam of crystal, and several timesMary noticed a little Roman pearl like those on the rosary, and thoughtwith a thrill of the necklace she intended to begin making that veryday. Suddenly Lloyd gave an exclamation and reversed the gay-coloredstream, pouring it slowly back into the box from the bottle. 

"I thought I saw that turquoise, " she cried. "I remembah now, it was inmy hand when I took off my necklace, and I must have dropped them inheah togethah. "

She parted the beads with a cautious forefinger, pushing them aside oneat a time. Presently a bit of blue rolled uppermost, and she looked uptriumphantly. "There it is!"

Mary flushed guiltily at sight of the turquoise, wondering what Lloydwould think if she knew that she had overheard what Phil had said aboutthat bit of something blue. She went back to her chair and her book bythe window after Lloyd left, but the book lay unopened in her lap. Shehad many things to think of while she slowly turned the bottle betweenherself and the light and watched its shifting colors. Several times ablack bead appeared among the others. 

"I'd have had to use black beads more than once, " she reflected, "if _I_had been making a rosary, for there's the day I was so rude to GirlieDinsmore, and the awful time when I got so interested that Ieavesdropped. "

 * * * * *

The wedding was all that Mrs. Sherman had planned, everything fallinginto place as beautifully and naturally as the unfolding of a flower. The assembled guests seated in the great bower of roses heard a low, soft trembling of harp-strings deepen into chords. Then to thisaccompaniment two violins began the wedding-march, and the great gate ofroses swung wide. As Stuart and his best man entered from a side doorand took their places at the altar in front of the old minister, therest of the bridal party came down the stairs: Betty and Miles Bradfordfirst, Joyce and Rob, then the maid of honor walking alone with herarmful of roses. After her came the bride with her hand on her father'sarm. 

Just at that instant some one outside drew back the shutters in thebay-window, and a flood of late afternoon sunshine streamed across theroom, the last golden rays of the perfect June day making a path oflight from the gate of roses to the white altar. It shone full acrossEugenia's face, down on the long-trained shimmering satin, the littlegleaming slippers, the filmy veil that enveloped her, the pearls thatglimmered white on her white throat. 

Eliot, standing in a corner, nervously watching every movement withtwitching lips, relaxed into a smile. "It's a good omen!" she said, halfunder her breath, then gave a startled glance around to see if any onehad heard her speak at such an improper time. 

The music grew softer now, so faint and low it seemed the mere shadow ofsound. Above the rare sweetness of that undertone of harp and violinsrose the words of the ceremony: "_I, Stuart, take thee, Eugenia, to bemy wedded wife_. "

Mary, standing at her post by the rose gate, felt a queer little chillcreep over her. It was so solemn, so very much more solemn than she hadimagined it would be. She wondered how she would feel if the time evercame for her to stand in Eugenia's place, and plight her faith to someman in that way--"_for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, insickness and in health, until death us do part_. "

Eliot was crying softly in her corner now. Yes, getting married was aterribly solemn thing. It didn't end with the ceremony and the prettyclothes and the shower of congratulations. That was only the beginning. "_For better, for worse_, "--that might mean all sorts of trouble andheartache. "_Sickness and death_, "--it meant to be bound all one's lifeto one person, morning, noon, and night. How very, very careful onewould have to be in choosing, --and then suppose one made a mistake andthought the man she was marrying was good and honest and true, and he_wasn't_! It would be all the same, for "_for better, for worse_, " ranthe vow, "_until death us do part_. "

Then and there, holding fast to the gate of roses, Mary made up her mindthat she could never, never screw her courage up to the point of takingthe vows Eugenia was taking, as she stood with her hand clasped inStuart's, and the late sunshine of the sweet June day streaming down onher like a benediction. 

"It's lots safer to be an old maid, " thought Mary. "I'll take my chancesgetting the diamond leaf some other way than marrying. Anyhow, if I evershould make a choice, I'll ask somebody else's opinion, like I do when Igo shopping, so I'll be sure I'm getting a real prince, and not animitation one. "

It was all over in another moment. Harp and violins burst into thejoyful notes of Mendelssohn's march, and Stuart and Eugenia turned fromthe altar to pass through the rose gate together. Lloyd and Philfollowed, then the other attendants in the order of their entrance. Onthe wide porch, screened and canopied with smilax and roses, a coolgreen out-of-doors reception-room had been made. Here they stood toreceive their guests. 

Mary, in all the glory of her pink chiffon dress and satin slippers, stood at the end of the receiving line, feeling that this one experiencewas well worth the long journey from Arizona. So thoroughly did shedelight in her part of the affair, and so heartily did she enter intoher duties, that more than one guest passed on, smiling at her evidentenjoyment. 

"I wish this wedding could last a week, " she confided to LieutenantLogan, when he paused beside her. "Don't you know, they did in thefairy-tales, some of them. There was 'feasting and merrymaking forseventy days and seventy nights. ' This one is going by so fast that itwill soon be train-time. I don't suppose _they_ care, " she added, with anod toward the bride, "for they're going to spend their honeymoon in aGold of Ophir rose-garden, where there are goldfish in the fountains, and real orange-blossoms. It's out in California, at Mister Stuart'sgrandfather's. Elsie, his sister, couldn't come, so they're going out tosee her, and take her a piece of every kind of cake we have to-night, and a sample of every kind of bonbon. Don't you wonder who'll get thecharms in the bride's cake? That's the only reason I am glad the clockis going so fast. It will soon be time to cut the cake, and I'm wild tosee who gets the things in it. "

The last glow of the sunset was still tinting the sky with a tender pinkwhen they were summoned to the dining-room, but indoors it had grown sodim that a hundred rose-colored candles had been lighted. Again themusic of harp and violins floated through the rose-scented rooms. AsMary glanced around at the festive scene, the tables gleaming withsilver and cut glass, the beautiful costumes, the smiling faces, a linefrom her old school reader kept running through her mind: "_And all wentmerry as a marriage-bell! And all went merry as a marriage-bell!_"

It repeated itself over and over, through all the gay murmur of voicesas the supper went on, through the flowery speech of the old Colonelwhen he stood to propose a toast, through the happy tinkle of laughterwhen Stuart responded, through the thrilling moment when at last thebride rose to cut the mammoth cake. In her nervous excitement, Maryactually began to chant the line aloud, as the first slice was liftedfrom the great silver salver: "All went merry--" Then she clapped herhand over her mouth, but nobody had noticed, for Allison had drawn thewedding-ring, and a chorus of laughing congratulations was drowning outevery other sound. 

As the cake passed on from guest to guest, Betty cried out that she hadfound the thimble. Then Lloyd held up the crystal charm, the one thebride had said was doubly lucky, because it held imbedded in its centrea four-leaved clover. Nearly every slice had been crumbled as soon as itwas taken, in search of a hidden token, but Mary, who had not dared tohope that she might draw one, began leisurely eating her share. Suddenlyher teeth met on something hard and flat, and glancing down, she saw theedge of a coin protruding from the scrap of cake she held. 

"Oh, it's the shilling!" she exclaimed, in such open-mouthedastonishment that every one laughed, and for the next few moments shewas the centre of the congratulations. Eugenia took a narrow whiteribbon from one of the dream-cake boxes, and passed it through the holein the shilling, so that she could hang it around her neck. 

"Destined to great wealth!" said Rob, with mock solemnity. "I always didthink I'd like to marry an heiress. I'll wait for you, Mary. "

"No, " interrupted Phil, laughing, "fate has decreed that I should be thelucky man. Don't you see that it is Philip's head with Mary's on thatshilling?"

"Whew!" teased Kitty. "Two proposals in one evening, Mary. See what thecharm has done for you already!"

Mary knew that they were joking, but she turned the color of her dress, and sat twiddling the coin between her thumb and finger, too embarrassedto look up. They sat so long at the table that it was almost train-timewhen Eugenia went up-stairs to put on her travelling-dress. She made apretty picture, pausing midway up the stairs in her bridal array, theveil thrown back, and her happy face looking down on the girls gatheredbelow. Leaning far over the banister with the bridal bouquet in herhands, she called:

 "Now look, ye pretty maidens, standing all a-row, The one who catches this, the next bouquet shall throw. "

There was a laughing scramble and a dozen hands were outstretched toreceive it. "Oh, Joyce caught it! Joyce caught it!" cried Mary, dancingup and down on the tips of her toes, and clapping her hands over hermouth to stifle the squeal of delight that had almost escaped. "Now, some day I can be maid of honor. "

"So that's why you are so happy over your sister's good fortune, is it?"asked Phil, bent on teasing her every time opportunity offered. 

"No, " was the indignant answer. "That is some of the reason, but I'mgladdest because she didn't get left out of everything. She didn't getone of the cake charms, so I hoped she would catch the bouquet. "

When the carriage drove away at last, a row of shiny black faces waslined up each side of the avenue. All the Gibbs children were there, andAunt Cindy's other grandchildren, with their hands full of rice. 

"Speed 'em well, chillun!" called old Cindy, waving her apron. The ricefell in showers on the top of the departing carriage, and two littlewhite slippers were sent flying along after it, with such force thatthey nearly struck Eliot, sitting beside the coachman. Tired as she was, she turned to smile approval, for the slippers were a good omen, too, inher opinion, and she was happy to think that everything about her MissEugenia's wedding had been carried out properly, down to this lastpropitious detail. 

As the slippers struck the ground, quick as a cat, M'haley dartedforward to grab them. "Them slippahs is mates!" she announced, gleefully, "and I'm goin' to tote 'em home for we-all's wedding. Ikain't squeeze into 'em myself, but Ca'line Allison suah kin. "

Once more, and for the last time, Eugenia leaned out of the carriage tolook back at the dear faces she was leaving. But there was no sadness inthe farewell. Her prince was beside her, and the Gold of Ophirrose-garden lay ahead. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

DREAMS AND WARNINGS

"It's all ovah now!" exclaimed Lloyd, stifling a yawn and looking aroundthe deserted drawing-room, where the candles burned low in theirsconces, and the faded roses were dropping their petals on the floor. Mr. Forbes and Doctor Tremont had just driven away to catch the midnightexpress for New York, and the last guest but Rob had departed. 

"It's all over with that gown of yours, too, isn't it?" asked Phil, glancing at the airy pink skirt, down whose entire front breadth ran awide, zigzag rent. "It's too bad, for it's the most becoming one I'veseen you wear yet. I'm sorry it must be retired from public life soearly in its career. "

Lloyd drew the edges of the largest holes together. "Yes, it's ruinedbeyond all hope, for I stepped cleah through it when I tripped on thestairs, and it pulled apart in at least a dozen places, just as a thinveil would. But you'll see it again, and on anothah maid of honah. M'haley nevah waited to see if I was hurt, but pounced on it and beganto beg for it befoah I got my breath again. She said she could fix itgood enough for her to weah to her mammy's wedding. She would 'turn ithine side befo'' and tie her big blue sash ovah it. Imagine! She'll beheah at the break of day to get it. "

"Do you know it is almost that time now?" asked Betty, coming in fromthe dining-room with seven little heart-shaped boxes. "Here's our cake, and godmother says we'd better take it and go to dreaming on it soon, orthe sun will be up before we get started. "

"Now remembah, " warned Lloyd, as Rob slipped his box into his pocket andbegan looking around for his hat, "we have all promised to tell ourdreams to each othah in the mawning. We'll wait for you, so come ovahearly. Come to breakfast. "

"Thanks. I'll be on hand all right. I'll probably have to wake the restof you. "

"Don't you do it!" exclaimed Phil. "I'll warn you now, if you're waking, _don't_ call me early, mother, dear. If you do, to-morrow won't be thehappiest day of all _your_ glad New Year. I'll promise you that. Howabout you, Bradford?"

"Oh, I'm thinking of sitting up all night, " he answered, laughing, "toescape having any dreams. Miss Mary assures me they will come true, andone might have a nightmare after such a spread as that wedding-supper. Ican hardly afford to take such risks. "

A moment after, Rob's whistle sounded cheerfully down the avenue andAlec was going around the house, putting out the down-stairs lights. Late as it was, when they reached their room, Joyce stopped to smoothevery wrinkle out of her bridesmaid dress, and spread it out carefullyin the tray of her trunk. 

"It is so beautiful, " she said, as she plumped the sleeves into shapewith tissue-paper. "As long as an accident had to happen to one of us itwas lucky that it was Lloyd's dress that was torn. She has so many shewouldn't wear it often anyhow, and this will be my best evening gown allsummer. I expect to get lots of good out of it at the seashore. "

"I'm glad it wasn't mine that was torn, " responded Mary, followingJoyce's example and folding hers away also, with many loving pats. "Probably there'll be a good many times I can wear it here this summer, but there'll never be a chance on the desert, and I shall have outgrownit by next summer, so when I go home I'm going to lay it away inrose-leaves with these darling little satin slippers, because I've hadthe best time of my life in them. In the morning Betty and I are goingto pick all the faded roses to pieces and save the petals. Eugenia wantsto fill a rose-jar with part of them. Betty knows how to make thatpotpourri that Lloyd's Grandmother Amanthis always kept in the rose-jarsin the drawing-room. She's copied the receipt for me. 

"I'm not a bit sleepy, " she continued. "I've had such a beautiful time Icould lie awake all the rest of the night thinking about it. Maybe it'sbecause I drank coffee when I'm not used to it that I'm so wide awake, and I ate--_oh_, how I ate!"

One by one the up-stairs lights went out, and a deep silence fell on theold mansion. The ticking of the great clock on the stairs was the onlysound. The serene peace of the starlit night settled over The Locustslike brooding wings. The clock struck one, then two, and the long handwas half-way around its face again before any other sound but themusical chime broke the stillness. Then a succession of strangled moansbegan to penetrate the consciousness of even the soundest sleeper. Whoever it was that was trying to call for help was evidently terrified, and the terror of the cries sent a cold chill through every one whoheard them. 

"It's burglars, " shrieked Lloyd, sitting up in bed. "Papa Jack! They'rein Joyce's room! They're trying to strangle her! Papa Jack!"

Lights glimmered in every room, and doors flew open along the hall. Adishevelled little group in bath-robes and pajamas rushed out, Mr. Sherman with a revolver, Miles Bradford with a heavy Indian club, andPhil with his walking-stick with the electric battery in its head. Heflashed it like a search-light up and down the hall. 

At the first moan, Joyce had wakened, and realizing that it came fromMary's corner of the room, began to grope on the table beside her bedfor matches. Her fingers trembled so she could scarcely muster strengthto scratch the match when she found it. Then she glanced across the roomand began to laugh hysterically. 

"It's all right!" she called. "Nobody's killed! Mary's just having anightmare!"

By this time Mr. Sherman had opened the door, and the blinding glare ofPhil's electric light flashed full in Mary's eyes. At the same instantLloyd opened the door on the other side, between the two rooms, andBetty and Mrs. Sherman followed her in. So when Mary struggled back towakefulness far enough to sit up and look around in a dazed way, theroom seemed full of people and lights and voices, and she tried to askwhat had happened. She was still sobbing and trembling. 

"What's the matter, Mary?" called Phil from the hall. "Were the Indiansafter you again?"

"Oh, it was awfuller than Indians, " wailed Mary, in a shrill, excitedvoice. "It was the worst nightmare I ever had! I can't shake it off. I'mscared yet. "

"Tell us about it, " said Mrs. Sherman, soothingly. "That's the bestremedy, for the terror always evaporates in the telling, and makes onewonder how anything foolish could have seemed frightful. "

"I--was being married, " wailed Mary, "to a man I couldn't see. And justas soon as it was over he turned from the altar and said, '_Now_ we'llbegin to lead a cat and dog life. ' And, oh, it was so awful, " shecontinued, sobbingly, the terror of the dream still holding her, "he--he_barked_ at me! And he showed his teeth, and I had to spit and mew andhump my back whether _I_ wanted to or not. " Her voice grew higher andmore excited with every sentence. "And I could feel my claws growinglonger and longer, and I knew I'd never have fingers again, only justpaws with fur on 'em! Ugh! It made me sick to feel the fur growing overme that way. I cried and cried. Now as I tell about it, it begins tosound silly, but it was awful then, --so dark, and me hanging by my clawsto the edge of the wood-shed roof, ready to drop off. I thought Phil wasin the house, and I tried to call him, but I couldn't remember his name. I got mixed up with the Philip on the shilling, and I kept yelling, Shill! Philling! Shilling! and I couldn't make him understand. Hewouldn't come!"

As she picked up the corner of the sheet to wipe her eyes Mrs. Shermanand the girls burst out laughing, and there was an echoing peal ofamusement in the hall. The affair would not have seemed half soridiculous in the daylight, but to be called out of bed at that hour tolisten to such a dream, told only as Mary Ware could tell it, impressedthe entire family as one of the funniest things that had ever happened. They laughed till the tears came. 

"I don't see what ever put such a silly thing into my head, " said Mary, finally, beginning to feel mortified as she realized what an excitementshe had created for nothing. 

"It was Rob's talking about people who live a regular cat and dog life, "said Betty. "Don't you remember how long we talked about it to-day downin the clover-patch?"

"You mean yesterday, " prompted Phil from the hall, "for it's nearlymorning now. And, Mary, I'll tell you why you had it. It's a warning! Asolemn warning! It means that you must never, never marry. "

"That's what I thought, too, " quavered Mary, so seriously that they alllaughed again. 

"I hope everybody will excuse me for waking them up, " called Mary, asthey began to disperse to their rooms. "Oh, dear!" she added to Joyce, as she lay back once more on her pillow. "Why is it that I am alwaysdoing such mortifying things! I am _so_ ashamed of myself. "

The lights went out again, and after a few final giggles from Lloyd andBetty, silence settled once more over the house. But the terror of thenightmare had taken such hold upon Mary that she could not close hereyes. 

"Joyce, " she whispered, "do you mind if I come over into your bed? I'mnearly paralyzed, I'm so scared again. "

Slipping across the floor as soon as Joyce had given a sleepy consent, Mary crept in beside her sister in the narrow bed, and lay so still shescarcely breathed, for fear of disturbing her. Presently she reached outand gently clasped the end of Joyce's long plait of hair. It wascomforting to be so near her. But even that failed to convince herentirely that the dream was a thing of imagination. It seemed so real, that several times before she fell asleep she laid her hands against herface to make sure that her fingers had not developed claws, and that nofur had started to grow on them. 

The dreams told around the breakfast-table next morning seemed tame incomparison to Mary's recital the night before. Rob had had none at all, which was interpreted to mean that he would live and die an oldbachelor. Miles Bradford had a dim recollection of being in anautomobile with a girl who seemed to be a sort of a human kaleidoscope, for her face changed as the dream progressed, until she had looked likeevery woman he ever knew. They could think of no interpretation for thatdream. Lloyd's was fully as indefinite. 

"I thought I was making a cake, " she said, "and there was a big bowl ofeggs on the table. But every time I started to break one Mom Beck wouldsay, 'Don't do that, honey. Don't you see it is somebody's haid?' Andsuah enough, every egg I took up had somebody's face on it, like thosepainted Eastah eggs; Rob's, and Phil's, and Malcolm's, and DoctahBradford's, and evah so many I'd nevah seen befoah. "

"A very appropriate dream for a Queen of Hearts, " said Phil, "andanybody can see it's only a repetition of Mammy Easter's fortune, the'row of lovahs in the teacup. ' Tell us which one you are going tochoose. "

"It's Joyce's turn, " was the only answer Lloyd would make. 

"And my dream was positively brilliant, " replied Joyce. "I thought wewere all at The Beeches, and Allison, and Kitty, and all of us weremaking Limericks. Kitty began:

 "'There was a lieutenant named Logan, Who found one day a small brogan. '

Then she stuck, and couldn't get any farther, and Allison had to besmart and pun on my name. She made up a line:

 "'So what will Joyce Ware if she meets a great bear?'

Nobody could get the last rhyme for awhile, but after floundering arounda few minutes I had a sudden inspiration and sprang up and struck anattitude as if I were on the stage, and solemnly thundered out:

 "'And how can he shoot him with _no_ gun?'

"In my dream it seemed the most thrilling thing--I was the heroine ofthe hour, and Lieutenant Logan took me aside and told me that thequestion which I had embodied in that last line was the question of theages. It had staggered the philosophers and scientists of all times. Nobody could answer that question--'how can he shoot him with no gun, 'and he was a better and a happier man, to think that I had rhymed thatringing query with the proud name of Logan. It's the silliest dream Iever had, but you can't imagine how real it seemed at the time. I was sostuck up over his compliments that I began flouncing around with my headheld high, like the picture of 'Oh, fie! you haughty Jane. '"

"Oh, Joyce, what a dream to dream on wedding-cake!" exclaimed Mary, witha long indrawn breath. There was no mistaking her interpretation of it. Everybody laughed, and Joyce hastened to explain, "It isn't worthanything, Mary. It'll never come true, for just before I camedown-stairs to breakfast I discovered my little box of cake lying on thetable under a pile of ribbons. It had been there all night. I hadforgotten to put it under my pillow. And, " she added, cutting shortMary's exclamation of disappointment, "_your_ box lay beside it. We bothwere so busy putting away our dresses, and talking over the wedding thatwe forgot the most important thing of all. "

"Well, I'm certainly glad that mine wasn't under my head when I had thatdreadful nightmare!" exclaimed Mary, in such a relieved tone that everyone laughed again. "I couldn't help taking it as a warning. "

"Joyce and I must have changed places in our sleep, " said Betty, whenher turn came. "She was making verses, and I was trying to draw. But Idid my drawing with a thimble. I thought some one said, 'Betty alwayslikes to put her finger in everybody's pie, and now she has a fatethimble to wear on it, she'll mix up things worse than ever. ' And Isaid, 'No, I'll be very conservative, and only make a diagram of the waythe animals should go into the ark, and then let them do as they pleaseabout following my diagram. ' So I began to draw with the thimble on myfinger, but instead of animals going into the ark they were people goingover Tanglewood stile into the churchyard, and then into the church--agreat procession of people in the funniest combinations. There was oldDoctor Shelby and the minister's great-aunt, Allison and LieutenantStanley, Kitty and Doctor Bradford, Lloyd and Rob, and dozens and dozensbesides. "

"Lloyd and Rob, " echoed the Little Colonel, her face dimpling. "Think ofthat, Bobby! You nevah in yoah wildest dreams thought of thatcombination, now did you?"

"No, I never did, " confessed Rob, with an amused smile. "Betty has justput it into my head. She is like the old woman who told her children notto put beans in their ears while she was gone. They never would havedreamed of doing such a thing if she hadn't suggested it, but, ofcourse, they wanted to see how it would feel, and immediately proceededto fill their ears with beans as soon as her back was turned. "

"You can profit by their example, " laughed Lloyd. "They found that ithurt. It would have been bettah if they had paid no attention to hersuggestion. "

"Moral, " added Rob, "don't do it. Betty, don't you dare put any moredangerous notions in my head. "

Phil's turn came next. "My dream is soon told, " he said. "I had beensleeping like the dead--a perfectly dreamless sleep--till Mary woke usup with her cat-fight. That aroused me so thoroughly that I didn't go tosleep again for more than an hour. Then when I did drop off at nearlymorning, I dreamed that there was a spider on my head, and I gave it atremendous whack to kill it. It was no dream whack, I can tell you, buta real live double-fisted one, that made me see stars. It actually madea dent in my cranium and got me so wide awake that I couldn't drop offagain. I got up and sat by the window till there were faint streaks oflight in the sky. I did the rest of my dreaming with my eyes open, so Idon't have to tell what it was about. "

"I can guess, " thought Mary, intercepting the swift glance he stoleacross the table at something blue. This time it was the ribbon thattied Lloyd's hair, a big bow of turquoise taffeta, knotted becomingly atthe back of her neck. Lloyd, unconscious of the glance, had turned tospeak to Miles Bradford, to answer his question about Sylvia Gibbs'swedding. 

"Yes, it really is to take place to-night in the colohed church. M'haleywas heah befoah we were awake, to get the dress and to repeat theinvitation for the whole family to attend. There are evah so many whitefolks invited, M'haley says. All the Waltons and MacIntyres, of co'se, because Miss Allison is their patron saint, and they swear by her, andall the families for whom Sylvia has washed. "

"It is extremely fortunate for those of us who are going away so soonthat she set the date as early as to-night, " said Doctor Bradford. "Twenty-four hours later would have cut us out. "

Phil interrupted him. "Don't bring up such disagreeable topics at thetable, Bradford. It takes my appetite to think that we have only onemore day in the Valley--that it has come down to a matter of a few hoursbefore we must begin our farewells. "

"Speaking of farewells, " said Rob, "who-all's coming down to the stationwith me to wave good-by to Miss Bonham? She goes back to Lexington thismorning. "

"We'll all go, " answered Lloyd, promptly. "Mothah will be glad to get usout of the way while the servants give the place a grand 'aftah theball' cleaning, and Joyce wants to see the girls once moah befoah shebegins packing, to arrange several things about their journey. "

"How does it happen that Logan and Stanley are not going with MissBonham?" asked Rob. "Isn't their time up, too, or can't they tearthemselves away?"

"I thought you knew, " answered Joyce. "Miss Allison arranged it all lastnight. You know she goes up to Prout's Neck, in Maine, for awhile everysummer, and this year Allison and Kitty are going with her. She hasoffered to take me under her wing all the way, and has arranged herroute to go right past the place where the summer art school is, on CapeCod coast. Lieutenant Logan and Lieutenant Stanley are staying over aday longer than they had intended, in order to go part of the way withus, and Phil and Doctor Bradford are leaving a day earlier to takeadvantage of such good company all the way home. Won't it bejolly, --eight of us! Kitty calls it a regular house-party on wheels. "

"I certainly envy you, " answered Rob. "Miss Allison is the bestchaperone that can be imagined, just like a girl herself; and Allisonand Kitty are as good as a circus any day. I'll wager it didn't takemuch persuading to make Stanley stay over. He hasn't eyes for anythingor anybody but Allison. "

"He had eyes for Bernice Howe the night of Katie Mallard's musicale, "said Betty. "He scarcely left her. "

"Do you know why?" asked Rob in an aside. They were rising from thetable now, strolling out to the chairs and hammocks on the shady porch. He spoke in a low tone as he walked along beside her. 

"It is very ungallant for me to say such a thing, but between you and meand the gate-post, Betty, he was roped into being so attentive. BerniceHowe beats any girl I ever saw for making dates with fellows, andhandling her cards so as to make it seem she is immensely popular. It isan old trick of hers, and that night it was very apparent what she wastrying to do. Alex Shelby was there, you remember, and when she saw himtalking to Lloyd every chance he got, she didn't want it to appear thatshe was being neglected by the man who had brought her, and with alittle skilful manoeuvring she managed to bag the lieutenant'sattention. I've been wanting to ask you for some time, why is it thatshe seems so down on the Little Colonel?"

"She isn't!" declared Betty, much surprised. "You must be letting yourimagination run away with you, Rob. There isn't a girl in the Valleyfriendlier and sweeter to Lloyd than Bernice Howe. You watch them nexttime they are together, and see. They've been good friends for years. "

"Then all I can say is that some girls have a queer idea of friendship. It's downright _catty_ the way they purr and rub around to your face, and then show their spiteful little claws when your back is turned. That's what I've noticed Bernice doing lately. She calls her all thesugary names in the dictionary when she's with her, but when her back isturned--well, it's just a shrug of the shoulders or a lift of theeyebrows or a little twist of the mouth maybe, but they insinuatevolumes. What makes girls do that way, Betty? Boys don't. If they haveany grievance they fight it out and then let each other alone. "

"I'm sure I don't know why, " answered Betty. "I'll be honest with youand confess that you are right. Half the girls at school were that way. They might be fair and high-minded about everything else, but when itcame to that one thing they were--well, as you say, regular cats. Theydidn't have the faintest conception of what a David and Jonathanfriendship could be like. Even the ordinary kind didn't seem to bindthem in any way, or impose any obligation on them when their owninterests were concerned. "

"Deliver me from such friends!" ejaculated Rob. "I'd rather have a swornenemy. He wouldn't do me half the harm. " Then after a pause, "I suppose, if you haven't noticed it, then Lloyd hasn't either, that Bernice isbitterly jealous of her. "

"No, I am sure she has not. "

"Then I wish you'd drop her a hint. I couldn't mention the subject toher, because it is an old fight of ours. You know how we've squabbledfor hours over it--the difference between the codes of honor in a girl'sfriendships and boys'. No matter how carefully I made the distinctionthat I meant the average girl, and not all of them, she always flaredinto a temper, and in order to be loyal to her entire sex, took up armsagainst me in a regular pitched battle. She's ordered me off the placemore than once, and yet in her soul I believe she agrees with me. "

"But, Rob, if that is a pet theory of yours that you go around applyingin a wholesale way, isn't it barely possible that you've made a mistakethis time and imagined that Bernice is two-faced in her friendship?"

Rob shook his head. "She'll be at the station this morning. You can seefor yourself, if you keep your eyes open. "

"Now, to be explicit, just what is it I shall see?" retorted Betty. ButPhil interrupted their tête-à-tête at that point, and when they startedto the station an hour later, her question was still unanswered. BerniceHowe was there, as Rob had predicted, and Katie Mallard and severalother of the Valley girls who had enjoyed the hospitality of The Beechesduring Miss Bonham's visit. 

"It looks quite like a garden-party, " said Miles Bradford to MissAllison, watching the pretty girls, in their light summer costumes, flutter around the waiting-room. "I don't know whether to compare themto a flock of butterflies or a bouquet of sweet peas. I am glad we aregoing to take some of them with us to-morrow, and wish--"

Betty, who had turned to listen, because his smiling glance seemed toinclude her in the conversation, failed to hear what it was he wished. Bernice Howe, who was standing with her back to her, took occasion justthen to draw Miss Bonham aside, and her voice, although pitched in a lowkey, was unusually penetrating. At the same moment the entire partyshifted positions to make room for some new arrivals in thewaiting-room, and Betty was jostled so that she was obliged to dodge acorpulent woman with a carpet-bag and a lunch-basket. When she recoveredher balance she found herself out of range of Doctor Bradford's voice, but almost touching elbows with Bernice. She was saying:

"We're going to miss you dreadfully, Miss Bonham. I always do missAllison's guests and Kitty's nearly as much as my own. They're so dearabout sharing them with me. Now some girls are so stingy, they fairlykeep their visitors under lock and key--that is, if they are men. Theywouldn't dream of taking them to call on another girl. Afraid to, Isuppose. Afraid of losing their own laurels. There's one of the kind. "

Betty saw her nod with a meaning smile toward Lloyd, and caught anothersentence or two in which the words, "Queen of Hearts, tied to herapron-string, " gave her the drift of the remarks. 

"She's plainly trying to give Miss Bonham an unpleasant impression ofLloyd to carry away with her, " thought Betty. "She's hurt because shewasn't invited to the coon hunt, and the other little affairs we had forthe bridal party. She never took it into consideration that what wouldhave been perfectly convenient at another time was out of the questionwhen the house was so full of guests and all torn up with preparationsfor the wedding. Lloyd had all she could do then to think of the guestsin the house, without considering those outside. It certainly is aflimsy sort of a friendship that can't overlook a seeming neglect likethat or make due allowances. Besides, if she feels slighted, why doesn'tshe keep it to herself, and not try to get even by giving Miss Bonham afalse impression of her? Rob is right. Boys don't stoop to such meanlittle things. In the first place they don't magnify trifles into biggrievances, and go around feeling slighted and hurt over nothing. "

"Here comes the train!" called Ranald, seizing Miss Bonham's suit-caseand leading the way to the door. There was a moment of hurriedgood-byes, a fluttering of handkerchiefs, a waving of hats. Then thetrain passed on, leaving the group gazing after it. 

"What are we going to do now?" asked Rob. "Will you all come over to thestore and have some peanuts?"

"No, you're all coming up home with me, " said Lloyd, "Miss Allison andeverybody. I saw Alec carrying some watahmelons into the ice-house, andthey'll be good and cold by this time. We'll cut them out on the lawn. "

Ranald excused himself, saying he had promised to take his Aunt Allisonto the dressmaker's in the pony-cart, but Allison and Kitty promptlyaccepted the invitation for themselves and the two lieutenants. KatieMallard walked on with one and Joyce the other, Rob and Betty bringingup the rear. Lloyd still waited. 

"Come on, Bernice, " she urged. "The watahmelons are mighty fine, andwe'd love to have you come. "

"No, dearie, " was the reply. "I've a lot of things to do to-day, butI'll see you to-night at the darky wedding. "

"I'm mighty sorry you can't come, " called Lloyd, then hurried on tocatch up with the others. As she joined Rob and Betty she feltintuitively they had changed their subject of conversation at herapproach. She had caught the question, "Then are you going to warn her?"and Betty's reply, "What's the use? It would only make her feel bad. "

"What's that about warnings?" asked Lloyd, catching Betty's hand andswinging it as she walked along beside her. 

"Something that Betty doesn't believe in, " began Rob, "just as I don'tbelieve in dreams. Why wouldn't Bernice come with you?"

"She said she had so much to do. Mistah Shelby is coming out latah. Heis going to take her to Sylvia's wedding to-night. "

"Speaking of warnings, " burst out Rob, impulsively, "I'm going to giveyou one, Lloyd, whether you like it or not. Don't be too smiling andgracious when you meet Alex Shelby, or Bernice will be assaulting youfor poaching on her preserves. You must keep out of her bailiwick if youwant to keep her friendship. It's the kind that won't stand much of astrain. "

"What do you mean, Rob Moore?" demanded Lloyd, hesitating between alaugh and the old feeling of anger that always flashed up when hereferred to girls' friendships in that superior tone. 

"I am devoted to Bernice and she is to me. If you are trying to pick aquarrel you may as well go along home, for I'm positively not going tofuss with you about anything whatsoevah until aftah all the company isgone. "

"No'm! I don't want to quarrel, " responded Rob, with exaggeratedmeekness. "I was merely giving you a warning--sort of playing Bansheefor your benefit, but you don't seem to appreciate my efforts. Let'stalk about watermelons. "

CHAPTER XIV. 

A SECOND MAID OF HONOR

It was a new experience to Miles Bradford, this trudging through thedense beech woods on a summer night behind a row of flickering lanterns. The path they followed was a wide one, and well worn by the feet ofchurchgoing negroes, for it was the shortest cut between the Valley andStumptown, a little group of cabins clustered around the colored church. 

Ranald led the way with a brakeman's lantern, and Rob occasionallyilluminated the scene by electric flashes from the head of thewalking-stick he was flourishing. A varied string of fiery dragons, winged fish, and heathen hobgoblins danced along beside them, for Kittywas putting candles in a row of Japanese lanterns when they arrived atThe Beeches, and nearly everybody in the party accepted her invitationto take one. Mary chose a sea-serpent with a grinning face, and Elise apretty oval one with birds and cherry blossoms on each side. Lloyd didnot take any. Her hands were already filled with a huge bouquet of redroses. 

"Sylvia asked me to carry these, " she explained to Miles Bradford, "andto weah a white dress and this hat with the red roses on it. Because Iwas maid of honah at Eugenia's wedding she seems to think I can reflectsome sawt of glory on hers. She said she wanted all her young ladies toweah white. "

"Who are her young ladies, and why?" he asked. 

"Allison, Kitty, Betty, and I. You see, Sylvia's grandfathah was theMacIntyre's coachman befoah the wah, and her mothah is our old AuntCindy. She considahs that she belongs to us and we belong to her. "

Farther down the line they could hear Katie Mallard's cheerful giggle asshe tripped over a beech root, then Bernice Howe's laugh as they allwent slipping and sliding down a steep place in the path which led tothe hollow crossed by the dry creek bed. 

"Sing!" called Miss Allison, who was chaperoning the party, and pickingher way behind the others with Mary and Elise each clinging to an arm. "There's such a pretty echo down in this hollow. Listen!" The tune thatshe started was one of the popular songs of the summer. It was caught upby every one in the procession except Miles Bradford, and he kept silentin order to enjoy this novel pilgrimage to the fullest. The dark woodsrang with the sweet chorus, and the long line of fantastic lanterns sentweird shadows bobbing up in their wake. 

The bare, unpainted little church had just been lighted when theyarrived, and a strong smell of coal-oil and smoking wicks greeted them. 

"It's too bad we are so early, " said Miss Allison. "Sylvia would havepreferred us to come in with grand effect at the last moment, but I'mtoo tired to wait for the bridal party. Let's put our lanterns in thevestibule and go in and find seats. "

A pompous mulatto man in white cotton gloves and with a cluster oftuberoses in his buttonhole ushered the party down the aisle to theseats of honor reserved for the white folks. There were seventeen in theparty, too many to sit comfortably on the two benches, so a chair wasbrought for Miss Allison. After the grown people were seated, each ofthe little girls managed to squeeze in at the end of the seats nearestthe aisle. Lloyd found herself seated between Mary Ware and AlexShelby. Leaning forward to look along the bench, she found that Bernicecame next in order to Alex, then Lieutenant Stanley and Allison, DoctorBradford and Betty. 

She had merely said good evening to Alex Shelby when they met at TheBeeches, and, although positions in the procession through the woods hadshifted constantly, it had happened she had not been near enough to talkwith him. Now, with only Mary Ware to claim her attention, theynaturally fell into conversation. It was only in whispers, for theaudience was assembling rapidly, and the usher had opened the organ intoken that the service was about to begin. 

There had been an attempt to decorate for the occasion. Friends of thebride had resurrected both the Christmas and Easter mottoes, so that thewall behind the pulpit bore in tall, white cotton letters, on abackground of cedar, the words, "Peace on Earth, Good Will to Men. "Fresh cedar had been substituted for the yellowed branches left overfrom the previous Christmas, and fresh diamond dust sprinkled over thegrimy cotton to give it its pristine sparkle of Yule-tide frost. 

"An appropriate motto for a wedding, " whispered Alex Shelby to Lloyd. Only his eyes laughed. His face was as solemn as the usher's own as heturned to gaze at the word "Welcome" over the door, and the fringe ofpaper Easter lilies draping the top of each uncurtained window. 

Bernice claimed his attention several moments, then he turned to Lloydagain. "Do tell me, Miss Lloyd, " he begged, "what is that wonderfullyand fearfully made thing in the front of the pulpit? Is it a doorway ora giant picture-frame? And what part is it to play in the ceremony?"

Lloyd's face dimpled, and an amused smile flashed up at him from thecorner of her eye. Then she lowered her long lashes demurely, and seemedto be engrossed with her bunch of roses as she answered him. 

"The coquettish thing!" thought Bernice, seeing the glance but nothearing the whisper which followed it. 

"Sh! Don't make me laugh! Everybody is watching to see if the whitefolks are making fun of things, and I'm actually afraid to look up againfor feah I'll giggle. Maybe it's a copy of Eugenia's gate of roses. Itlooks like the frame of a doahway. Just the casing, you know. Maybe it'sa doah of mawning-glories they're going to pass through. I recognizethose flowahs twined all around it. We made them a long time ago for thelamp-shades when the King's Daughtahs had an oystah suppah at the manse. I made all those purple mawning-glories and Betty made the yellow ones. "

Glancing over his shoulder, he happened to spy a familiar face behindhim, the kindly old black face of his uncle's cook. 

"Howdy, Aunt Jane!" he exclaimed, with a friendly smile. Then, in astage whisper, he asked, "Aunt Jane, can you tell me? Are thosemorning-glories artificial?"

The old woman wrinkled her face into a knot as she peered in thedirection of the pulpit, toward which he nodded. One of the words in hisquestion puzzled her. It was a stranger to her. But, after an instant, the wrinkles cleared and her face broadened into a smile. 

"No'm, Mistah Alex. Them ain't artificial flowahs, honey. They's made ofpapah. "

Again an amused smile stole out of the corner of Lloyd's eye to answerthe gleam of mischief in Alex's. Not for anything would she have AuntJane think that she was laughing, so her eyes were bent demurely on herroses again. Again Bernice, leaning forward, intercepted the glance andmisinterpreted it. When Alex turned to her to repeat Aunt Jane'sexplanation, she barely smiled, then relapsed into sulky silence. Finding several other attempts at conversation received with onlymonosyllables, he concluded that she was not in a mood to talk, andnaturally turned again to Lloyd. 

He had not been out in the Valley for years, he told her. The last visithe had made to his uncle, old Doctor Shelby, had been the summer thatthe Shermans had come back to Lloydsboro from New York. He rememberedpassing her one day on the road. She had squeezed through a hole in thefence between two broken palings, and was trying to pull a little dogthrough after her; a shaggy Scotch and Skye terrier. 

"That was my deah old Fritz, " she answered, "and I was probably runningaway. I did it every chance I had. "

"The next time I saw you, " he continued, "I was driving along withuncle. I was standing between his knees, I remember, proud as a peacockbecause he was letting me hold the reins. I was just out of kilts, so itwas a great honor to be trusted with the lines. When we passed yourgrandfather on his horse, he had you up in front of his saddle, anduncle called out, 'Good morning, little Colonel. '"

These reminiscences pleased Lloyd. It flattered her to think heremembered these early meetings so many years ago. His relationship tothe old doctor whom she loved as her own uncle put him on a veryfriendly footing. 

The church filled rapidly, and by the time the seats were crowded andpeople were jostling each other to find standing-room around the door, ayoung colored girl in a ruffled yellow dress seated herself at theorgan. First she pulled out all the stops, then adjusting a pair ofeyeglasses, opened a book of organ exercises. Then she felt her sash inthe back, settled her side-combs, and raising herself from the organbench, smoothed her skirts into proper folds under her. After thesepreliminaries she leaned back, raised both hands with a grand flourish, and swooped down on the keys. 

"Bang on the low notes and twiddle on the high!" laughed Lloyd, underher breath. "Listen, Mistah Shelby. She's playing the same chord in thebass straight through. "

"Is that what makes the fearsome discord?" he asked. "It makes me thinkof an epitaph I once saw carved on a pretentious headstone in a littlevillage cemetery:

 "'Here lies one Who never let her left hand know What her right hand done. '"

"Neithah of Laura's hands will evah find out what the othah one istrying to do, " whispered Lloyd. "She is supposed to be playing thewedding-march. Hark! There is a familiah note: '_Heah comes the bride_. 'They must be at the doah. Well, I wish you'd look!"

Every head was turned, for the bridal party was advancing. Slowly downthe aisle came M'haley, in the pink chiffon gown from Paris. Mom Beck'squick needle had altered it considerably, for in some unaccountable waythe slim bodice fashioned to fit Lloyd's slender figure, now fastenedaround M'haley's waist without undue strain. The skirt, though turned"hine side befo', " fell as skirts should fall, for the fulness had beenshifted to the proper places, and the broad sky-blue sash covered themended holes in the breadth Lloyd had torn on the stairs. 

With her head high, and her armful of flowers held in precisely the sameposition in which Lloyd had carried hers, she swept down the aisle insuch exact imitation of the other maid of honor, that every one who hadseen the first wedding was convulsed, and Kitty's whisper about "Lloyd'sunderstudy" was passed with stifled giggles from one to another downboth benches. 

Ca'line Allison came next, in a white dress and the white slippers thathad been thrown after Eugenia's carriage with the rice. 

She was flower girl, and carried an elaborate fancy basket filled withfield daisies. A wreath of the same snowy blossoms crowned her woollypate, and an expression of anxiety drew her little black face into adistressed pucker. She had been told that at every third step she mustthrow a handful of daisies in the path of the on-coming bride, and hereffort to keep count and at the same time keep her balance on the highFrench heels was almost too much for her. 

During her many rehearsals M'haley had counted her steps for her: "One, two, three--_throw_! One, two, three--_throw_!" She had gone through herpart every time without mistake, for her feet were untrammelled then, and her flat yellow soles struck the ground in safety and with rhythmicprecision. She could give her entire mind to the graceful scattering ofher posies. But now she walked as if she were mounted on stilts, and herway led over thin ice. The knowledge that she must keep her own countwas disconcerting, for she could not "count in her haid, " as M'haley hadordered her to do. She was obliged to whisper the numbers loud enoughfor herself to hear. So with her forehead drawn into an anxious pucker, and her lips moving, she started down the aisle whispering, "One, two, three--_throw_! One, two, three--_throw_!" Each time, as she reached theword "throw" and grasped a handful of daisies to suit the action to theword, she tilted forward on the high French heels and almost came to afull stop in her effort to regain her balance. 

But Ca'line Allison was a plucky little body, accustomed to walking thetops of fences and cooning out on the limbs of high trees, so shereached the altar without mishap. Then with a loud sigh of relief shesettled her crown of daisies and rolled her big eyes around to watch themajestic approach of her mother. 

No matron of the four hundred could have swept down the aisle with agrander air than Sylvia. The handsome lavender satin skirt she wore hadonce trailed its way through one of the most elegant receptions evergiven in New York, and afterward had graced several Louisvillefunctions. Its owner had given Sylvia the bodice also, but no amount ofstretching could make it meet around Sylvia's ample figure, so theproceeds of the fish-fry and ice-cream festival had been invested in aready-made silk waist. It was not the same shade of lavender as theskirt, but a gorgeous silver tissue belt blinded one to suchdifferences. The long kid gloves, almost dazzling in their whiteness, were new, the fan borrowed, and the touch of something blue wasfurnished by a broad back-comb of blue enamel surmounted by rhinestones. One white glove rested airily on "Mistah Robinson's" coat-sleeve, theother carried a half-furled fan edged with white feathers. 

M'haley and Ca'line Allison waited at the altar, but the bridal couple, turning to the right, circled around it and mounted the steps leading upinto the pulpit. The mystery of the wooden frame was explained now. Itwas not a symbolical doorway through which they were to pass, but a hugeflower-draped picture-frame in which they took their places, facing thecongregation like two life-sized portraits in charcoal. 

[Illustration: "'ONE, TWO, THREE--_THROW_!'"]

The minister, standing meekly below them between M'haley and Ca'lineAllison, with his back to the congregation, prefaced the ceremony bya long and flowery discourse on matrimony, so that there was ample timefor the spectators to feast their eyes on every detail of the picturebefore them. Except for a slight stir now and then as some neck wascraned in a different position for a better view, the silence wasprofound, until the benediction was pronounced. 

At the signal of a blast from the wheezy organ the couple, slowlyturning, descended the steps. Ca'line Allison, in her haste to reach theaisle ahead of them to begin her posy-throwing again, nearly tiltedforward on her nose. But with a little crow-hop she righted herself andbegan her spasmodic whispering, "One, two, three--_throw_!"

After the couple came M'haley and the pompous young minister. ThenLloyd, who had caught the bride's smile of gratification as her eyesrested on the white dress and red roses of this guest of honor, and whoread the appealing glance that seemed to beckon her, rose and steppedinto line. The rest of Sylvia's young ladies immediately followed, andthe congregation waited until all the rest of the white folks passedout, before crowding to the carriage to congratulate "Brothah and SistahRobinson. "

Lloyd went on to the carriage to speak to Sylvia and give her thearmful of roses to decorate the wedding-feast, before joining theothers, who were lighting the lanterns for their homeward walk. 

"You'd better come in the light of ours, Miss Lloyd, " said Alex Shelby, coming up to her with Bernice beside him. "We might as well take thelead. Ranald seems to be having trouble with his wick. "

Lloyd hesitated, remembering Rob's warning, but glancing behind her, shesaw Phil hurrying toward her, and abruptly decided to accept hisinvitation. She knew that Phil was trying to arrange to walk home withher. This would be his last opportunity to walk with her, and while sheknew that he would respect her promise to her father enough not toinfringe on it by talking openly of his regard for her, his constanthints and allusions would keep her uncomfortable. He seemed to take itfor granted that she was bound to come around to this point of view someday, and regard him as the one the stars had destined for her. 

So it was merely to escape a tête-à-tête with Phil which made her walkalong beside Alex, and put out a hand to draw Mary Ware to the otherside. She linked arms with her as they pushed through the crowd, andstarted down the road four abreast. But the fences were lined withbuggies and wagons, and the scraping wheels and backing horses kept themconstantly separating and dodging back and forth across the road, moreoften singly than in pairs. 

By the time they reached the gap in the fence where the path through thewoods began, the others had caught up with them, and they all scrambledthrough in a bunch. Lloyd looked around, and, with a sensation ofrelief, saw that Kitty had Phil safely in tow. She would be free as faras The Beeches, at any rate. At a call from Elise, Mary ran back to joinher. Positions were being constantly shifted on the homeward way, justas they had been before, and, looking around, Lloyd decided that shewould slip back presently with some of the others, who would not thinkthat two is company and three a crowd, as Bernice might be doing. Thebackward glance nearly caused her a fall, for a big root in the pathmade her ankle turn, and Alex Shelby's quick grasp of her elbow was allthat saved her. 

"It was my fault, Miss Lloyd, " he insisted. "I should have held thelantern differently. There, I'll go slightly ahead and light the pathbetter. Can you see all right, Bernice?"

"Yes, " she answered, shortly, out of humor that he should be as carefulof Lloyd's comfort as her own. She trudged along, taking no part in theconversation. It was a general one, extending all along the line, forRob at the tail and Ranald at the head shouted jokes and questions backand forth like end-men at a minstrel show. Laughing allusions to themaid of honor and Ca'line Allison were bandied back and forth, and whenthe line grew unusually straggling, Kitty would bring them into stepwith her, "One, two, three--_throw_!"

Neither Lloyd nor Alex noticed the determined silence in which Bernicestalked along, and when she presently slipped back with the excuse thatshe wanted to speak to Katie, they scarcely missed her. There wasnothing unusual in the action, as all the others were changing companyat intervals. At the entrance-gate to The Beeches she joined them again, for her nearest road home led through the Walton place, and they were topart company here with Lloyd and her guests. 

For a few minutes there was a babel of good-nights and parting sallies, in the midst of which Alex Shelby managed to say to Lloyd in a low tone, "Miss Lloyd, I am coming out to the Valley again a week from to-day. Ifyou haven't any engagement for the afternoon will you gohorseback-riding with me?"

The consciousness that Bernice had heard the invitation and wasdispleased, confused her so that for a moment she lost her usual ease ofmanner. She wanted to go, and there was no reason why she should notaccept, but all she could manage to stammer was an embarrassed, "Why, yes--I suppose so. " But the next instant recovering herself, she added, graciously, "Yes, Mistah Shelby, I'll be glad to go. "

"Come on, Lloyd, " urged Betty, swinging her hand to pull her into thegroup now drawn up on the side of the road ready to start. They had madetheir adieux. 

"All right, " she answered, locking arms with Betty. "Good night, MistahShelby. Good night, Bernice. "

He acknowledged her nod with a courteous lifting of his hat, andrepeated her salutation. But Bernice, standing stiff and angry in thestarlight, turned on her heel without a response. 

"What on earth do you suppose is the mattah with Bernice?" exclaimedLloyd, in amazement, as they turned into the white road leading towardhome. 

CHAPTER XV. 

THE END OF THE HOUSE-PARTY

With the desire to make this last walk together as pleasant as possible, Lloyd immediately put Bernice out of her mind as far as she was able. But she could not rid herself entirely of the recollection thatsomething disagreeable had happened. The impression bore down on herlike a heavy cloud, and was a damper on her high spirits. Outwardly shewas as gay as ever, and when the walk was over, led the party on aforaging expedition to the pantry. 

Rob and Phil were almost uproarious in their merriment now, and, as theydevoured cold baked ham, pickles, cheese, beaten biscuit, and cake, theyhad a fencing-match with carving-knives, and gave a ridiculous parody ofthe balcony scene in "Romeo and Juliet. " Mary, looking on with asandwich in each hand, almost choked with laughter, although she, too, was borne down by the same feeling that depressed Lloyd, of somethingvery disagreeable having happened. 

She had been so ruffled in spirit all the way home that she had laggedbehind the others, and it was only when Rob and Phil began theirirresistible foolishness that she had forgotten her grievance longenough to laugh. No sooner had they all gone up-stairs, and she wasalone with Joyce, than her indignation waxed red-hot again, and shesputtered out the whole story to her sister. 

"And, " she said, in conclusion, "that hateful Bernice Howe said themeanest things to Katie. Elise and I were walking just behind, and wecouldn't help hearing. She said that Lloyd had deliberately set to workto flirt with Mr. Shelby, and get him to pay her attention, and that, ifKatie would watch, she'd soon see how it would be. He'd be going to seeLloyd all the time instead of her. "

"Sh!" warned Joyce. "They'll hear you all over the house. Your voice isgetting higher and higher. "

Her warning came too late. Already several sentences had penetrated intothe next room, and a quick knock at the door was followed by theentrance of Lloyd, looking as red and excited as Mary. 

"Tell me what it was, Mary, " she demanded. "What made Bernice act so? Iwas sure you knew from the way you looked when you joined us. "

Mary was almost in tears as she repeated what she had told Joyce, forshe could see that the Little Colonel's temper was rising to white heat. 

"And Bernice said it wasn't the first time you had treated her so. Shesaid that Malcolm MacIntyre was so attentive to her last summer whileyou were away at the Springs; that he sent her flowers and candy andtook her driving, and was like her very shadow until you came home. Thenhe dropped her like a hot potato, and you monopolized him so that yousucceeded in keeping him away from her altogether. "

"Malcolm!" gasped Lloyd. "Malcolm was my especial friend long befoah Ievah heard of Bernice Howe! Why, at the very first Valentine pahty Ievah went to, he gave me the little silvah arrow he won in the archerycontest, for me to remembah him by. I've got it on this very minute. "

She put her hand up to the little silver pin that fastened the lace ofher surplice collar. "Malcolm _always has_ called himself my devotedknight, and he--"

She paused. There were some things she could not repeat; that scene onthe churchyard stile the winter day they went for Christmas greens, whenhe had begged her for a talisman, and his low-spoken reply, "I'll bewhatever you want me to be, Lloyd. " There were other times, too, ofwhich she could not speak. The night of the tableaux was the last one, when she had strolled down the moonlighted paths with him at TheBeeches, and he had insisted that it was the "glad morrow" by hiscalendar, and time for her Sir Feal to tell her many things, especiallyas he was going away for the rest of the summer on a long yachting trip, and somebody else might tell her the same things in his absence. So manyyears she had taken his devotion as a matter of course, that it provokedher beyond measure to have Bernice insinuate that she had angled for it. 

Lloyd knew girls who did such things; who delighted in proving that theyhad a superior power of attraction, and who would not scruple to use allsorts of mean little underhand ways to lessen a man's admiration forsome other girl, and appropriate it for themselves. She had even heardsome of the girls at school boast of such things. 

"For pity's sake, Lloyd!" one of them had said, "don't look at me thatway. 'All's fair in love and war, ' and a girl's title to popularity isbased on the number of scalp-locks she takes. "

Lloyd had despised her for that speech, and now to have Bernice openlysay that she was capable of such an action was more than she couldendure calmly. She set her teeth together hard, and gripped the littlefan she still happened to be carrying, as if it were some live thing shewas trying to strangle. 

"And she said, " Mary added, slowly, reluctant to add fuel to the flame, yet unable to withstand the impelling force of Lloyd's eyes, whichdemanded the whole truth, "she said that she had been sure for some timethat Mr. Shelby was just on the verge of proposing to her, and that, ifyou succeeded in playing the same game with him that you did withMalcolm, she'd get even with you if it took her till her dying day. Then, right on top of that, you know, she heard him ask if you'd gohorseback riding with him. So that's why she was so angry she wouldn'tbid you good night. "

Lloyd's clenched hand tightened its grasp on the fan till the delicatesticks crunched against each other. She was breathing so hard that thelittle arrow on her dress rose and fell rapidly. The silence was sointense that Mary was frightened. She did not know what kind of anoutburst to expect. All of a sudden, taking the fan in both hands, Lloydsnapped it in two, and then breaking the pieces into a hundredsplinters, threw them across the room into the open fireplace. She stoodwith her back to the girls a moment, then, to Mary's unspeakableastonishment, forced herself to speak as calmly as if nothing hadhappened, asking Joyce some commonplace question about her packing. There was a book she wanted her to slip into her trunk to read at theseashore. She was afraid it would be forgotten if left till next day, soshe went to her room to get it. 

As the door closed behind her, Mary turned to Joyce in amazement. "Idon't see how it was possible for her to get over her temper soquickly, " she exclaimed. "The change almost took my breath. "

"She isn't over it, " answered Joyce. "She simply got it under control, and it will smoulder a long time before it's finally burnt out. She'sdreadfully hurt, for she and Bernice have been friends so long that sheis really fond of her. Nothing hurts like being misunderstood andmisconstrued in that way. It is the last thing in the world that _Lloyd_would do--suspect a friend of mean motives. From what I've seen ofBernice, she is an uncomfortable sort of a friend to have; one of thesensitive, suspicious kind that's always going around with her feelingsstuck out for somebody to tread on. She's always looking for slights, and when she doesn't get real ones, she imagines them, which is just asbad. "

If Lloyd's anger burned next morning, there was no trace of it either inface or manner, and she made that last day one long to be remembered byher departing guests. 

"How lonesome it's going to be aftah you all leave, " she said to Joyce. "The rest of the summah will be a stupid anticlimax. The house-pahty andthe wedding should have come at the last end of vacation instead of thefirst, then we would have had something to look forward to all summah, and could have plunged into school directly aftah it. "

"This July and August will be the quietest we have ever known at TheLocusts, " chimed in Betty. "Allison and Kitty leave to-night with youall, Malcolm and Keith are already gone, and Rob will be here only a fewdays longer. That's the last straw, to have Rob go. "

"What's that about yours truly?" asked Rob, coming out of the house andbeginning to fan himself with his hat as he dropped down on the porchstep. 

"I was just saying that we shall miss you so much this summer. Thatyou're always our stand-by. It's Rob who gets up the rides and picnics, and comes over and stirs us out of our laziness by making us go fishingand walking and tennis-playing. I'm afraid we'll simply go into ourshells and stay there after you go. "

"Ah, ha! You do me proud, " he answered, with a mocking sweep of his hat. "'Tis sweet to be valued at one's true worth. Don't think for a momentthat I would leave you to pine on the stem if I could have my own way. But I'm my mother's angel baby-boy. She and daddy think thatgrandfather's health demands a change of air, and they are loath toleave me behind. So, unwilling to deprive them of the apple of theirseveral eyes, I have generously consented to accompany them. But youneedn't pine for company, " he added, with a mischievous glance at Lloyd. "Alex Shelby expects to spend most of the summer with the old doctor, and he'll be a brother to you all, if you'll allow it. "

Lloyd made no answer, so he proceeded to make several more teasingremarks about Alex, not knowing what had taken place before. He evenventured to repeat the warning about her keeping within her ownbailiwick, as Bernice's friendship was not the kind that could standmuch strain. 

To his surprise Lloyd made no answer, but, setting her lips togetherangrily, rose and went into the house, her head high and her cheeksflushed. 

"Whew!" he exclaimed, with a soft whistle. "What hornet's nest have Istirred up now?"

Joyce and Betty exchanged glances, each waiting for the other to makethe explanation. Then Joyce asked: "Didn't you see the way Bernicesnubbed her last night at the gate, when we left The Beeches?"

"Nary a snub did I see. It must have happened when I was groping aroundin the path for something that I had flipped out of my pocket with myhandkerchief. It rang on the ground like a piece of money, and I fearedme I had lost one of me ducats. What did she do?"

"I can't tell you now, " said Joyce, hurriedly, lowering her voice. "Herecome Phil and Doctor Bradford. "

"No matter, " he answered, airily. "I have no curiosity whatsoever. It'sa trait of character entirely lacking in my make-up. " Then he motionedtoward Mary, who was sitting in a hammock, cutting the pages of a newmagazine. "Does _she_ know?"

Joyce nodded, and feeling that they meant her, Mary looked upinquiringly. Rob beckoned to her ingratiatingly. 

"Come into the garden, Maud, " he said in a low tone. "I would havespeech with thee. "

Laughing at his foolishness, but in a flutter of pleasure, Mary sprangup to follow him to the rustic seat midway down the avenue. As Joyce'sparting glance had not forbidden it, she was soon answering hisquestions to the best of her ability. 

"You see, " he explained, "it's not out of curiosity that I ask all this. It's simply as a means of precaution. I can't keep myself out of hotwater unless I know how the land lies. "

That last day of the house-party seemed the shortest of all. Betty andMiles Bradford strolled over to Tanglewood and sat for more than an houron the shady stile leading into the churchyard. Lloyd and Phil went fora last horseback ride, and Mary, watching them canter off together downthe avenue, wondered curiously if he would have anything more to sayabout the bit of turquoise and all it stood for. 

As she followed Joyce up-stairs to help her pack her trunk, a littlewave of homesickness swept over her. Not that she wanted to go back tothe Wigwam, but to have Joyce go away without her was like parting withthe last anchor which held her to her family. It gave her a lonelyset-adrift feeling to be left behind. She took her sister's partinginjunctions and advice with a meekness that verged so nearly on tearsthat Joyce hastened to change the subject. 

"Think of all the things I'll have to tell you about when I get backfrom the seashore. Only two short months, --just eight little weeks, --butI'm going to crowd them so full of glorious hard work that I'llaccomplish wonders. There'll be no end of good times, too: clambakes andfishing and bathing to fill up the chinks in the days, and thestory-telling in the evenings around the driftwood fires. It will beover before we know it, and I'll be back here ready to take you homebefore you have time to really miss me. "

Cheered by Joyce's view of the subject, Mary turned her back a momenttill she had winked away the tears that had begun to gather, thenstraightway started out to make the most of the eight little weeks leftto her at The Locusts. When she went with the others to the station "togive the house-party on wheels a grand send-off, " as Kitty expressed it, her bright little face was so happy that it brought a smiling responsefrom every departing guest. 

"Good-by, Miss Mary, " Miles Bradford said, cordially, coming up to herin the waiting-room. "The Pilgrim Father has much to thank you for. Youhave helped him to store up some very pleasant memories of this happyValley. "

"Good-by, little Vicar, " said Phil next, seizing both her hands. "Thinkof the Best Man whenever you look at the Philip on your shilling, andthink of his parting words. _Do_ profit by that dreadful dream, anddon't take any rash steps that would lead to another cat-fight. We'lltake care of your sister, " he added, as Mary turned to Joyce and threwher arms around her neck for one last kiss. 

"Lieutenant Logan will watch out for her as far as he goes, and I'llkeep my eagle eye on her the rest of the way. "

"Who'll keep an eagle eye on you?" retorted Mary, following them out tothe platform. 

He made a laughing grimace over his shoulder, as he turned to help Joyceup the steps. 

"What a good time they are going to have together, " thought Mary, watching the group as they stood on the rear platform of the last car, waving good-by. "And what a different parting this is from that otherone on the desert when he went away with such a sorry look in his eyes. "He was facing the future eagerly this time, strong in hope and purpose, and she answered the last wave of his hat with a flap of herhandkerchief, which seemed to carry with it all the loyal good wishesthat shone in her beaming little face. 

Miles Bradford had made a hurried trip to the city that morning, toattend to a matter of business, going in on the ten o'clock trolley andcoming back in time for lunch. On his return, he laid a package inMary's lap, and handed one to each of the other girls. Joyce's was apile of new July magazines to read on the train. Lloyd's was a copy of"Abdallah, or the Four-leaved Shamrock, " which had led to so muchdiscussion the morning of the wedding, when they hunted clovers for thedream-cake boxes. 

Mary's eyes grew round with surprise and delight when she opened herpackage and found inside the white paper and gilt cord a big box ofHuyler's candies. "With the compliments of the Pilgrim Father, " waspencilled on the engraved card stuck under the string. 

There was layer after layer of chocolate creams and caramels, marshmallows and candied violets, burnt almonds and nougat, besides ascore of other things--specimens of the confectioner's art for which sheknew no name. She had seen the outside of such boxes in the show-casesin Phoenix, but never before had such a tempting display met her eyesas these delicious sweets in their trimmings of lace paper and tinfoiland ribbons, crowned by a pair of little gilt tongs, with which onemight make dainty choice. 

Betty's gift was not so sightly. It looked like an old dried sponge, forit was only a ball of matted roots. But she held it up with anexclamation of pleasure. "Oh, it is one of those fern-balls we weretalking about this morning! I've been wanting one all year. You see, "she explained to Mary, when she had finished thanking Doctor Bradford, "you hang it up in a window and keep it wet, and it turns into a perfectlittle hanging garden, so fine and green and feathery it's fit forfairy-land. It will grow as long as you remember to water it. GayMelville had one last year in her window at school, and I envied herevery time I saw it. "

"Now what does that make me think of?" said Mary, screwing up herforehead into a network of wrinkles and squinting her eyes half-shut inher effort to remember. "Oh, I know! It's something I read in a paper afew days ago. It's in China or Japan, I don't know which, but in one ofthose heathen countries. When a young man wants to find out if a girlreally likes him, he goes to her house early in the dawn, and leaves agrowing plant on the balcony for her. If she spurns him, she tears it upby the roots and throws it out in the street to wither, and I believebreaks the pot; but if she likes him, she takes it in and keeps itgreen, to show that he lives in her memory. "

A shout of laughter from Rob and Phil had made her turn to stare at themuneasily. "What are you laughing at?" she asked, innocently. "I _did_read it. I can show you the paper it is in, and I thought it was a rightbright way for a person to find out what he wanted to know withoutasking. "

It was very evident that she hadn't the remotest idea she had saidanything personal, and her ignorance of the cause of their mirth madeher speech all the funnier. Doctor Bradford laughed, too, as he saidwith a formal bow: "I hope you will take the suggestion to heart, MissBetty, and let my memory and the fern-ball grow green together. "

Then, Mary, realizing what she had said when it was too late to unsayit, clapped her hands over her mouth and groaned. Apologies could onlymake the matter worse, so she tried to hide her confusion by passingaround the box of candy. It passed around so many times during thecourse of the afternoon that the box was almost empty by train-time. Mary returned to it with unabated interest after the guests were gone. It was the first box of candy she had ever owned, and she wondered ifshe would ever have another. 

"I believe I'll save it for a keepsake box, " she thought, gathering itup in her arms to follow Betty up-stairs. Rob had come back with themfrom the station, and, taking the story of "Abdallah, " he and Lloyd hadgone to the library to read it together. 

Betty was going to her room to put the fern-ball to soak, according todirections. Feeling just a trifle lonely since her parting from Joyce, Mary wandered off to the room that seemed to miss her, too, now thatall her personal belongings had disappeared from wardrobe anddressing-table. But she was soon absorbed in arranging her keepsake box. Emptying the few remaining scraps of candy into a paper bag, shesmoothed out the lace paper, the ribbons, and the tinfoil to save toshow to Hazel Lee. These she put in her trunk, but the gilt tongs seemedworthy of a place in the box. The Pilgrim Father's card was dropped inbeside it, then the heart-shaped dream-cake box, holding one of thewhite icing roses that had ornamented the bride's cake. Last and mostprecious was the silver shilling, which she polished carefully with herchamois-skin pen-wiper before putting away. 

"I don't need to look at _you_ to make me think of the Best Man, " shesaid to the Philip on the coin. "There's more things than you thatremind me of him. I certainly would like to know what sort of a fate youare going to bring me. There's about as much chance of my being anheiress as there is of that nightmare coming true. "

CHAPTER XVI. 

THE GOLDEN LEAF OF HONOR

It was a compliment that changed the entire course of Mary's summer; acompliment which Betty gleefully repeated to her, imitating the oldColonel's very tone, as he gesticulated emphatically to Mr. Sherman:

"I tell you, Jack, she's the most remarkable child of her age I evermet. It is wonderful the information she has managed to pick up in thatGod-forsaken desert country. I say to you, sir, she can tell you as muchnow about scientific bee-culture as any naturalist you ever knew. Actually quoted Huber to me the other day, and Maeterlinck's 'Life ofthe Bee!' Think of a fourteen-year-old girl quoting Maeterlinck! Withthe proper direction in her reading, she need never see the inside of acollege, for her gift of observation amounts to a talent, and she has itin her to make herself not only an honor to her sex, but one of the mostinteresting women of her generation. "

Mary looked up in blank amazement when Betty danced into the library, hat in hand, and repeated what the old Colonel had just said in herhearing. Compliments were rare in Mary's experience, and this one, coming from the scholarly old gentleman of whom she stood in awe, agitated her so much that three successive times she ran her needle intoher finger, instead of through the bead she was trying to impale on itspoint. The last time it pricked so sharply that she gave a nervous jerkand upset the entire box of beads on the floor. 

"See how stuck-up that made me, " she said, with an embarrassed laugh, shaking a tiny drop of blood from her finger before dropping on herknees to grope for the beads, which were rolling all over the polishedfloor. "It's so seldom I hear a compliment that I haven't learned totake them gracefully. "

"Godmother is waiting in the carriage for me, " said Betty, pinning onher hat as she spoke, "or I'd help you pick them up. I just hurried into tell you while it was fresh in my mind, and I could remember theexact words. I had no idea it would upset you so, " she added, mischievously. 

Left to herself, Mary soon gathered the beads back into the box andresumed her task. She was making a pair of moccasins for GirlieDinsmore's doll. Her conscience still troubled her for playing stork, and she had resolved to spend some of her abundant leisure in makingamends in this way. But only her fingers took up the same work that hadoccupied her before Betty's interruption. Her thoughts started off in anentirely different direction. 

A most romantic little day-dream had been keeping pace with herbead-stringing. A day-dream through which walked a prince with eyes likeRob's and a voice like Phil's, and the wealth of a Croesus in hispockets. And he wrote sonnets to her and called her his ladye fair, andgave her not only one turquoise, but a bracelet-ful. 

Now every vestige of sentiment was gone, and she was sitting up straightand eager, repeating the old Colonel's words. They were making herunspeakably happy. "She has it in her to make herself not only an honorto her sex, but one of the most interesting women of her generation. ""To make herself an honor, "--why, that would be winning the third leafof the magic shamrock--the _golden_ one! Betty had said that shebelieved that every one who earned those first three leaves was sure tofind the fourth one waiting somewhere in the world. It wouldn't makeany difference then whether she was an old maid or not. She need not bedependent on any prince to bring her the diamond leaf, and that was agood thing, for down in her heart she had her doubts about one evercoming to her. She loved to make up foolish little day-dreams aboutthem, but it would be too late for him to come when she was agrandmother, and she wouldn't be beautiful till then, so she really hadno reason to expect one. It would be much safer for her to depend onherself, and earn the first three in plain, practical ways. 

"To make herself an honor. " The words repeated themselves again andagain, as she rapidly outlined an arrow-head on the tiny moccasin inamber and blue. Suddenly she threw down the needle and the bit of kidand sprang to her feet. "_I'll do it!_" she said aloud. 

As she took a step forward, all a-tingle with a new ambition and a firmresolve, she came face to face with her reflection in one of thepolished glass doors of the bookcase. The intent eagerness of its gazeseemed to challenge her. She lifted her head as if the victory werealready won, and confronted the reflection squarely. "I'll do it!" shesaid, solemnly to the resolute eyes in the glass door. "You see if Idon't!"

Only that morning she had given a complacent glance to the long shelvesof fiction, with which she expected to while away the rest of thesummer. There would be other pleasant things, she knew, drives with Mrs. Sherman, long tramps with the girls, and many good times with EliseWalton; but there would still be left hours and hours for her to spendin the library, going from one to another of the famous novelists, likea bee in a flower garden. 

"With the proper direction in her reading, " the old Colonel had said, and Mary knew without telling that she would not find the properbeginning among the books of fiction. Instinctively she felt she mustturn to the volumes telling of real people and real achievements. Biographies, journals, lives, and letters of women who had been, as theColonel said, an honor to their sex and the most interesting of theirgeneration. She wished that she dared ask him to choose the first bookfor her, but she hadn't the courage to venture that far. So she chose atrandom. 

"Lives of Famous Women" was the volume that happened to attract herfirst, a collection of short sketches. She took it from the shelf andglanced through it, scanning a page here and there, for she was a rapidreader. Then, finding that it bade fair to be entertaining, down shedropped on the rug, and began at the preface. Lunch stopped her forawhile, but, thoroughly interested, she carried the book up to her roomand immediately began to read again. 

When she went down to the porch before dinner that evening, she did notsay to herself in so many words that maybe the Colonel would notice whatshe was reading, but it was with the hope that he would that she carriedthe book with her. He did notice, and commended her for it, but threwher into a flutter of confusion by asking her what similarity she hadnoticed in the lives of those women she was reading about. 

It mortified her to be obliged to confess that she had not discoveredany, and she thought, as she nervously fingered the pages and lookeddown at her toes, "That's what I got for trying to appear smarter than Ireally am. "

"This is what I meant, " he began, in his didactic way. "Each of themmade a specialty of some one thing, and devoted all her energies toaccomplishing that purpose, whether it was the establishing of a salon, the discovery of a star, or the founding of a college. They hit thebull's-eye, because they aimed at no other spot on the target. I have nopatience with this modern way of a girl's taking up a dozen fads at atime. It makes her a jack-at-all-trades and a master of none. "

The Colonel was growing eloquent on one of his favorite topics now, andpresently Mary found him giving her the very guidance she had longedfor. He was helping her to a choice. By the time dinner was announced, he had awakened two ambitions within her, although he was not consciousof the fact himself. One was to study the strange insect life of thedesert, in which she was already deeply interested, to unlock itstreasures, unearth its secrets, and add to the knowledge the world hadalready amassed, until she should become a recognized authority on thesubject. The other was to prove by her own achievements the truth ofsomething which the Colonel quoted from Emerson. It flattered her thathe should quote Emerson to her, a mere child, as if she were one of hispeers, and she wished that Joyce could have been there to hear it. 

This was the sentence: "_If a man can write a better book, preach abetter sermon, or make a better mouse-trap than his neighbor, though hebuild his house in the woods, the world will make a beaten track to hisdoor_. "

Mary did not yet know whether the desert would yield her the materialfor a book or a mouse-trap, but she determined that no matter what sheundertook, she would force the world to "make a beaten track to herdoor. " The first step was to find out how much had already beendiscovered by the great naturalists who had gone before her, in orderthat she might take a step beyond them. With that in view, she plungedinto the course of study that the Colonel outlined for her with the sameenergy and dogged determination which made her a successful killer ofsnakes. 

Lloyd came upon her the third morning after the breaking up of thehouse-party, sitting in the middle of the library floor, surrounded byencyclopædias and natural histories. She was verifying in the books allthat she had learned by herself in the desert of the habits of trap-doorspiders, and she was so absorbed in her task that she did not look up. 

Lloyd slipped out of the room without disturbing her, wishing she couldplunge into some study as absorbing, --something that would take hermind from the thoughts which had nagged her like a persistent mosquitofor the last few days. She knew that she had done nothing to giveBernice just cause for taking offence, and it hurt her to bemisunderstood. 

"If it were anything else, " she mused, as she strolled up and down underthe locusts, "I could go to her and explain. But explanation isimpossible in a case of this kind. It would sound too conceited foranything for me to tell her what I know to be the truth about Malcolm'sattentions to her, and as for the othah--" she shrugged her shoulders. "It would be hopeless to try that. Oh, if I could only talk it ovah withmothah or Papa Jack!" she sighed. 

But they had gone away immediately after the house-party, for a week'souting in the Tennessee mountains. She could have gone to hergrandfather for advice on most questions, but this was too intangiblefor her to explain to him. Betty, too, was as much puzzled as herself. 

"I declare, " she said, when appealed to, "I don't know what to tell you, Lloyd. It's going to be such a dull summer with everybody gone, and AlexShelby is so nice in every way, it does seem unfair for you to have toput such a desirable companionship from you just on account of anothergirl's jealousy. On the other hand, Bernice is an old playmate, and youcan't very well ignore the claims of such a long-time friendship. Shehas misjudged and misrepresented you, and the opportunity is yours, ifyou will take it, to show her how mistaken she is in your character. "

Now, as Lloyd reached the end of the avenue and stopped in front of thegate, her face brightened. Katie Mallard was hurrying down the railroadtrack, waving her parasol to attract her attention. 

"I can't come in, " she called, as she came within speaking distance. "I'm out delivering the most informal of invitations to the mostinformal of garden-parties to-morrow afternoon. I want you and Betty tohelp receive. "

"Who else is going to help?" asked Lloyd, when she had cordiallyaccepted the invitation for herself and Betty. 

"Nobody. I had intended to have Bernice Howe, and went up there awhileago to ask her. She said maybe she'd come, but she certainly wouldn'thelp receive if you were going to. She's dreadfully down on you, Lloyd. "

"Yes, I know it. I've heard some of the catty things she said about mybreaking up the friendship between her and Malcolm. It's simply absurd, and it makes me so boiling mad every time I think about it that I feellike a smouldering volcano. There aren't any words strong enough torelieve my mind. I'd like to thundah and lighten at her. "

"Yes, it is absurd, " agreed Katie. "I told her so too. I told her thatMalcolm always had thought more of you than any girl in the Valley, andalways would. And she said, well, you had no 'auld lang syne' claim onAlex, and that if he once got started to going to Locust you'd soon havehim under your thumb as you do every one else, and that would be the endof the affair for her. "

"As if I were an old spidah, weaving webs for everybody that comesalong!" cried Lloyd, indignantly. "She's no right to talk that way. "

"I think it's because she really cares so much, and not that she does itto be spiteful, " said Katie. "She hasn't a bit of pride about hiding herfeeling for him. She openly cried about it while she was talking to me. "

"What do you think I ought to do?" asked Lloyd, with a troubled face. "Ilike Mistah Shelby evah so much, and I'd like to be nice to him for theold doctah's sake if for no othah reason, for I'm devoted to _him_. AndI really would enjoy seeing him often, especially now when everybodyelse is gone or going for the rest of the summah. Besides, he'd think itmighty queah for me to write to him not to come next Thursday. But I'dhate to really interfere with Bernice's happiness, if it has grown to besuch a serious affair with her that she can cry about it. I'd hate tohave her going through the rest of her life thinking that I haddeliberately wronged her, and if she's breaking her heart ovah it"--shestopped abruptly. 

"Oh, I don't see that you have any call to do the grand renouncing act!"exclaimed Katie. "Why should you cut yourself off from a good time and agood friend by snubbing him? It will put you in a very unpleasant light, for you couldn't explain without making Bernice appear a perfect ninny. And if you don't explain, what will he think of you? Let me tell you, itis more than she would do for you if you were in her place. Somehow, with us girls, life seems like a game of 'Hold fast all I give you. 'What falls into your hands is yours by right of the game, and you've nocall to hand it over to the next girl because she whimpers that shewants to be 'it. ' Don't you worry. Go on and have a good time. "

With that parting advice Katie hurried away, and Lloyd was left to paceup and down the avenue more undecided than before. It was late in theafternoon of the next day when she finally found the answer to herquestion. She had been wandering around the drawing-room, glancing intoa book here, rearranging a vase of flowers there, turning over the pileof music on the piano, striking aimless chords on the harp-strings. 

Presently she paused in front of the mantel to lift the lid from therose-jar and let its prisoned sweetness escape into the room. As she didso she glanced up into the eyes of the portrait above her. With awhimsical smile she thought of the times before when she had come to itfor counsel, and the question half-formed itself on her lips: "Whatwould _you_ do, you beautiful Grandmother Amanthis?"

Instantly there came into her mind the memory of a winter day when shehad stood there in the firelight before it, stirred to the depths by themusic this one of "the choir invisible" had made of her life, by herpurpose to "ease the burden of the world"--"to live in scorn ofmiserable aims that end with self. "

Now like an audible reply to her question the eyes of the portraitseemed to repeat that last sentence to her: "_To live in scorn ofmiserable aims that end with self!_"

For a moment she stood irresolute, then dropping the lid on the rose-jaragain, she crossed over into the next room and sat down beside thelibrary table. It was no easy task to write the note she had decided tosend. Five different times she got half-way through, tore the page intwo and tossed it into the waste-basket. Each attempt seemed so stiffand formal that she was disgusted with it. Nearly an hour passed in theeffort. She could not write the real reason for breaking her engagementfor the ride, and she could not express too much regret, or he wouldmake other occasions she would have to refuse, if she followed out thecourse she had decided upon, to give Bernice no further occasion forjealousy. It was the most difficult piece of composition she had everattempted, and she was far from pleased with the stiff little note whichshe finally slipped into its envelope. 

"It will have to do, " she sighed, wearily, "but I know he will think Iam snippy and rude, and I can't beah for him to have that opinion ofme. "

In the very act of sealing the envelope she hesitated again with Katie'swords repeating themselves in her ears: "It's more than she would dofor you, if you were in her place. "

While she hesitated there came a familiar whistle from somewhere in theback of the house. She gave the old call in answer, and the next momentRob came through the dining-room into the hall, and paused in thelibrary door. 

"I've made my farewells to the rest of the family, " he announced, abruptly. "I met Betty and Mary down in the orchard as I cut across lotsfrom home. Now I've got about five minutes to devote to the last sadrites with you. "

"Yes, we're going on the next train, " he answered, when her amazedquestion stopped him. "The family sprung the surprise on me just alittle while ago. It seems the doctor thought grandfather ought to go atonce, so they've hurried up arrangements, and we'll be off in a fewhours, two days ahead of the date they first set. "

Startled by the abruptness of his announcement, Lloyd almost dropped thehot sealing-wax on her fingers instead of the envelope. His haste seemedto communicate itself to her, for, springing up, she stood with one handpressing her little signet ring into the wax, while the other reachedfor the stamp-box. 

"I'll be through in half a second, " she said. "This lettah should havegone off yestahday. If you will post it on the train for me it will savetime and get there soonah. "

"All right, " he answered. "Come on and walk down to the gate with me, and we'll stop at the measuring-tree. We can't let the old custom go bywhen we've kept it up so many years, and I won't be back again thisvacation. "

Swinging the letter back and forth to make sure that the ink was dry, she walked along beside him. "Oh, I wish you weren't going away!" sheexclaimed, forlornly. "It's going to be dreadfully stupid the rest ofthe summah. "

They reached the measuring-tree, and taking out his knife andpocket-rule, Rob passed his fingers over the notches which stood for themany years they had measured their heights against the old locust. Thenhe held out the rule and waited for her to take her place under it, withher back against the tree. 

"What a long way you've stretched up between six and seventeen, " hesaid. "This'll be about the last time we'll need to go through thisceremony, for I've reached my top notch, and probably you have too. "

"Wait!" she exclaimed, stooping to pick something out of the grass ather feet. "Heah's anothah foah-leaved clovah. I find one neahly everytime I come down this side of the avenue. I'm making a collection ofthem. When I get enough, maybe I'll make a photograph-frame of them. "

"Then you ought to put your own picture in it, for you're certainly theluckiest person for finding them I ever heard of. I'm going to carve oneon the tree, here by this last notch under the date. It will be quiteneat and symbolical, don't you think? A sort of 'when this you seeremember me' hieroglyphic. It will remind you of the long discussionswe've had on the subject since we read 'Abdallah' together. "

He dug away in silence for a moment, then said, "It's queer how youhappened to find that just now, for last night I came across a verseabout one, that made me think of you, and I learned it on purpose to sayto you--sort of a farewell wish, you know. "

"Spouting poetry is a new accomplishment for you, Bobby, " said Lloyd, teasingly. "I certainly want to hear it. Go on. "

She looked down to thrust the stem of the clover through the silverarrow that fastened her belt, and waited with an expectant smile tohear what Limerick or nonsense jingle he had found that made him thinkof her. It was neither. With eyes fixed on the little symbol he wasoutlining on the bark of the tree, he recited as if he were reading thewords from it:

 "Love, be true to her; Life, be dear to her; Health, stay close to her; Joy, draw near to her; Fortune, find what your gifts Can do for her. Search your treasure-house Through and through for her. Follow her steps The wide world over; You must! for here is The four-leaved clover. "

"Why, Rob, that is _lovely_!" she exclaimed, looking up at him, surprised and pleased. "I'm glad you put that clovah on the tree, forevery time I look at it, it will remind me of yoah wish, and--"

The letter she had been carrying fluttered to the ground. He stooped topick it up and return it to her. 

"That's the lettah you are to mail for me, " she said, giving it back tohim. "Don't forget it, for it's impawtant. "

The address was uppermost, in her clear, plain hand, and she held ittoward him, so that he saw she intended him to read it. 

"Hm! Writing to Alex Shelby, are you?" he said, with his usual brotherlyfrankness, and a sniff that plainly showed his disapproval. 

"It's just a note to tell him that I can't ride with him Thursday, " sheanswered, turning away. 

"Did you tell him the reason?" he demanded, continuing to dig into thetree. 

"Of co'se not! How could I without making Bernice appeah ridiculous?"

"But what will he think of you, if you don't?"

"Oh, I don't know! I've worried ovah it until I'm neahly gray. "

Then she looked up, wondering at his silence and the grave intentnesswith which he was regarding her. 

"Oh, Rob, don't tell me, aftah all, that you think it was silly of me! Ithought you'd like it! It was only the friendly thing to do, wasn't it?"

He gave a final dig with his knife, then turned to look down into herwistful eyes. "Lloyd Sherman, " he said, slowly, "you're one girl whosefriendship means something. You don't measure up very high on this oldlocust, but when it comes to doing the square thing--when it's aquestion of _honor_, you measure up like a man!"

Somehow the unwonted tenderness of his tone, the grave approval of hissmile, touched her in a way she had not believed possible. The tearssprang to her eyes. There was a little tremor in her voice that shetried to hide with a laugh. 

"Oh, Rob! I'm so glad! Nothing could make me happier than to have youthink that!"

They started on down to the gate together. The only sound in all thelate afternoon sunshine was the soft rustling of the leaves overhead. How many times the old locusts had watched their yearly partings! Asthey reached the gate, Rob balanced the letter on his palm an instant. Evidently he had been thinking of it all the way. "Yes, " he said, as ifto himself, "that proves a right to the third leaf. " Then he dropped theletter in his pocket. 

Lloyd looked up, almost shyly. "Rob, I want to tell you something. Evenafter that letter was written I was tempted not to send it. I wassitting with it in my hand, hesitating, when I heard yoah whistle in thehall, and then it came ovah me like a flash, all you'd said, both injest and earnest, about friendship and what it should count for. Well, it was the old test, like jumping off the roof and climbing thechimney. I used to say 'Bobby expects it of me, so I'll do it or die. 'It was that way this time. So if I have found the third leaf, Rob, itwas _you_ who showed me where to look for it. "

Then it was that the old locusts, watching and nodding overhead, sent along whispering sigh from one to another. They knew now that the twochildren who had romped and raced in their shadows, who had laughed andsung around their feet through so many summers, were outgrowing thatchildhood at last. For the boy, instead of answering "Oh, pshaw!" inbluff, boyish fashion, as he would have done in other summers gone, impulsively thrust out his hands to clasp both of hers. 

That was their good-by. Then the Little Colonel, tall and slender likeElaine, the Lily Maid, turned and walked back toward the house. She wasso happy in the thought that she had found the golden leaf, that she didnot think to look behind her, so she did not see what the locustssaw--Rob standing there watching her, till she passed out of sightbetween the white pillars. But the grim old family sentinels, who werealways watching, nodded knowingly and went on whispering together. 

THE END. 

BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE

 * * * * *

 THE LITTLE COLONEL BOOKS (Trade Mark)

 _By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON_

 _Each 1 vol. , large 12mo, cloth, illustrated, per vol. _, $1. 50

 THE LITTLE COLONEL STORIES (Trade Mark)

Being three "Little Colonel" stories in the Cosy Corner Series, "TheLittle Colonel, " "Two Little Knights of Kentucky, " and "The GiantScissors, " put into a single volume. 

 =THE LITTLE COLONEL'S HOUSE PARTY= (Trade Mark)

 =THE LITTLE COLONEL'S HOLIDAYS= (Trade Mark)

 =THE LITTLE COLONEL'S HERO= (Trade Mark)

 =THE LITTLE COLONEL AT BOARDING SCHOOL= (Trade Mark)

 =THE LITTLE COLONEL IN ARIZONA= (Trade Mark)

 =THE LITTLE COLONEL'S CHRISTMAS VACATION= (Trade Mark)

 =THE LITTLE COLONEL, MAID OF HONOUR= (Trade Mark)

 =THE LITTLE COLONEL'S KNIGHT COMES RIDING= (Trade Mark)

 =MARY WARE: THE LITTLE COLONEL'S CHUM= (Trade Mark)

 _These ten volumes, boxed as a ten-volume set_, $15. 00

 =THE LITTLE COLONEL= (Trade Mark)

 =TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY=

 =THE GIANT SCISSORS=

 =BIG BROTHER=

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=IN THE DESERT OF WAITING=: THE LEGEND OF CAMELBACK MOUNTAIN. 

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=JOEL: A BOY OF GALILEE=: By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON. Illustrated by L. J. Bridgman. 

New illustrated edition, uniform with the Little Colonel Books, 1 vol. , large 12mo, cloth decorative, $1. 50

A story of the time of Christ, which is one of the author's best-knownbooks. 

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"'Asa Holmes; or, At the Cross-Roads' is the most delightful, mostsympathetic and wholesome book that has been published in a longwhile. "--_Boston Times. _

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In this book Mr. Johnston gives interesting sketches of the Indianbraves who have figured with prominence in the history of our own land, including Powhatan, the Indian Cæsar; Massasoit, the friend of thePuritans; Pontiac, the red Napoleon; Tecumseh, the famous war chief ofthe Shawnees; Sitting Bull, the famous war chief of the Sioux; Geronimo, the renowned Apache Chief, etc. , etc. 

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'Tilda Jane is the same original, delightful girl, and as fond of heranimal pets as ever. 

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 Library 12mo, cloth decorative. Illustrated by E. B. Barry, $1. 50

Here we have the haps and mishaps, the trials and triumphs, of adelightful New England family, of whose devotion and sturdiness it willdo the reader good to hear. 

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The atmosphere of army life on the plains breathes on every page of thisdelightful tale. The boy is the son of a captain of U. S. Cavalrystationed at a frontier post in the days when our regulars earned thegratitude of a nation. 

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Miss Fox's new book deals with the fortunes of the delightful Mulvaneychildren. 

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By EVALEEN STEIN. 

 Small quarto, cloth decorative, illustrated and decorated in colors by Adelaide Everhart, $1. 00

Gabriel was a loving, patient, little French lad, who assisted the monksin the long ago days, when all the books were written and illuminated byhand, in the monasteries. 

=THE ENCHANTED AUTOMOBILE=

Translated from the French by MARY J. SAFFORD

 Small quarto, cloth decorative, illustrated and decorated in colors by Edna M. Sawyer, $1. 00

"An up-to-date French fairy-tale which fairly radiates the spirit of thehour, --unceasing diligence. "--_Chicago Record-Herald. _

=O-HEART-SAN=

THE STORY OF A JAPANESE GIRL. By HELEN EGGLESTON HASKELL. 

 Small quarto, cloth decorative, illustrated and decorated in colors by Frank P. Fairbanks, $1. 00

"The story comes straight from the heart of Japan. The shadow ofFujiyama lies across it and from every page breathes the fragrance oftea leaves, cherry blossoms and chrysanthemums. "--_The ChicagoInter-Ocean. _

=THE YOUNG SECTION-HAND=: OR, THE ADVENTURES OF ALLAN WEST. By BURTON E. STEVENSON. 

 Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, $1. 50

Mr. Stevenson's hero is a manly lad of sixteen, who is given a chance asa section-hand on a big Western railroad, and whose experiences are asreal as they are thrilling. 

=THE YOUNG TRAIN DISPATCHER. = By BURTON E. STEVENSON. 

 Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, $1. 50

"A better book for boys has never left an American press. "--_SpringfieldUnion. _

=THE YOUNG TRAIN MASTER. = By BURTON E. STEVENSON. 

 Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, $1. 50

"Nothing better in the way of a book of adventure for boys in which theactualities of life are set forth in a practical way could be devised orwritten. "--_Boston Herald. _

=CAPTAIN JACK LORIMER. = By WINN STANDISH. 

 Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, $1. 50

Jack is a fine example of the all-around American high-school boy. 

=JACK LORIMER'S CHAMPIONS=: OR, SPORTS ON LAND AND LAKE. By WINNSTANDISH. 

 Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, $1. 50

"It is exactly the sort of book to give a boy interested in athletics, for it shows him what it means to always 'play fair. '"--_ChicagoTribune. _

=JACK LORIMER'S HOLIDAYS=: OR, MILLVALE HIGH IN CAMP. By WINN STANDISH. 

 Illustrated, $1. 50

Full of just the kind of fun, sports and adventure to excite the healthyminded youngster to emulation. 

=JACK LORIMER'S SUBSTITUTE=: OR, THE ACTING CAPTAIN OF THE TEAM. By WINNSTANDISH. 

 Illustrated, $1. 50

On the sporting side, this book takes up football, wrestling, tobogganing, but it is more of a school story perhaps than any of itspredecessors. 

=CAPTAIN JINKS=: THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A SHETLAND PONY. By FRANCES HODGESWHITE. 

 Cloth decorative, illustrated, $1. 50

The story of Captain Jinks and his faithful dog friend Billy, theirquaint conversations and their exciting adventures, will be eagerly readby thousands of boys and girls. The story is beautifully written andwill take its place alongside of "Black Beauty" and "Beautiful Joe. "

=THE RED FEATHERS. = By THEODORE ROBERTS. 

 Cloth decorative, illustrated, $1. 50

"The Red Feathers" tells of the remarkable adventures of an Indian boywho lived in the Stone Age, many years ago, when the world was young. 

=FLYING PLOVER. = By THEODORE ROBERTS. 

 Cloth decorative. Illustrated by Charles Livingston Bull, $1. 00

Squat-By-The-Fire is a very old and wise Indian who lives alone with hergrandson, "Flying Plover, " to whom she tells the stories each evening. 

=THE WRECK OF THE OCEAN QUEEN. = By JAMES OTIS, author of "Larry Hudson'sAmbition, " etc. 

 Cloth decorative, illustrated, $1. 50

"A stirring story of wreck and mutiny, which boys will find especiallyabsorbing. The many young admirers of James Otis will not let this bookescape them, for it fully equals its many predecessors in excitement andsustained interest. "--_Chicago Evening Post. _

=LITTLE WHITE INDIANS. = By FANNIE E. OSTRANDER. 

 Cloth decorative, illustrated, $1. 25

"A bright, interesting story which will appeal strongly to the'make-believe' instinct in children, and will give them a healthy, active interest in 'the simple life. '"

=MARCHING WITH MORGAN. = HOW DONALD LOVELL BECAME A SOLDIER OF THEREVOLUTION. By JOHN L. VEASY. 

 Cloth decorative, illustrated, $1. 50

This is a splendid boy's story of the expedition of Montgomery andArnold against Quebec. 

COSY CORNER SERIES

It is the intention of the publishers that this series shall containonly the very highest and purest literature, --stories that shall notonly appeal to the children themselves, but be appreciated by all thosewho feel with them in their joys and sorrows. 

The numerous illustrations in each book are by well-known artists, andeach volume has a separate attractive cover design. 

 Each 1 vol. , 16mo, cloth, $0. 50

_By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON_

=THE LITTLE COLONEL (Trade Mark. )=

The scene of this story is laid in Kentucky. Its heroine is a smallgirl, who is known as the Little Colonel, on account of her fanciedresemblance to an old-school Southern gentleman, whose fine estate andold family are famous in the region. 

=THE GIANT SCISSORS=

This is the story of Joyce and of her adventures in France. Joyce is agreat friend of the Little Colonel, and in later volumes shares with herthe delightful experiences of the "House Party" and the "Holidays. "

=TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY=

WHO WERE THE LITTLE COLONEL'S NEIGHBORS. 

In this volume the Little Colonel returns to us like an old friend, butwith added grace and charm. She is not, however, the central figure ofthe story, that place being taken by the "two little knights. "

=MILDRED'S INHERITANCE=

A delightful little story of a lonely English girl who comes to Americaand is befriended by a sympathetic American family who are attracted byher beautiful speaking voice. By means of this one gift she is enabledto help a school-girl who has temporarily lost the use of her eyes, andthus finally her life becomes a busy, happy one. 

=CICELY AND OTHER STORIES FOR GIRLS=

The readers of Mrs. Johnston's charming juveniles will be glad to learnof the issue of this volume for young people. 

=AUNT 'LIZA'S HERO AND OTHER STORIES=

A collection of six bright little stories, which will appeal to all boysand most girls. 

=BIG BROTHER=

A story of two boys. The devotion and care of Stephen, himself a smallboy, for his baby brother, is the theme of the simple tale. 

=OLE MAMMY'S TORMENT=

"Ole Mammy's Torment" has been fitly called "a classic of Southernlife. " It relates the haps and mishaps of a small negro lad, and tellshow he was led by love and kindness to a knowledge of the right. 

=THE STORY OF DAGO=

In this story Mrs. Johnston relates the story of Dago, a pet monkey, owned jointly by two brothers. Dago tells his own story, and the accountof his haps and mishaps is both interesting and amusing. 

=THE QUILT THAT JACK BUILT=

A pleasant little story of a boy's labor of love, and how it changed thecourse of his life many years after it was accomplished. 

=FLIP'S ISLANDS OF PROVIDENCE=

A story of a boy's life battle, his early defeat, and his final triumph, well worth the reading. 

_By EDITH ROBINSON_

=A LITTLE PURITAN'S FIRST CHRISTMAS=

A story of Colonial times in Boston, telling how Christmas was inventedby Betty Sewall, a typical child of the Puritans, aided by her brotherSam. 

=A LITTLE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY=

The author introduces this story as follows:

"One ride is memorable in the early history of the American Revolution, the well-known ride of Paul Revere. Equally deserving of commendation isanother ride, --the ride of Anthony Severn, --which was no less historicin its action or memorable in its consequences. "

=A LOYAL LITTLE MAID=

A delightful and interesting story of Revolutionary days, in which thechild heroine, Betsey Schuyler, renders important services to GeorgeWashington. 

=A LITTLE PURITAN REBEL=

This is an historical tale of a real girl, during the time when thegallant Sir Harry Vane was governor of Massachusetts. 

=A LITTLE PURITAN PIONEER=

The scene of this story is laid in the Puritan settlement atCharlestown. 

=A LITTLE PURITAN BOUND GIRL=

A story of Boston in Puritan days, which is of great interest toyouthful readers. 

=A LITTLE PURITAN CAVALIER=

The story of a "Little Puritan Cavalier" who tried with all his boyishenthusiasm to emulate the spirit and ideals of the dead Crusaders. 

=A PURITAN KNIGHT ERRANT=

The story tells of a young lad in Colonial times who endeavored to carryout the high ideals of the knights of olden days. 

_By OUIDA_ (_Louise de la Ramee_)

=A DOG OF FLANDERS=

A CHRISTMAS STORY

Too well and favorably known to require description. 

=THE NURNBERG STOVE=

This beautiful story has never before been published at a popular price. 

_By FRANCES MARGARET FOX_

=THE LITTLE GIANT'S NEIGHBOURS=

A charming nature story of a "little giant" whose neighbors were thecreatures of the field and garden. 

=FARMER BROWN AND THE BIRDS=

A little story which teaches children that the birds are man's bestfriends. 

=BETTY OF OLD MACKINAW=

A charming story of child life. 

=BROTHER BILLY=

The story of Betty's brother, and some further adventures of Bettyherself. 

=MOTHER NATURE'S LITTLE ONES=

Curious little sketches describing the early lifetime, or "childhood, "of the little creatures out-of-doors. 

=HOW CHRISTMAS CAME TO THE MULVANEYS=

A bright, lifelike little story of a family of poor children with anunlimited capacity for fun and mischief. 

=THE COUNTRY CHRISTMAS=

Miss Fox has vividly described the happy surprises that made theoccasion so memorable to the Mulvaneys, and the funny things thechildren did in their new environment. 

_By MISS MULOCK_

=THE LITTLE LAME PRINCE=

A delightful story of a little boy who has many adventures by means ofthe magic gifts of his fairy godmother. 

=ADVENTURES OF A BROWNIE=

The story of a household elf who torments the cook and gardener, but isa constant joy and delight to the children who love and trust him. 

=HIS LITTLE MOTHER=

Miss Mulock's short stories for children are a constant source ofdelight to them, and "His Little Mother, " in this new and attractivedress, will be welcomed by hosts of youthful readers. 

=LITTLE SUNSHINE'S HOLIDAY=

An attractive story of a summer outing. "Little Sunshine" is another ofthose beautiful child-characters for which Miss Mulock is so justlyfamous. 

_By MARSHALL SAUNDERS_

=FOR HIS COUNTRY=

A sweet and graceful story of a little boy who loved his country;written with that charm which has endeared Miss Saunders to hosts ofreaders. 

=NITA, THE STORY OF AN IRISH SETTER = In this touching little book, MissSaunders shows how dear to her heart are all of God's dumb creatures. 

=ALPATOK, THE STORY OF AN ESKIMO DOG=

Alpatok, an Eskimo dog from the far north, was stolen from his masterand left to starve in a strange city, but was befriended and cared for, until he was able to return to his owner. 

_By WILL ALLEN DROMGOOLE_

=THE FARRIER'S DOG AND HIS FELLOW=

This story, written by the gifted young Southern woman, will appeal toall that is best in the natures of the many admirers of her graceful andpiquant style. 

=THE FORTUNES OF THE FELLOW=

Those who read and enjoyed the pathos and charm of "The Farrier's Dogand His Fellow" will welcome the further account of the adventures ofBaydaw and the Fellow at the home of the kindly smith. 

=THE BEST OF FRIENDS=

This continues the experiences of the Farrier's dog and his Fellow, written in Mr. Dromgoole's well-known charming style. 

=DOWN IN DIXIE=

A fascinating story for boys and girls, of a family of Alabama childrenwho move to Florida and grow up in the South. 

_By MARIAN W. WILDMAN_

=LOYALTY ISLAND=

An account of the adventures of four children and their pet dog on anisland, and how they cleared their brother from the suspicion ofdishonesty. 

=THEODORE AND THEODORA=

This is a story of the exploits and mishaps of two mischievous twins, and continues the adventures of the interesting group of children in"Loyalty Island. "

 * * * * *

Transcriber's Notes:

Obvious punctuation errors repaired. 

Page 46, unclear wording "int n" changed to "interest in" (such friendlyinterest in)

Page 161, "woudn't" changed to "wouldn't" (vowed she wouldn't)

Page 244, "conversaton" changed to "conversation" (fell intoconversation)

Page 260, "unroarious" changed to "uproarious" (were almost uproarious)