THE S. W. F. CLUB

by

CAROLINE E. JACOBS

Author of _Joan of Jupiter Inn_, _Joan's Jolly Vacation_, _Patricia_, etc. 

The Goldsmith Publishing Co. Cleveland, OhioGeorge W. Jacobs & Company

1912

CONTENTS

CHAPTER

 I PAULINE'S FLAG II THE MAPLES III UNCLE PAUL'S ANSWER IV BEGINNINGS V BEDELIA VI PERSONALLY CONDUCTED VII HILARY'S TURN VIII SNAP-SHOTS IX AT THE MANOR X THE END OF SUMMER

CHAPTER I

PAULINE'S FLAG

Pauline dropped the napkin she was hemming and, leaning back in herchair, stared soberly down into the rain-swept garden. 

Overhead, Patience was having a "clarin' up scrape" in her particularcorner of the big garret, to the tune of "There's a Good Time Coming. "

Pauline drew a quick breath; probably, there was a good timecoming--any number of them--only they were not coming her way; theywould go right by on the main road, they always did. 

"'There's a good time coming, '" Patience insisted shrilly, "'Help iton! Help it on!'"

Pauline drew another quick breath. She would help them on! If theywould none of them stop on their own account, they must be flagged. And--yes, she would do it--right now. 

Getting up, she brought her writing-portfolio from the closet, clearinga place for it on the little table before the window. Then her eyeswent back to the dreary, rain-soaked garden. How did one begin aletter to an uncle one had never seen; and of whom one meant to ask agreat favor?

But at last, after more than one false start, the letter got itselfwritten, after a fashion. 

Pauline read it over to herself, a little dissatisfied pucker betweenher brows:--

_Mr. Paul Almy Shaw, New York City, New York_. 

MY DEAR UNCLE PAUL: First, I should like you to understand thatneither father nor mother know that I am writing this letter to you;and that if they did, I think they would forbid it; and I should likeyou to believe, too, that if it were not for Hilary I should not dreamof writing it. You know so little about us, that perhaps you do notremember which of us Hilary is. She comes next to me, and is justthirteen. She hasn't been well for a long time, not since she had toleave school last winter, and the doctor says that what she needs is athorough change. Mother and I have talked it over and over, but wesimply can't manage it. I would try to earn some money, but I haven'ta single accomplishment; besides I don't see how I could leave home, and anyway it would take so long, and Hilary needs a change now. Andso I am writing to ask you to please help us out a little. I do hopeyou won't be angry at my asking; and I hope very, very much, that youwill answer favorably. 

 I remain, Very respectfully, PAULINE ALMY SHAW. WINTON, VT. , May Sixteenth. 

Pauline laughed rather nervously as she slipped her letter into anenvelope and addressed it. It wasn't a very big flag, but perhaps itwould serve her purpose. 

Tucking the letter into her blouse, Pauline ran down-stairs to thesitting-room, where her mother and Hilary were. "I'm going down to thepost-office, mother, " she said; "any errands?"

"My dear, in this rain?"

"There won't be any mail for us, Paul, " Hilary said, glancinglistlessly up from the book she was trying to read; "you'll only getall wet and uncomfortable for nothing. "

Pauline's gray eyes were dancing; "No, " she agreed, "I don't supposethere will be any mail for us--to-day; but I want a walk. It won'thurt me, mother. I love to be out in the rain. "

And all the way down the slippery village street the girl's eyescontinued to dance with excitement. It was so much to have actuallystarted her ball rolling; and, at the moment, it seemed that Uncle Paulmust send it bounding back in the promptest and most delightful ofletters. He had never married, and somewhere down at the bottom of hisapparently crusty, old heart he must have kept a soft spot for thechildren of his only brother. 

Thus Pauline's imagination ran on, until near the post-office she mether father. The whole family had just finished a tour of the West inMr. Paul Shaw's private car--of course, he must have a private car, wasn't he a big railroad man?--and Pauline had come back to Winton longenough to gather up her skirts a little more firmly when she saw Mr. Shaw struggling up the hill against the wind. 

"Pauline!" he stopped, straightening his tall, scholarly figure. "Whatbrought you out in such a storm?"

With a sudden feeling of uneasiness, Pauline wondered what he would sayif she were to explain exactly what it was that had brought her out. With an impulse towards at least a half-confession, she said hurriedly, "I wanted to post a letter I'd just written; I'll be home almost assoon as you are, father. "

Then she ran on down the street. All at once she felt her courageweakening; unless she got her letter posted immediately she felt sheshould end by tearing it up. 

When it had slipped from her sight through the narrow slit labeled"LETTERS, " she stood a moment, almost wishing it were possible to getit back again. 

She went home rather slowly. Should she confess at once, or wait untilUncle Paul's answer came? It should be here inside of a week, surely;and if it were favorable--and, oh, it must be favorable--would not thatin itself seem to justify her in what she had done?

On the front piazza, Patience was waiting for her, a look of mischiefin her blue eyes. Patience was ten, a red-haired, freckled slip of agirl. She danced about Pauline now. "Why didn't you tell me you weregoing out so I could've gone, too? And what have you been up to, PaulShaw? Something! You needn't tell me you haven't. "

"I'm not going to tell you anything, " Pauline answered, going on intothe house. The study door was half open, and when she had taken offher things, Pauline stood a moment a little uncertainly outside it. Then suddenly, much to her small sister's disgust, she went in, closingthe door behind her. 

Mr. Shaw was leaning back in his big chair at one corner of thefireplace. "Well, " he asked, looking up, "did you get your letter inin time, my dear?"

"Oh, it wasn't the time. " Pauline sat down on a low bench at the otherend of the fireplace. "It was that I wanted to feel that it was reallymailed. Did you ever feel that way about a letter, father? And as if, if you didn't hurry and get it in--you wouldn't--mail it?"

Something in her tone made her father glance at her more closely; itwas very like the tone in which Patience was apt to make her rathernumerous confessions. Then it occurred to him, that, whether byaccident or design, she was sitting on the very stool on which Patienceusually placed herself at such times, and which had gained thereby thename of "the stool of penitence. "

"Yes, " he answered, "I have written such letters once or twice in mylife. "

Pauline stooped to straighten out the hearth rug. "Father, " she saidabruptly; "I have been writing to Uncle Paul. " She drew a sharp breathof relief. 

"You have been writing to your Uncle Paul! About what, Pauline?"

And Pauline told him. When she had finished, Mr. Shaw sat for somemoments without speaking, his eyes on the fire. 

"It didn't seem very--wrong, at the time, " Pauline ventured. "I had todo something for Hilary. "

"Why did you not consult your mother, or myself, before taking such astep, Pauline?"

"I was afraid--if I did--that you would--forbid it; and I was soanxious to do something. It's nearly a month now since Dr. Brice saidHilary must have a change. We used to have such good timestogether--Hilary and I--but we never have fun anymore--she doesn't careabout anything; and to-day it seemed as if I couldn't bear it anylonger, so I wrote. I--I am sorry, if you're displeased with me, father, and yet, if Uncle Paul writes back favorably, I'm afraid Ican't help being glad I wrote. "

Mr. Shaw rose, lighting the low reading-lamp, standing on the studytable. "You are frank enough after the event, at least, Pauline. Tobe equally so, I am displeased; displeased and exceedingly annoyed. However, we will let the matter rest where it is until you have heardfrom your uncle, I should advise your saying nothing to your sistersuntil his reply comes. I am afraid you will find it disappointing. "

Pauline flushed. "I never intended telling Hilary anything about itunless I had good news for her; as for Patience--"

Out in the hall again, with the study door closed behind her, Paulinestood a moment choking back a sudden lump in her throat. Would UnclePaul treat her letter as a mere piece of school-girl impertinence, asfather seemed to?

From the sitting-room came an impatient summons. "Paul, will you nevercome!"

"What is it, Hilary?" Pauline asked, coming to sit at one end of theold sofa. 

"That's what I want to know, " Hilary answered from the other end. "Impatience says you've been writing all sorts of mysterious lettersthis afternoon, and that you came home just now looking like---"

"Well, like what?"

"Like you'd been up to something--and weren't quite sure how thegrown-ups were going to take it, " Patience explained from the rugbefore the fire. 

"How do you know I have been writing--anything?" Pauline asked. 

"There, you see!" Patience turned to Hilary, "she doesn't deny it!"

"I'm not taking the trouble to deny or confirm little girl nonsense, "Pauline declared. "But what makes you think I've been writing letters?"

"Oh, 'by the pricking of my thumbs'!" Patience rolled over, andresting her sharp little chin in her hands, stared up at her sistersfrom under her mop of short red curls. "Pen! Ink! Paper! And such alot of torn-up scraps! It's really very simple!"

But Pauline was on her way to the dining-room. "Terribly convincing, isn't it?" Her tone should have squelched Patience, but it didn't. 

"You can't fool me!" that young person retorted. "I know you've beenup to something! And I'm pretty sure father doesn't approve, from theway you waited out there in the hall just now. "

Pauline did not answer; she was busy laying the cloth for supper. "Anything up, Paul?" Hilary urged, following her sister out to thedining-room. 

"The barometer--a very little; I shouldn't wonder if we had a clear dayto-morrow. "

"You are as provoking as Impatience! But I needn't have asked; nothingworth while ever does happen to us. "

"You know perfectly well, Pauline Almy Shaw!" Patience proclaimed, from the curtained archway between the rooms. "You know perfectlywell, that the ev'dence against you is most in-crim-i-na-ting!"Patience delighted in big words. 

"Hilary, " Pauline broke in, "I forgot to tell you, I met Mrs. Dane thismorning; she wants us to get up a social--'If the young ladies at theparsonage will, ' and so forth. "

"I hate socials! Besides, there aren't any 'young ladies' at theparsonage; or, at any rate, only one. I shan't have to be a young ladyfor two years yet. "

"Most in-crim-i-na-ting!" Patience repeated insistently; "you wrote. "

Pauline turned abruptly and going into the pantry began taking down thecups and saucers for the table. As soon as Hilary had gone back to thesitting-room, she called softly, "Patty, O Patty!"

Patience grinned wickedly; she was seldom called Patty, least of all byPauline. "Well?" she answered. 

"Come here--please, " and when Patience was safely inside the pantry, Pauline shut the door gently--"Now see here, Impatience--"

"That isn't what you called me just now!"

"Patty then--Listen, suppose--suppose I have been--trying to dosomething to--to help Hilary to get well; can't you see that I wouldn'twant her to know, until I was sure, really sure, it was going to cometo something?"

Patience gave a little jump of excitement. "How jolly! But who haveyou been writing to--about it, Paul!"

"I haven't said that--"

"See here, Paul, I'll play fair, if you do; but if you go trying to actany 'grown-up sister' business I'll--"

And Pauline capitulated. "I can't tell you about it yet, Patty; fathersaid not to. I want you to promise not to ask questions, or sayanything about it, before Hilary. We don't want her to get all workedup, thinking something nice is going to happen, and then maybe have herdisappointed. "

"Will it be nice--very nice?"

"I hope so. "

"And will I be in it?"

"I don't know. I don't know what it'll be, or when it'll be. "

"Oh, dear! I wish you did. I can't think who it is you wrote to, Paul. And why didn't father like your doing it?"

"I haven't said that he--"

"Paul, you're very tiresome. Didn't he know you were going to do it?"

Pauline gathered up her cups and saucers without answering. 

"Then he didn't, " Patience observed. "Does mother know about it?"

"I mean to tell her as soon as I get a good chance, " Pauline saidimpatiently, going back to the dining-room. 

When she returned a few moments later, she found Patience still in thepantry, sitting thoughtfully on the old, blue sugar bucket. "I know, "Patience announced triumphantly. "You've been writing to Uncle Paul!"

Pauline gasped and fled to the kitchen; there were times when flightwas the better part of discretion, in dealing with the youngest memberof the Shaw family. 

On the whole, Patience behaved very well that evening, only, on goingto bid her father good-night, did she ask anxiously, how long it tookto send a letter to New York and get an answer. 

"That depends considerably upon the promptness with which the partywritten to answers the letter, " Mr. Shaw told her. 

"A week?" Patience questioned. 

"Probably--if not longer. "

Patience sighed. 

"Have _you_ been writing a letter to someone in New York?" her fatherasked. 

"No, indeed, " the child said gravely, "but, " she looked up, answeringhis glance. "Paul didn't tell me, father; I--guessed. Uncle Paul doeslive in New York, doesn't he?"

"Yes, " Mr. Shaw answered, almost sharply. "Now run to bed, my dear. "

But when the stairs were reached. Patience most certainly did not run. "I think people are very queer, " she said to herself, "they seem tothink _ten_ years isn't a bit more grown-up than six or seven. "

"Mummy, " she asked, when later her mother came to take away her light, "father and Uncle Paul are brethren, aren't they?"

"My dear! What put that into your head?"

"Aren't they?"

"Certainly, dear. "

"Then why don't they 'dwell together in unity'?"

"Patience!" Mrs. Shaw stared down at the sharp inquisitive little face. 

"Why don't they?" Patience persisted. If persistency be a virtue, Patience was to be highly commended. 

"My dear, who has said that they do not?"

Patience shrugged; as if things had always to be said. "But, mummy--"

"Go to sleep now, dear. " Mrs. Shaw bent to kiss her good-night. 

"All the same, " Patience confided to the darkness, "I know they don't. "She gave a little shiver of delight--something very mysterious wasafoot evidently. 

Out on the landing, Mrs. Shaw found Pauline waiting for her. "Comeinto your room, mother, please, I've started up the fire; I want totell you something. "

"I thought as much, " her mother answered. She sat down in the bigarmchair and Pauline drew up before the fire. "I've been expecting itall the evening. "

Pauline dropped down on the floor, her head against her mother's knee. "This family is dreadfully keen-sighted. Mother dear, please don't beangry--" and Pauline made confession. 

When she had finished, Mrs. Shaw sat for some moments, as her husbandhad done, her eyes on the fire. "You told him that we could not manageit, Pauline?" she said at last. "My dear, how could you!"

"But, mother dear, I was--desperate; something has to be donefor--Hilary, and I had to do it!"

"Do you suppose your father and I do not realize that quite as well asyou do, Pauline?"

"You and I have talked it over and over, and father neversays--anything. "

"Not to you, perhaps; but he is giving the matter very carefulconsideration, and later he hopes--"

"Mother dear, that is so indefinite!" Pauline broke in. "And I can'tsee--Father is Uncle Paul's only brother! If I were rich, and Hilarywere not and needed things, I would want her to let me know. "

"It is possible, that under certain conditions, Hilary would not wishyou to know. " Mrs. Shaw hesitated, then she said slowly, "You know, Pauline, that your uncle is much older than your father; so much older, that he seemed to stand--when your father was a boy--more in the lightof a father to him, than an older brother. He was much opposed to yourfather's going into the ministry, he wanted him to go into businesswith him. He is a strong-willed man, and does not easily relinquishany plan of his own making. It went hard with him, when your fatherrefused to yield; later, when your father received the call to thisparish, your uncle quite as strongly opposed his accepting it--buryinghimself alive in a little out-of-the-way hole, he called it. It cameto the point, finally, on your uncle's insisting on his making it achoice between himself and Winton. He refused to ever come near theplace and the two or three letters your father wrote at first remainedunanswered. The breach between them has been one of the hardest trialsyour father has had to bear. "

"Oh, " Pauline cried miserably, "what a horrid interfering thing fathermust think me! Rushing in where I had no right to! I wish I'dknown--I just thought--you see, father speaks of Uncle Paul now andthen--that maybe they'd only--grown apart--and that if Uncle Paul knew!But perhaps my letter will get lost. It would serve me right; and yet, if it does, I'm afraid I can't help feeling somewhat disappointed--onHilary's account. "

Her mother smiled. "We can only wait and see. I would rather you saidnothing of what I have been telling you to either Hilary or Patience, Pauline. "

"I won't, Mother Shaw. It seems I have a lot of secrets from Hilary. And I won't write any more such letters without consulting you orfather, you can depend on that. "

Mr. Paul Shaw's answer did not come within the allotted week. It wasthe longest week Pauline had ever known; and when the second went byand still no word from her uncle, the waiting and uncertainty becamevery hard to bear, all the harder, that her usual confidant, Hilary, must not be allowed to suspect anything. 

The weather had turned suddenly warm, and Hilary's listlessness hadincreased proportionately, which probably accounted for the dying outof what little interest she had felt at first in Patience's "mysteriousletter. "

Patience, herself, was doing her best to play fair; fortunately, shewas in school the greater part of the day, else the strain upon herpowers of self-control might have proved too heavy. 

"Mother, " Pauline said one evening, lingering in her mother's room, after Hilary had gone to bed, "I don't believe Uncle Paul meansanswering at all. I wish I'd never asked him to do anything. "

"So do I, Pauline. Still it is rather early yet for you to give uphope. It's hard waiting, I know, dear, but that is something we allhave to learn to do, sooner or later. "

"I don't think 'no news is good news, '" Pauline said; then shebrightened. "Oh, Mother Shaw! Suppose the letter is on the way now, and that Hilary is to have a sea voyage! You'd have to go, too. "

"Pauline, Pauline, not so fast! Listen, dear, we might send Hilary outto The Maples for a week or two. Mrs. Boyd would be delighted to haveher; and it wouldn't be too far away, in case we should be getting herready for that--sea voyage. "

"I don't believe she'd care to go; it's quieter than here at home. "

"But it would be a change. I believe I'll suggest it to her in themorning. "

But when Mrs. Shaw did suggest it the next morning, Hilary was quite ofPauline's opinion. "I shouldn't like it a bit, mother! It would beworse than home--duller, I mean; and Mrs. Boyd would fuss over me so, "she said impatiently. 

"You used to like going there, Hilary. "

"Mother, you can't want me to go. "

"I think it might do you good, Hilary. I should like you to try it. "

"Please, mother, I don't see the use of bothering with little half-waythings. "

"I do, Hilary, when they are the only ones within reach. "

The girl moved restlessly, settling her hammock cushions; then she laylooking out over the sunny garden with discontented eyes. 

It was a large old-fashioned garden, separated on the further side by alow hedge from the old ivy-covered church. On the back steps of thechurch, Sextoness Jane was shaking out her duster. She was old andgray and insignificant looking; her duties as sexton, in which she hadsucceeded her father, were her great delight. The will with which shesang and worked now seemed to have in it something of reproach for thegirl stretched out idly in the hammock. Nothing more than half-waythings, and not too many of those, had ever come Sextoness Jane's way. Yet she was singing now over her work. 

Hilary moved impatiently, turning her back on the garden and the bentold figure moving about in the church beyond; but, somehow, shecouldn't turn her back on what that bent old figure had suddenly cometo stand for. 

Fifteen minutes later, she sat up, pushing herself slowly back andforth. "I wish Jane had chosen any other morning to clean the churchin, Mother Shaw!" she protested with spirit. 

Her mother looked up from her mending. "Why, dear? It is her regularday. "

"Couldn't she do it, I wonder, on an irregular day! Anyhow, if shehad, I shouldn't have to go to The Maples this afternoon. Must I takea trunk, mother?"

"Hilary! But what has Jane to do with your going?"

"Pretty nearly everything, I reckon. Must I, mother?"

"No, indeed, dear; and you are not to go at all, unless you can do itwillingly. "

"Oh, I'm fairly resigned; don't press me too hard, Mother Shaw. Ithink I'll go tell Paul now. "

"Well, " Pauline said, "I'm glad you've decided to go, Hilary. I--thatis, maybe it won't be for very long. "

CHAPTER II

THE MAPLES

That afternoon Pauline drove Hilary out to the big, busy, pleasantfarm, called The Maples. 

As they jogged slowly down the one principal street of the sleepy, oldtown, Pauline tried to imagine that presently they would turn off downthe by-road, leading to the station. Through the still air came thesound of the afternoon train, panting and puffing to be off with asmuch importance as the big train, which later, it would connect withdown at the junction. 

"Paul, " Hilary asked suddenly, "what are you thinking about?"

Pauline slapped the reins lightly across old Fanny's plump sides. "Oh, different things--traveling for one. " Suppose Uncle Paul's lettershould come in this afternoon's mail! That she would find it waitingfor her when she got home!

"So was I, " Hilary said. "I was wishing that you and I were going offon that train, Paul. "

"Where to?" Paul asked. After all, it couldn't do any harm--Hilarywould think it one of their "pretend" talks, and it would he nice tohave some definite basis to build on later. 

"Anywhere, " Hilary answered. "I would like to go to the seashoresomewhere; but most anywhere, where there were people and interestingthings to do and see, would do. "

"Yes, " Pauline agreed. 

"There's Josie, " Hilary said, and her sister drew rein, as a girl cameto the edge of the walk to speak to them. 

"Going away?" she asked, catching sight of the valise. 

"Only out to the Boyds', " Pauline told her, "to leave Hilary. "

Josie shifted the strap of school-books under her arm impatiently. "'Only!'" she repeated. "Well, I just wish I was going, too; it's adeal pleasanter out there, than in a stuffy school room these days. "

"It's stupid--and you both know it, " Hilary protested. She glancedenviously at Josie's strap of hooks. "And when school closes, you'llbe through for good, Josie Brice. We shan't finish together, afterall, now. "

"Oh, I'm not through yet, " Josie assured her. "Father'll be going outpast The Maples Saturday morning, I'll get him to take me along. "

Hilary brightened. "Don't forget, " she urged, and as she and Paulinedrove on, she added, "I suppose I can stick it out for a week. "

"Well, I should think as much. _Will_ you go on, Fanny!" Paulineslapped the dignified, complacent Fanny with rather more severity thanbefore. "She's one great mass of laziness, " she declared. "Father'sspoiled her a great deal more than he ever has any of us. "

It was a three-mile drive from the village to The Maples, throughpleasant winding roads, hardly deserving of a more important title thanlane. Now and then, from the top of a low hill, they caught a glimpseof the great lake beyond, shining in the afternoon sunlight, a littleruffled by the light breeze sweeping down to it from the mountainsbordering it on the further side. 

Hilary leaned back in the wide shaded gig; she looked tired, and yetthe new touch of color in her cheeks was not altogether due toweariness. "The ride's done you good, " Pauline said. 

"I wonder what there'll be for supper, " Hilary remarked. "You'll stay, Paul?"

"If you promise to eat a good one. " It was comforting to have Hilaryactually wondering what they would have. 

They had reached the broad avenue of maples leading from the road up tothe house. It was a long, low, weather-stained house, breathing anunmistakable air of generous and warm-hearted hospitality. Paulinenever came to it, without a sense of pity for the kindly elderlycouple, who were so fond of young folks, and who had none of their own. 

Mrs. Boyd had seen them coming, and she came out to meet them, as theyturned into the dooryard. And an old dog, sunning himself on thedoorstep, rose with a slow wag of welcome. 

"Mother's sent you something she was sure you would like to have, "Pauline said. "Please, will you take in a visitor for a few days?" sheadded, laying a hand on Hilary's. 

"You've brought Hilary out to stop?" Mrs. Boyd cried delightedly. "NowI call that mighty good of your mother. You come right 'long in, bothof you: you're sure you can't stop, too, Pauline?"

"Only to supper, thank you. "

Mrs. Boyd had the big valise out from under the seat by now. "Comeright 'long in, " she repeated. "You're tired, aren't you, Hilary? Buta good night's rest'll set you up wonderful. Take her into the spareroom, Pauline. Dear me, I must have felt you was coming, seeing that Iaired it out beautiful only this morning. I'll go call Mr. Boyd totake Fanny to the barn. "

"Isn't she the dearest thing!" Pauline declared, as she and Hilary wentindoors. 

The spare room was back of the parlor, a large comfortable room, withbroad windows facing south and west, and a small vine-covered porch allits own on the south side of the room. 

Pauline pulled forward a great chintz-cushioned rocker, putting hersister into it, and opened the porch door. Beyond lay a wide, slopingmeadow and beyond the meadow, the lake sparkled and rippled in thesunshine. 

"If you're not contented here, Hilary Shaw!" Pauline said, standing inthe low doorway. "Suppose you pretend you've never been here before!I reckon you'd travel a long ways to find a nicer place to stay in. "

"I shouldn't doubt it if you were going to stay with me, Paul; I knowI'm going to be homesick. "

Pauline stretched out a hand to Captain, the old dog, who had comearound to pay his compliments. Captain liked visitors--when he wasconvinced that they really were visitors, not peddlers, nor agents, quite as well as his master and mistress did. "You'd be homesickenough, if you really were off on your travels--you'd better get usedto it. Hadn't she, Captain?" Pauline went to unpack the valise, opening the drawers of the old-fashioned mahogany bureau with a littlebreath of pleasure. "Lavender! Hilary. "

Hilary smiled, catching some of her sister's enthusiasm. She leanedback among her cushions, her eyes on the stretch of shining water atthe far end of the pasture. "I wish you were going to be here, Paul, so that we could go rowing. I wonder if I'll ever feel as if I couldrow again, myself. "

"Of course you will, and a great deal sooner than you think. " Paulinehung Hilary's dressing-gown across the foot of the high double bed. "Now I think you're all settled, ma'am, and I hope to yoursatisfaction. Isn't it a veritable 'chamber of peace, ' Hilary?"

Through the open door and windows came the distant tinkle of a cowbell, and other farm sounds. There came, too, the scent of the earlyMay pinks growing in the borders of Mrs. Boyd's old-fashioned flowerbeds. Already the peace and quiet of the house, the homely comfort, had done Hilary good; the thought of the long simple days to come, werenot so depressing as they had seemed when thought of that morning. 

"Bless me, I'd forgotten, but I've a bit of news for you, " Mrs. Boydsaid, coming in, a moment or so later; "the manor's taken for thesummer. "

"Really?" Pauline cried, "why it's been empty for ever and ever solong. "

The manor was an old rambling stone house, standing a little back froma bit of sandy beach, that jutted out into the lake about a mile fromThe Maples. It was a pleasant place, with a tiny grove of its own, andgood-sized garden, which, year after year, in spite of neglect, wasbright with old-fashioned hardy annuals planted long ago, when themanor had been something more than an old neglected house, at the mercyof a chance tenant. 

"Just a father and daughter. They've got old Betsy Todd to look afterthem, " Mrs. Boyd went on. "The girl's about your age, Hilary. Youwasn't looking to find company of that sort so near, was you?"

Hilary looked interested. "No, " she answered. "But, after all, themanor's a mile away. "

"Oh, she's back and forth every day--for milk, or one thing or another;she's terribly interested in the farm; father's taken a great notion toher. She'll be over after supper, you'll see; and then I'll make youacquainted with her. "

"Are they city people?" Pauline asked. 

"From New York!" Mrs. Boyd told her proudly. From her air one wouldhave supposed she had planned the whole affair expressly for Hilary'sbenefit. "Their name's Dayre. "

"What is the girl's first name?" Pauline questioned. 

"Shirley; it's a queer name for a girl, to my thinking. "

"Is she pretty?" Pauline went on. 

"Not according to my notions; father says she is. She's thin and dark, and I never did see such a mane of hair--and it ain't always too tidy, neither--but she has got nice eyes and a nice friendly way of talking. Looks to me, like she hasn't been brought up by a woman. "

"She sounds--interesting, " Pauline said, and when Mrs. Boyd had leftthem, to make a few changes in her supper arrangements, Pauline turnedeagerly to Hilary. "You're in luck, Hilary Shaw! The newest kind ofnew people; even if it isn't a new place!"

"How do you know they'll, or rather, she'll, want to know me?" Hilaryasked, with one of those sudden changes of mood an invalid often shows, "or I her? We haven't seen her yet. Paul, do you suppose Mrs. Boydwould mind letting me have supper in here?"

"Oh, Hilary, she's laid the table in the living-room! I heard herdoing it. She'd be ever so disappointed. "

"Well, " Hilary said, "come on then. "

Out in the living-room, they found Mr. Boyd waiting for them, and soheartily glad to see them, that Hilary's momentary impatience vanished. To Pauline's delight, she really brought quite an appetite to hersupper. 

"You should've come out here long ago, Hilary, " Mr. Boyd told her, andhe insisted on her having a second helping of the creamed toast, prepared especially in her honor. 

Before supper was over. Captain's deep-toned bark proclaimed anewcomer, or newcomers, seeing that it was answered immediately by amedley of shrill barks, in the midst of which a girl's voice soundedauthoritively--"Quiet, Phil! Pat, I'm ashamed of you! Pudgey, ifyou're not good instantly, you shall stay at home to-morrow night!"

A moment later, the owner of the voice appeared at the porch door, "MayI come in, Mrs. Boyd?" she asked. 

"Come right in, Miss Shirley. I've a couple of young friends here, Iwant you should get acquainted with, " Mrs. Boyd cried. 

"You ain't had your supper yet, have you, Miss Shirley?" Mr. Boyd asked. 

"Father and I had tea out on the lake, " Shirley answered, "but I'mhungry enough again by now, for a slice of Mrs. Boyd's bread andbutter. "

And presently, she was seated at the table, chatting away with Paul andHilary, as if they were old acquaintances, asking Mr. Boyd variousquestions about farm matters and answering Mrs. Boyd's questionsregarding Betsy Todd and her doings, with the most delightful air ofgood comradeship imaginable. 

"Oh, me!" Pauline pushed hack her chair regretfully, "I simply mustgo, it'll be dark before I get home, as it is. "

"I reckon it will, deary, " Mrs. Boyd agreed, "so I won't urge you tostay longer. Father, you just whistle to Colin to bring Fanny 'round. "

Hilary followed her sister into the bedroom. "You'll be over soon, Paul?"

Pauline, putting on her hat before the glass, turned quickly. "As soonas I can. Hilary, don't you like her?"

Hilary balanced herself on the arm of the big, old-fashioned rocker. "I think so. Anyway, I love to watch her talk; she talks all over herface. "

They went out to the gig, where Mr. And Mrs. Boyd and Shirley werestanding. Shirley was feeding Fanny with handfuls of fresh grass. "Isn't she a fat old dear!" she said. 

"She's a fat old poke!" Pauline returned. "Mayn't I give you a lift?I can go 'round by the manor road 's well as not. "

Shirley accepted readily, settling herself in the gig, and balancingher pail of milk on her knee carefully. 

"Good-by, " Pauline called. "Mind, you're to be ever and ever so muchbetter, next time I come, Hilary. "

"Your sister has been sick?" Shirley asked, her voice full ofsympathetic interest. 

"Not sick--exactly; just run down and listless. "

Shirley leaned a little forward, drawing in long breaths of the clearevening air. "I don't see how anyone can ever get run down--here, inthis air; I'm hardly indoors at all. Father and I have our meals outon the porch. You ought to have seen Betsy Todd's face, the first timeI proposed it. 'Ain't the dining-room to your liking, miss?'" sheasked. 

"Betsy Todd's a queer old thing, " Pauline commented. "Father has theworst time, getting her to come to church. "

"We were there last Sunday, " Shirley said. "I'm afraid we were ratherlate; it's a pretty old church, isn't it? I suppose you live in thatsquare white house next to it?"

"Yes, " Pauline answered. "Father came to Winton just after he wasmarried, so we girls have never lived anywhere else nor been anywhereelse--that counted. Any really big city, I mean. We're dreadfullytired of Winton--Hilary, especially. "

"It's a mighty pretty place. "

"I suppose so. " Pauline slapped old Fanny impatiently. "Will you goon!"

Fanny was making forward most reluctantly; the Boyd barn had been verymuch to her liking. Now, as the three dogs made a swift rush at herleaping and barking around her, she gave a snort of disgust, quickeningher pace involuntarily. 

"Don't call them off, please!" Pauline begged Shirley. "She isn't inthe least scared, and it's perfectly refreshing to find that she canmove. "

"All the same, discipline must be maintained, " Shirley insisted; and ather command the dogs fell behind. 

"Have you been here long?" Pauline asked. 

"About two weeks. We were going further up the lake--just on asketching trip, --and we saw this house from the deck of the boat; itlooked so delightful, and so deserted and lonely, that we came backfrom the next landing to see about it. We took it at once and sent fora lot of traps from the studio at home, they aren't here yet. "

Pauline looked her interest. It seemed a very odd, attractive way ofdoing things, no long tiresome plannings of ways and means beforehand. Suppose--when Uncle Paul's letter came--they could set off in suchfashion, with no definite point in view, and stop wherever they feltlike it. 

"I can't think, " Shirley went on, "how such a charming old place cameto be standing idle. "

"Isn't it rather--run down?"

"Not enough to matter--really. I want father to buy it, and do what isneeded to it, without making it all new and snug looking. The sunsetsfrom that front lawn are gorgeous, don't you think so?"

"Yes, " Pauline agreed, "I haven't been over there in two years. Weused to have picnics near there. "

"I hope you will again, this summer, and invite father and me. Weadore picnics; we've had several since we came--he and I and the dogs. The dogs do love picnics so, too. "

Pauline had given up wanting to hurry Fanny; what a lot she would haveto tell her mother when she got home. 

She was sorry when a turn in the road brought them within sight of theold manor house. "There's father!" Shirley said, nodding to a figurecoming towards them across a field. The dogs were off to meet himdirectly, with shrill barks of pleasure. 

"May I get down here, please?" Shirley asked. "Thank you very much forthe lift; and I am so glad to have met you and your sister, Miss Shaw. You'll both come and see me soon, won't you?"

"We'd love to, " Pauline answered heartily; "'cross lots, it's not sovery far over here from the parsonage, and, " she hesitated, "you--you'll be seeing Hilary quite often, while she's at The Maples, perhaps?"

"I hope so. Father's on the lookout for a horse and rig for me, andthen she and I can have some drives together. She will know where tofind the prettiest roads. "

"Oh, she would enjoy that, " Pauline said eagerly, and as she drove on, she turned more than once to glance back at the tall, slender figurecrossing the field. Shirley seemed to walk as if the mere act ofwalking were in itself a pleasure. Pauline thought she had neverbefore known anyone who appeared so alive from head to foot. 

"Go 'long, Fanny!" she commanded; she was in a hurry to get home now, with her burden of news. It seemed to her as if she had been away along while, so much had happened in the meantime. 

At the parsonage gate, Pauline found Patience waiting for her. "Youhave taken your time, Paul Shaw!" the child said, climbing in besideher sister. 

"Fanny's time, you mean!"

"It hasn't come yet!" Patience said protestingly. "I went for the mailmyself this afternoon, so I know!"

"Oh, well, perhaps it will to-morrow, " Pauline answered, with so littleof real concern in her voice, that Patience wondered. "Suppose youtake Fanny on to the barn. Mother's home, isn't she?"

Patience glanced at her sharply. "You've got something--particular--totell mother! O Paul, please wait 'til I come. Is it about--"

"You're getting to look more like an interrogation point every day, Impatience!" Pauline told her, getting down from the gig. 

Patience sniffed. "If nobody ever asked questions, nobody'd ever knowanything!" she declared. 

"Is mother home?" Pauline asked again. 

"Who's asking things now!" Patience drew the reins up tightly andbouncing up and down on the carriage seat, called sharply--"Hi yi! Hiyi!"

It was the one method that never failed to rouse Fanny's indignation, producing, for the moment, the desired effect; still, as Pauline said, it was hardly a proceeding that Hilary or she could adopt, or, least ofall, their father. 

As she trotted briskly off to the barn now, the very tilt of Fanny'sears expressed injured dignity. Dignity was Fanny's strong point;that, and the ability to cover less ground in an afternoon than anyother horse in Winton. The small human being at the other end of thosetaut reins might have known she would have needed no urging barnwards. 

"Maybe you don't like it, " Patience observed, "but that makes nodifference--'s long's it's for your good. You're a very unchristianyhorse, Fanny Shaw. And I'll 'hi yi' you every time I get a chance; sonow go on. "

However Patience was indoors in time to hear all but the very beginningof Pauline's story of her afternoon's experience. "I told you, " shebroke in, "that I saw a nice girl at church last Sunday--in Mrs. Dobson's pew; and Mrs. Dobson kept looking at her out of the corner ofher eyes all the tune, 'stead of paying attention to what father wassaying; and Miranda says, ten to one. Sally Dobson comes out in--"

"That will do, Patience, " her mother said, "if you are going tointerrupt in this fashion, you must run away. "

Patience subsided reluctantly, her blue eyes most expressive. 

"Isn't it nice for Hilary, mother? Now she'll be contented to stay aweek or two, don't you think?" Pauline said. 

"I hope so, dear. Yes, it is very nice. "

"She was looking better already, mother; brighter, you know. "

"Mummy, is asking a perfectly necessary question 'interrupting'?'"

"Perhaps not, dear, if there is only one, " smiled Mrs. Shaw. 

"Mayn't I, please, go with Paul and Hilary when they go to call on thatgirl?"

"On whom, Patience?"

Patience wriggled impatiently; grown people were certainly very tryingat times. "On Paul's and Hilary's new friend, mummy. "

"Not the first time, Patience; possibly later--"

Patience shrugged. "By and by, " she observed, addressing the room atlarge, "when Paul and Hilary are married, I'll be Miss Shaw! Andthen--" the thought appeared to give her considerable comfort. 

"And maybe, Towser, " she confided later, as the two sat together on theside porch, "maybe--some day--you and I'll go to call on them on ourown account. I'm not sure it isn't your duty to call on thosedogs--you lived here first, and I can't see why it isn't mine--to callon that girl. Father says, we should always hasten to welcome thestranger; and they sound dreadfully interesting. "

Towser blinked a sleepy acquiescence. In spite of his years, he stillfollowed blindly where Patience led, though the consequences werefrequently disastrous. 

It was the next afternoon that Pauline, reading in the garden, heard aneager little voice calling excitedly, "Paul, where are you! It's come!It's come! I brought it up from the office myself!"

Pauline sprang up. "Here I am, Patience! Hurry!"

"Well, I like that!" Patience said, coming across the lawn. "Hurry!Haven't I run every inch of the way home!" She waved the letter aboveher head--"'Miss Pauline A. Shaw!' It's type-written! O Paul, aren'tyou going to read it out here!"

For Pauline, catching the letter from her, had run into the house, crying--"Mother! O Mother Shaw!"

CHAPTER III

UNCLE PAUL'S ANSWER

"Mother! O mother, where are you!" Pauline cried, and on Mrs. Shaw'sanswering from her own room, she ran on up-stairs. "O Mother Shaw!It's come at last!" she announced breathlessly. 

"So I thought--when I heard Patience calling just now. Pauline, dear, try not to be too disappointed if--"

"You open it, mother--please! Now it's really come, I'm--afraid to. "Pauline held out her letter. 

"No, dear, it is addressed to you, " Mrs. Shaw answered quietly. 

And Pauline, a good deal sobered by the gravity with which her motherhad received the news, sat down on the wide window seat, near hermother's chair, tearing open the envelope. As she spread out the heavybusinesslike sheet of paper within, a small folded enclosure fell fromit into her lap. 

"Oh, mother!" Pauline caught up the narrow blue slip. She had neverreceived a check from anyone before. "Mother! listen!" and she readaloud, "'Pay to the order of Miss Pauline A. Shaw, the sum oftwenty-five dollars. '"

Twenty-five dollars! One ought to be able to do a good deal withtwenty-five dollars!

"Goodness me!" Patience exclaimed. She had followed her sisterup-stairs, after a discreet interval, curling herself up unobtrusivelyin a big chair just inside the doorway. "Can you do what you like withit, Paul?"

But Pauline was bending over the letter, a bright spot of color on eachcheek. Presently, she handed it to her mother. "I wish--I'd neverwritten to him! Read it, mother!"

And Mrs. Shaw read, as follows--

 NEW YORK CITY, May 31, 19--. 

_Miss Pauline A. Shaw, Winton, Vt. _

MY DEAR NIECE: Yours of May 16th to hand. I am sorry to learn thatyour sister Hilary appears to be in such poor health at present. Suchbeing the case, however, it would seem to me that home was the bestplace for her. I do not at all approve of this modern fashion ofrunning about the country, on any and every pretext. Also, if Iremember correctly, your father has frequently described Winton to meas a place of great natural charms, and peculiarly adapted to thosesuffering from so-called nervous disorders. 

Altogether, I do not feel inclined to comply with your request to makeit possible for your sister to leave home, in search of change andrecreation. Instead, beginning with this letter, I will forward youeach month during the summer, the sum of twenty-five dollars, to beused in procuring for your sisters and yourself--I understand, there isa third child--such simple and healthful diversions as your parents mayapprove, the only conditions I make, being, that at no time shall anyof your pleasure trips take you further than ten miles from home, andthat you keep me informed, from time to time, how this plan of mine issucceeding. 

Trusting this may prove satisfactory, Very respectfully, PAUL A. SHAW. 

"What do you think, mother?" Pauline asked, as Mrs. Shaw finishedreading. "Isn't it a very--queer sort of letter?"

"It is an extremely characteristic one, dear. "

"I think, " Patience could contain herself no longer, "that you are theinconsideratest persons! You know I'm perfectly wild to know what's inthat letter!"

"Run away now, Patience, " her mother said. "You shall hear about itlater, " and when Patience had obeyed--not very willingly, Mrs. Shawturned again to Pauline. "We must show this to your father, beforemaking any plans in regard to it, dear. "

"He's coming now. You show it to him, please, mother. "

When her mother had gone down-stairs, Pauline still sat there in thewindow seat, looking soberly out across the lawn to the village street, with its double rows of tall, old trees. So her flag had served littlepurpose after all! That change for Hilary was still as uncertain, asmuch a vague part of the future, as it had ever been. 

It seemed to the girl, at the moment, as if she fairly hated Winton. As though Hilary and she did not already know every stick and stone init, had not long ago exhausted all its possibilities!

New people might think it "quaint" and "pretty" but they had not livedhere all their lives. And, besides, she had expressly told Uncle Paulthat the doctor had said that Hilary needed a change. 

She was still brooding over the downfall of her hopes, when her mothercalled to her from the garden. Pauline went down, feeling that itmattered very little what her father's decision had been--it could makeso little difference to them, either way. 

Mrs. Shaw was on the bench under the old elm, that stood midway betweenparsonage and church. She had been rereading Uncle Paul's letter, andto Pauline's wonder, there was something like a smile of amusement inher eyes. 

"Well, mother?" the girl asked. 

"Well, dear, your father and I have talked the matter over, and we havedecided to allow you to accept your uncle's offer. "

"But that--hateful condition! How is Hilary to get a chance--here inWinton?"

"Who was it that I heard saying, only this morning, Pauline, that evenif Uncle Paul didn't agree, she really believed we might manage to havea very pleasant summer here at home?"

"I know--but still, now that we know definitely--"

"We can go to work definitely to do even better. "

"But how, mother!"

"That is what we must think over. Suppose you put your wits to workright now. I must go down to Jane's for a few moments. After all, Pauline, those promised twenty-fives can be used very pleasantly--evenin Winton. "

"But it will still be Winton. "

"Winton may develop some unexplored corners, some new outlooks. "

Pauline looked rather doubtful; then, catching sight of a smalldejected-looking little figure in the swing, under the big cherry-treeat the foot of the lawn, she asked, "I suppose I may tell Patience now, mother? She really has been very good all this time of waiting. "

"She certainly has. Only, not too many details, Pauline. Patience isof such a confiding disposition. "

"Patience, " Pauline called, "suppose we go see if there aren't somestrawberries ripe?"

Patience ran off for a basket. Strawberries! As if she didn't knowthey were only a pretext. Grown people were assuredly very queer--butsometimes, it was necessary to humor, their little whims and ways. 

"I don't believe they are ripe yet, " she said, skipping along besideher sister. "O Paul, is it--nice?"

"Mother thinks so!"

"Don't you?"

"Maybe I will--after a while. Hilary isn't to go away. "

"Is that what you wrote and asked Uncle Paul? And didn't you ask forus all to go?"

"Certainly not--we're not sick, " said Pauline, laughing. 

"Miranda says what Hilary needs is a good herb tonic!"

"Miranda doesn't know everything. "

"What is Uncle Paul going to do then?"

"Send some money every month--to have good times with at home. "

"One of those blue paper things?"

"I suppose so, " Pauline laughed. 

"And _you_ don't call that _nice_! Well of all the ungratefullestgirls! Is it for us _all_ to have good times with? Or just Hilary?"

"All of us. Of course, Hilary must come first. "

Patience fairly jumped up and down with excitement. "When will theybegin, and what will they be like? O Paul, just think of the goodtimes we've had _without_ any money 't all! Aren't we the luckiestgirls!"

They had reached the strawberry-bed and Patience dropped down in thegrass beside it, her hands clasped around her knees. "Good times inWinton will be a lot better than good times anywhere else. Winton'ssuch a nice sociable place. "

Pauline settled herself on the top rail of the fence bordering thegarden at the back. Patience's enthusiasm was infectious. "What sortof good times do you mean?" she asked. 

"Picnics!"

"We have such a lot of picnics--year after year!"

"A nice picnic is always sort of new. Miranda does put up suchbeautiful lunches. O Paul, couldn't we afford chocolate layer cake_every_ time, now?"

"You goosey!" Pauline laughed again heartily. 

"And maybe there'll be an excursion somewhere's, and by'n'by there'llbe the town fair. Paul, there's a ripe berry! And another and--"

"See here, hold on, Impatience!" Pauline protested, as the berriesdisappeared, one after another, down Patience's small throat. "Perhaps, if you stop eating them all, we can get enough for mother'sand father's supper. "

"Maybe they went and hurried to get ripe for to-night, so we couldcelebrate, " Patience suggested. "Paul, mayn't I go with you next timeyou go over to The Maples?"

"We'll see what mother says. "

"I hate 'we'll see's'!" Patience declared, reaching so far over after aparticularly tempting berry, that she lost her balance, and fell facedown among them. 

"Oh, dear!" she sighed, as her sister came to her assistance, "something always seems to happen clean-apron afternoon! Paul, wouldn't it be a 'good time, ' if Miranda would agree not to scold 'boutperfectly unavoidable accidents once this whole summer?"

"Who's to do the deciding as to the unavoidableness?" Pauline asked. "Come on, Patience, we've got about all the ripe ones, and it must betime for you to lay the supper-table. "

"Not laying supper-tables would be another good time, " Patienceanswered. "We did get enough, didn't we? I'll hull them. "

"I wonder, " Pauline said, more as if speaking to herself, "whethermaybe mother wouldn't think it good to have Jane in now and then--forextra work? Not supper-tables, young lady. "

"Jane would love it. She likes to work with Miranda--she saysMiranda's such a nice lady. Do you think she is, Paul?"

"I'm thinking about other things just now. "

"I don't--There's mother. Goodness, Miranda's got the cloth on!"And away sped the child. 

To Patience's astonishment, nothing was said at supper, either of UnclePaul's letter, or the wonderful things it was to lead to. Mr. Shawkept his wife engaged with parish subjects and Pauline appeared lost inthoughts of her own. Patience fidgeted as openly as she dared. Of allqueer grown-ups--and it looked as though most grown-ups were more orless queer--father was certainly the queerest. Of course, he knewabout the letter; and how could he go on talking about stupid, uninteresting matters--like the Ladies' Aid and the new hymn books?

Even the first strawberries of the season passed unnoticed, as far ashe was concerned, though Mrs. Shaw gave Patience a little smiling nod, in recognition of them. 

"Mother, " Pauline exclaimed, the moment her father had gone back to hisstudy, "I've been thinking--Suppose we get Hilary to pretend--thatcoming home is coming to a _new_ place? That she is coming to visitus? We'll think up all the interesting things to do, that we can, andthe pretty places to show her. "

"That would be a good plan, Pauline. "

"And if she's company, she'll have to have the spare room, " Patienceadded. 

"Jolly for you, Patience!" Pauline said. "Only, mother, Hilary doesn'tlike the spare room; she says it's the dreariest room in the house. "

"If she's company, she'll have to pretend to like it, it wouldn't begood manners not to, " Patience observed. The prospect opening outahead of them seemed full of delightful possibilities. "I hope Mirandacatches on to the game, and gives us pound-cake and hot biscuits forsupper ever so often, and doesn't call me to do things, when I'm busyentertaining 'the company. '"

"Mother, " Pauline broke in--"do keep quiet. Impatience--couldn't we dothe spare room over--there's that twenty-five dollars? We've plannedit so often. "

"We might make some alterations, dear--at least. "

"We'll take stock the first thing to-morrow morning. I suppose wecan't really start in before Monday. "

"Hardly, seeing that it is Friday night. "

They were still talking this new idea over, though Patience had beensent to bed, when Mr. Shaw came in from a visit to a sick parishioner. "We've got the most beautiful scheme on hand, father, " Pauline toldhim, wheeling forward his favorite chair. She hoped he would sit downand talk things over with them, instead of going on to the study; itwouldn't be half as nice, if he stayed outside of everything. 

"New schemes appear to be rampant these days, " Mr. Shaw said, but hesettled himself comfortably in the big chair, quite as though he meantto stay with them. "What is this particular one?"

He listened, while Pauline explained, really listened, instead ofmerely seeming to. "It does appear an excellent idea, " he said; "butwhy should it be Hilary only, who is to try to see Winton with new eyesthis summer? Suppose we were all to do so?"

Pauline clapped her hands softly. "Then you'll help us? And we'll allpretend. Maybe Uncle Paul's thought isn't such a bad one, after all. "

"Paul always believed in developing the opportunities nearest hand, "Mr. Shaw answered. He stroked the head Towser laid against his knee. "Your mother and I will be the gainers--if we keep all our girls athome, and still achieve the desired end. "

Pauline glanced up quickly. How could she have thought himunheeding--indifferent?

"Somehow, I think it will work out all right, " she said. "Anyhow, we're going to try it, aren't we. Mother Shaw? Patience thinks it thebest idea ever, there'll be no urging needed there. "

Pauline went up to bed that night feeling strangely happy. For onething the uncertainty was over, and if they set to work to make thissummer full of interest, to break up the monotony and routine thatHilary found so irksome, the result must be satisfactory. And lastly, there was the comforting conviction, that whatever displeasure herfather had felt at first, at her taking the law into her own hands insuch unforeseen fashion, had disappeared now; and he was not going tostay "outside of things, " that was sure. 

The next morning, as soon as breakfast was over, Pauline ran up-stairsto the spare room. She threw open the shutters of the four windows, letting in the fresh morning air. The side windows faced west, andlooked out across the pleasant tree-shaded yard to the church; those atthe front faced south, overlooking the broad village street. 

In the bright sunlight, the big square room stood forth in all its primorderliness. "It is ugly, " Pauline decided, shaking her headdisapprovingly, but it had possibilities. No room, with four suchgenerous windows and--for the fire-board must come out--such a widedeep fireplace, could be without them. 

She turned, as her mother came in, duly attended by Patience. "It ishideous, isn't it, mother? The paper, I mean--and the carpet isn'tmuch better. It did very well, I suppose, for the visitingministers--probably they're too busy thinking over their sermons tonotice--but for Hilary--"

Mrs. Shaw smiled. "Perhaps you are right, dear. As to theunattractiveness of the paper--"

"We must repaper--that's sure; plain green, with a little touch ofcolor in the border, and, oh, Mother Shaw, wouldn't a green and whitematting be lovely?"

"And expensive, Pauline. "

"It wouldn't take all the twenty-five, I'm sure. Miranda'll do thepapering, I know. She did the study last year. Mother, couldn't wehave Jane in for the washing and ironing this week, and let Miranda getright at this room? I'll help with the ironing, too. "

"I suppose so, dear. Miranda is rather fussy about letting otherpeople do her regular work, you know. "

"I'll ask her. "

"And remember, Pauline, each day is going to bring new demands--don'tput all your eggs into one basket. "

"I won't. We needn't spend anything on this room except for the paperand matting. "

Half an hour later, Pauline was on her way down to the village storefor samples of paper. She had already settled the matter with Miranda, over the wiping of the breakfast dishes. 

Miranda had lived with the Shaws ever since Pauline was a baby, and wasa very important member of the family, both in her own and theiropinion. She was tall and gaunt, and somewhat severe looking; however, in her case, looks were deceptive. It would never have occurred toMiranda that the Shaws' interests were not her interests--sheconsidered herself an important factor in the upbringing of the threeyoung people. If she had a favorite, it was probably Hilary. 

"Hmn, " she said, when Pauline broached the subject of the spare room, "what put that notion in your head, I'd like to know! That paper ain'tgot a tear in it!"

So Pauline went further, telling her something of Uncle Paul's letterand how they hoped to carry his suggestion out. 

Miranda stood still, her hands in the dish water--"That's your pa's ownbrother, ain't it?"

Pauline nodded. "And Miranda--"

"I reckon he ain't much like the minister. Well, me an' Sarah Janeain't the least bit alike--if we are sisters. I guess I can manage'bout the papering. But it does go 'gainst me, having that sextonwoman in. Still, I reckon you can't be content, 'till we get started. Looking for the old gentleman up, later, be you?"

"For whom?" Pauline asked. 

"Your pa's brother. The minister's getting on, and the other one'sconsiderable older, I understand. "

"I don't think he will be up, " Pauline answered; she hadn't thought ofthat before. Suppose he should come! She wondered what he would belike. 

Half way down the street, Pauline was overtaken by her younger sister. "Are you going to get the new things now, Paul?" she asked eagerly. 

"Of course not, just get some samples. "

"There's always such a lot of getting ready first, " Patience sighed. "Paul, mother says I may go with you to-morrow afternoon. "

"All right, " Pauline agreed. "Only, you've got to promise not to 'hiyi' at Fanny all the way. "

"I won't--all the way. "

"And--Impatience?"

"Yes?"

"You needn't say what we want the new paper for, or anything about whatwe are planning to do--in the store I mean. "

"Mr. Ward would be mighty interested. "

"I dare say. "

"Miranda says you're beginning to put on considerable airs, sinceyou've been turning your hair up, Paul Shaw. When I put my hair up, I'm going on being just as nice and friendly with folks, as before, you'll see. "

Pauline laughed, which was not at all to Patience's liking. "All thesame, mind what I say, " she warned. 

"Can I help choose?" Patience asked, as they reached the store. 

"If you like. " Pauline went through to the little annex devoted towall papers and carpetings. It was rather musty and dull in there, Patience thought; she would have liked to make a slow round of thewhole store, exchanging greetings and various confidences with theother occupants. The store was a busy place on Saturday morning, andPatience knew every man, woman and child in Winton. 

They had got their samples and Pauline was lingering before a new lineof summer dressgoods just received, when the young fellow in charge ofthe post-office and telegraph station called to her: "I say, Miss Shaw, here's a message just come for you. "

"For me--" Pauline took it wonderingly. Her hands were trembling, shehad never received a telegram before--Was Hilary? Then she laughed atherself. To have sent a message, Mr. Boyd would have first beenobliged to come in to Winton. 

Out on the sidewalk, she tore open the envelope, not heeding Patience'scurious demands. It was from her uncle, and read--

"Have some one meet the afternoon train Saturday, am sending you an aidtowards your summer's outings. "

"Oh, " Pauline said, "do hurry, Patience. I want to get home as fast asI can. "

CHAPTER IV

BEGINNINGS

Sunday afternoon, Pauline and Patience drove over to The Maples to seeHilary. They stopped, as they went by, at the postoffice for Paulineto mail a letter to her uncle, which was something in the nature of avery enthusiastic postscript to the one she had written him Fridaynight, acknowledging and thanking him for his cheque, and telling himof the plans already under discussion. 

"And now, " Patience said, as they turned out of the wide main street, "we're really off. I reckon Hilary'll be looking for us, don't you?"

"I presume she will, " Pauline answered. 

"Maybe she'll want to come back with us. "

"Oh, I don't believe so. She knows mother wants her to stay the weekout. Listen, Patty--"

Patience sat up and took notice. When people Pattied her, it generallymeant they had a favor to ask, or something of the sort. 

"Remember, you're to be very careful not to let Hilarysuspect--anything. "

"About the room and--?"

"I mean--everything. "

"Won't she like it--all, when she does know?"

"Well, rather!"

Patience wriggled excitedly. "It's like having a fairy godmother, isn't it? And three wishes? If you'd had three wishes, Paul, wouldn'tyou've chosen--"

"You'd better begin quieting down, Patience, or Hilary can't helpsuspecting something. "

Patience drew a long breath. "If she knew--she wouldn't stay a singleday longer, would she?"

"That's one reason why she mustn't know. "

"When will you tell her; or is mother going to?"

"I don't know yet. See here, Patience, you may drive--if you won't hiyi. "

"Please, Paul, let me, when we get to the avenue. It's stupid comingto a place, like Fanny'd gone to sleep. "

"Not before--and only once then, " Pauline stipulated, and Patiencepossessed her soul in at least a faint semblance of patience until theyturned into the avenue of maples. Then she suddenly tightened her holdon the reins, bounced excitedly up and down, crying sharply--"Hi yi!"

Fanny instantly pricked up her ears, and, what was more to the purpose, actually started into what might almost have been called a trot. "There! you see!" Patience said proudly, as they turned into the yard. 

Hilary came down the porch steps. "I heard Impatience urging herRosinante on, " she laughed. "Why didn't you let her drive all the way, Paul? I've been watching for you since dinner. "

"We've been pretty nearly since dinner getting here, it seems to me, "Patience declared. "We had to wait for Paul to write a letter firstto--"

"Are you alone?" Pauline broke in hurriedly, asking the first questionthat came into her mind. 

Hilary smiled ruefully. "Not exactly. Mr. Boyd's asleep in thesitting-room, and Mrs. Boyd's taking a nap up-stairs in her own room. "

"You poor child!" Pauline said. "Jump out, Patience!"

"_Have_ you brought me something to read? I've finished both the booksI brought with me, and gone through a lot of magazines--queer oldthings, that Mrs. Boyd took years and years ago. "

"Then you've done very wrong, " Pauline told her severely, leading Fannyover to a shady spot at one side of the yard and tying her to thefence--a quite unnecessary act, as nothing would have induced Fanny totake her departure unsolicited. 

"Guess!" Pauline came back, carrying a small paper-covered parcel. "Father sent it to you. He was over at Vergennes yesterday. "

"Oh!" Hilary cried, taking it eagerly and sitting down on the steps. "It's a book, of course. " Even more than her sisters, she hadinherited her father's love of books, and a new book was an event atthe parsonage. "Oh, " she cried again, taking off the paper anddisclosing the pretty tartan cover within, "O Paul! It's 'Penelope'sProgress. ' Don't you remember those bits we read in those oddmagazines Josie lent us? And how we wanted to read it all?"

Pauline nodded. "I reckon mother told father about it; I saw herfollowing him out to the gig yesterday morning. "

They went around to the little porch leading from Hilary's room, alwaysa pleasant spot in the afternoons. 

"Why, " Patience exclaimed, "it's like an out-door parlor, isn't it?"

There was a big braided mat on the floor of the porch, its colorsrather faded by time and use, but looking none the worse for that, acouple of rockers, a low stool, and a small table, covered with a bitof bright cretonne. On it stood a blue and white pitcher filled withfield flowers, beside it lay one or two magazines. Just outside, extending from one of the porch posts to the limb of an old cherrytree, hung Hilary's hammock, gay with cushions. 

"Shirley did it yesterday afternoon, " Hilary explained. "She was overhere a good while. Mrs. Boyd let us have the things and the chintz forthe cushions, Shirley made them, and we filled them with hay. "

Pauline, sitting on the edge of the low porch, looked about her withappreciative eyes. "How pleasant and cozy it is, and after all, itonly took a little time and trouble. "

Hilary laid her new book on the table. "How soon do you suppose we cango over to the manor, Paul? I imagine the Dayres have fixed it upmighty pretty. Mr. Dayre was over here, last night. He and Shirleyare ever so--chummy. He's Shirley Putnam Dayre, and she's ShirleyPutnam Dayre, Junior. So he calls her 'Junior' and she calls him'Senior. ' They're just like brother and sister. He's an artist, they've been everywhere together. And, Paul, they think Winton isdelightful. Mr. Dayre says the village street, with its greatoverhanging trees, and old-fashioned houses, is a picture in itself, particularly up at our end, with the church, all ivy-covered. He meansto paint the church sometime this summer. "

"It would make a pretty picture, " Pauline said thoughtfully. "Hilary, I wonder--"

"So do I, " Hilary said. "Still, after all, one would like to seedifferent places--"

"And love only one, " Pauline added; she turned to her sister. "You arebetter, aren't you--already?"

"I surely am. Shirley's promised to take me out on the lake soon. She's going to be friends with us, Paul--really friends. She says wemust call her 'Shirley, ' that she doesn't like 'Miss Dayre, ' she hearsit so seldom. "

"I think it's nice--being called 'Miss, '" Patience remarked, from whereshe had curled herself up in the hammock. "I suppose she doesn't wantit, because she can have it--I'd love to be called 'Miss Shaw. '"

"Hilary, " Pauline said, "would you mind very much, if you couldn't goaway this summer?"

"It wouldn't do much good if I did, would it?"

"The not minding would--to mother and the rest of us--"

"And if you knew what--" Patience began excitedly. 

"Don't you want to go find Captain, Impatience?" Pauline asked hastily, and Patience, feeling that she had made a false move, went with mostunusual meekness. 

"Know what?" Hilary asked. 

"I--shouldn't wonder, if the child had some sort of scheme on hand, "Pauline said, she hoped she wasn't--prevaricating; after all, Patienceprobably did have some scheme in her head--she usually had. 

"I haven't thought much about going away the last day or so, " Hilarysaid. "I suppose it's the feeling better, and, then, the getting toknow Shirley. "

"I'm glad of that. " Pauline sat silent for some moments; she waswatching a fat bumble bee buzzing in and out among the flowers in thegarden. It was always still, over here at the farm, but to-day, itseemed a different sort of stillness, as if bees and birds and flowersknew that it was Sunday afternoon. 

"Paul, " Hilary asked suddenly, "what are you smiling to yourself about?"

"Was I smiling? I didn't know it. I guess because it is so nice andpeaceful here and because--Hilary, let's start a club--the 'S. W. F. Club. '"

"The what?"

"The 'S. W. F. Club. ' No, I shan't tell you what the letters standfor! You've got to think it out for yourself. "

"A real club, Paul?"

"Indeed, yes. "

"Who's to belong?"

"Oh, lots of folks. Josie and Tom, and you and I--and I think, maybe, mother and father. "

"Father! To belong to a club!"

"It was he who put the idea into my head. "

Hilary came to sit beside her sister on the step. "Paul, I've afeeling that there is something--up! And it isn't the barometer!"

"Where did you get it?"

"From you. "

Pauline sprang up. "Feelings are very unreliable things to go by, butI've one just now--that if we don't hunt Impatience up prettyquick--there will be something doing. "

They found Patience sitting on the barn floor, utterly regardless ofher white frock. A whole family of kittens were about her. 

"Aren't they dears!" Patience demanded. 

"Mrs. Boyd says I may have my choice, to take home with me, " Hilarysaid. The parsonage cat had died the fall before, and had had nosuccessor as yet. 

Patience held up a small coal-black one. "Choose this, Hilary!Miranda says a black cat brings luck, though it don't look like weneeded any black cats to bring--"

"I like the black and white one, " Pauline interposed, just touchingPatience with the tip of her shoe. 

"Maybe Mrs. Boyd would give us each one, that would leave one for her, "Patience suggested cheerfully. 

"I imagine mother would have something to say to that, " Pauline toldher. "Was Josie over yesterday, Hilary?"

Hilary nodded. "In the morning. "

As they were going back to the house, they met Mr. Boyd, on his way topay his regular weekly visit to the far pasture. 

"Going to salt the colts?" Patience asked. "Please, mayn't I come?"

"There won't be time, Patience, " Pauline said. 

"Not time!" Mr. Boyd objected, "I'll be back to supper, and you girlsare going to stay to supper. " He carried Patience off with him, declaring that he wasn't sure he should let her go home at all, hemeant to keep her altogether some day, and why not to-night?

"Oh, I couldn't stay to-night, " the child assured him earnestly. "Ofcourse, I couldn't ever stay for always, but by'n'by, when--there isn'tso much going on at home--there's such a lot of things keep happeningat home now, only don't tell Hilary, please--maybe, I could come makeyou a truly visit. "

Indoors, Pauline and Hilary found Mrs. Boyd down-stairs again from hernap. "You ain't come after Hilary?" she questioned anxiously. 

"Only to see her, " Pauline answered, and while she helped Mrs. Boyd getsupper, she confided to her the story of Uncle Paul's letter and theplans already under way. 

Mrs. Boyd was much interested. "Bless me, it'll do her a heap of good, you'll see, my dear. I'm not sure, I don't agree with your uncle, whenall's said and done, home's the best place for young folks. "

Just before Pauline and Patience went home that evening, Mrs. Boydbeckoned Pauline mysteriously into the best parlor. "I always meanther to have them some day--she being my god-child--and maybe they'll doher as much good now, as any time, she'll want to fix up a bit now andthen, most likely. Shirley had on a string of them last night, but notto compare with these. " Mrs. Boyd was kneeling before a trunk in theparlor closet, and presently she put a little square shell box intoPauline's bands. "Box and all, just like they came to me--you know, they were my grandmother's--but Hilary's a real careful sort of girl. "

"But, Mrs. Boyd--I'm not sure that mother would--" Pauline knew quitewell what was in the box. 

"That's all right! You just slip them in Hilary's top drawer, whereshe'll come across them without expecting it. Deary me, I never wearthem, and as I say, I've always meant to give them to her some day. "

"She'll be perfectly delighted--and they'll look so pretty. Hilary'sgot a mighty pretty neck, I think. " Pauline went out to the gig, thelittle box hidden carefully in her blouse, feeling that Patience wasright and that these were very fairy-story sort of days. 

"You'll be over again soon, won't you?" Hilary urged. 

"We're going to be tre-men-dous-ly busy, " Patience began, but hersister cut her short. 

"As soon as I can, Hilary. Mind you go on getting better. "

By Monday noon, the spare room had lost its look of prim order. In theafternoon, Pauline and her mother went down to the store to buy thematting. There was not much choice to be had, and the only green andwhite there was, was considerably beyond the limit they had allowedthemselves. 

"Never mind, " Pauline said cheerfully, "plain white will look ever socool and pretty--perhaps, the green would fade. I'm going to believeso. "

Over a low wicker sewing-chair, she did linger longingly; it would lookso nice beside one of the west windows. She meant to place a low tablefor books and work between those side windows. In the end, prudencewon the day, and surely, the new paper and matting were enough to begrateful for in themselves. 

By the next afternoon the paper was on and the matting down. Paulinewas up garret rummaging, when she heard someone calling her from thefoot of the stairs. "I'm here, Josie, " she called back, and her friendcame running up. 

"What are you doing?" she asked. 

Pauline held up an armful of old-fashioned chintz. 

"Oh, how pretty!" Josie exclaimed. "It makes one think of high-waisteddresses, and minuets and things like that. "

Pauline laughed. "They were my great-grandmother's bed curtains. "

"Goodness! What are you going to do with them?"

"I'm not sure mother will let me do anything. I came across them justnow in looking for some green silk she said I might have to coverHilary's pin-cushion with. "

"For the new room? Patience has been doing the honors of the new paperand matting--it's going to be lovely, I think. "

Pauline scrambled to her feet, shaking out the chintz: "If only motherwould--it's pink and green--let's go ask her. "

"What do you want to do with it, Pauline?" Mrs. Shaw asked. 

"I haven't thought that far--use it for draperies of some kind, Isuppose, " the girl answered. 

They were standing in the middle of the big, empty room. Suddenly, Josie gave a quick exclamation, pointing to the bare corner between thefront and side windows. "Wouldn't a cozy corner be delightful--withcover and cushions of the chintz?"

"May we, mother?" Pauline begged in a coaxing tone. 

"I suppose so, dear--only where is the bench part to come from?"

"Tom'll make the frame for it, I'll go get him this minute, " Josieanswered. 

"And you might use that single mattress from up garret, " Mrs. Shawsuggested. 

Pauline ran up to inspect it, and to see what other treasures might beforthcoming. The garret was a big, shadowy place, extending over thewhole house, and was lumber room, play place and general refuge, all inone. 

Presently, from under the eaves, she drew forward a littleold-fashioned sewing-chair, discarded on the giving out of its caneseat. "But I could tack a piece of burlap on and cover it with acushion, " Pauline decided, and bore it down in triumph to the new room, where Tom Brice was already making his measurements for the cozy corner. 

Josie was on the floor, measuring for the cover. "Isn't it fun, Paul?Tom says it won't take long to do his part. "

Tom straightened himself, slipping his rule into his pocket. "I don'tsee what you want it for, though, " he said. 

"'Yours not to reason why--'" Pauline told him. "We see, and so willHilary. Don't you and Josie want to join the new club--the 'S. W. F. Club'?"

"Society of Willing Females, I suppose?" Tom remarked. 

"It sounds like some sort of sewing circle, " Josie said. 

Pauline sat down in one of the wide window places. "I'm not sure itmight not take in both. It is--'The Seeing Winton First Club. '"

Josie looked as though she didn't quite understand, but Tom whistledsoftly. "What else have you been doing for the past fifteen years, ifyou please, ma'am?" he asked quizzically. 

Pauline laughed. "One ought to know a place rather thoroughly infifteen years, I suppose; but--I'm hoping we can make it seem at leasta little bit new and different this summer--for Hilary. You see, weshan't be able to send her away, and so, I thought, perhaps, if wetried looking at Winton--with new eyes--"

"I see, " Josie cried. "I think it's a splendiferous ideal"

"And, I thought, if we formed a sort of club among ourselves and workedtogether--"

"Listen, " Josie interrupted again, "we'll make it a condition ofmembership, that each one must, in turn, think up something pleasant todo. "

"Is the membership to be limited?" Tom asked. 

Pauline smiled. "It will be so--necessarily--won't it?" For Wintonwas not rich in young people. 

"There will be enough of us, " Josie declared hopefully. 

"Like the model dinner party?" her brother asked. "Not less than theGraces, nor more than the Muses. "

And so the new club was formed then and there. There were to be noregular and formal meetings, no dues, nor fines, and each member was toconsider himself, or herself, an active member of the programmecommittee. 

Tom, as the oldest member of their immediate circle of friends, waschosen president before that first meeting adjourned; no other officerswere considered necessary at the time. And being president, to him waspromptly delegated the honor--despite his vigorous protests--ofarranging for their first outing and notifying the other members--yetto be. 

"But, " he expostulated, "what's a fellow to think up--in a hole likethis?"

"Winton isn't a hole!" his sister protested. It was one of the chiefoccupations of Josie's life at present, to contradict all suchheretical utterances on Tom's part. He was to go away that fall tocommence his studies for the medical profession, for it was Dr. Brice'sgreat desire that, later, his son should assist him in his practice. But, so far, Tom though wanting to follow his father's profession, wasfirm in his determination, not to follow it in Winton. 

"And remember, " Pauline said, as the three went down-stairs together, "that it's the first step that counts--and to think up something verydelightful, Tom. "

"It mustn't be a picnic, I suppose? Hilary won't be up to picnics yetawhile. "

"N-no, and we want to begin soon. She'll be back Friday, I think, "Pauline answered. 

By Wednesday night the spare room was ready for the expected guest. "It's as if someone had waved a fairy wand over it, isn't it?" Patiencesaid delightedly. "Hilary'll be so surprised. "

"I think she will and--pleased. " Pauline gave one of the cushions inthe cozy corner a straightening touch, and drew the windowshades--Miranda had taken them down and turned them--a little lower. 

"It's a regular company room, isn't it?" Patience said joyously. 

The minister drove over to The Maples himself on Friday afternoon tobring Hilary home. 

"Remember, " Patience pointed a warning forefinger at him, just as hewas starting, "not a single solitary hint!"

"Not a single solitary one, " he promised. 

As he turned out of the gate. Patience drew a long breath. "Well, he's off at last! But, oh, dear, however can we wait 'til he getsback?"

CHAPTER V

BEDELIA

It was five o'clock that afternoon when Patience, perched, a littlewhite-clad sentry, on the gate-post, announced joyously--"They'recoming! They're coming!"

Patience was as excited as if the expected "guest" were one in fact, aswell as name. It was fun to be playing a game of make-believe, inwhich the elders took part. 

As the gig drew up before the steps, Hilary looked eagerly out. "Willyou tell me, " she demanded, "why father insisted on coming 'round thelower road, by the depot--he didn't stop, and he didn't get any parcel?And when I asked him, he just laughed and looked mysterious. "

"He went, " Pauline answered, "because we asked him to--company usuallycomes by train--real out-of-town company, you know. "

"Like visiting ministers and returned missionaries, " Patience explained. 

Hilary looked thoroughly bewildered. "But are you expecting company?You must be, " she glanced from one to another, "you're all dressed up, "

"We were expecting some, dear, " her mother told her, "but she hasarrived. "

"Don't you see? You're it!" Patience danced excitedly about her sister. 

"I'm the company!" Hilary said wonderingly. Then her eyes lighted up. "I understand! How perfectly dear of you all. "

Mrs. Shaw patted the hand Hilary slipped into hers. "You have comeback a good deal better than you went, my dear. The change has doneyou good. "

"And it didn't turn out a stupid--half-way affair, after all, " Hilarydeclared. "I've had a lovely time. Only, I simply had to come home, Ifelt somehow--that--that--"

"We were expecting company?" Pauline laughed. "And you wanted to behere?"

"I reckon that was it, " Hilary agreed. As she sat there, resting amoment, before going up-stairs, she hardly seemed the same girl who hadgone away so reluctantly only eight days before. The change of scene, the outdoor life, the new friendship, bringing with it new interests, had worked wonders, "And now, " Pauline suggested, taking up her sister's valise, "perhapsyou would like to go up to your room--visitors generally do. "

"To rest after your journey, you know, " Patience prompted. Patiencebelieved in playing one's part down to the minutest detail. 

"Thank you, " Hilary answered, with quite the proper note of formalityin her voice, "if you don't mind; though I did not find the trip asfatiguing as I had expected. "

But from the door, she turned back to give her mother a second and mostuncompany-like hug. "It is good to be home, Mother Shaw! And please, you don't want to pack me off again anywhere right away--at least, allby myself?"

"Not right away, " her mother answered, kissing her. 

"I guess you will think it is good to be home, when youknow--everything, " Patience announced, accompanying her sistersup-stairs, but on the outside of the banisters. 

"Patty!" Pauline protested laughingly--"Was there ever such a child forletting things out!"

"I haven't!" the child exclaimed, "only now--it can't make anydifference. "

"There is mystery in the very air!" Hilary insisted. "Oh, what haveyou all been up to?"

"You're not to go in there!" Patience cried, as Hilary stopped beforethe door of her own and Pauline's room. 

"Of course you're not, " Pauline told her. "It strikes me, forcompany--you're making yourself very much at home! Walking intopeoples' rooms. " She led the way along the hall to the spare room, throwing the door wide open. 

"Oh!" Hilary cried, then stood quite still on the threshold, lookingabout her with wide, wondering eyes. 

The spare room was grim and gray no longer. Hilary felt as if she mustbe in some strange, delightful dream. The cool green of the wallpaper, with the soft touch of pink in ceiling and border, the freshwhite matting, the cozy corner opposite--with its delicateold-fashioned chintz drapery and big cushions, the new toiletcovers--white over green, the fresh curtains at the windows, thecushioned window seats, the low table and sewing-chair, even her ownnarrow white bed, with its new ruffled spread, all went to make a roomas strange to her, as it was charming and unexpected. 

"Oh, " she said again, turning to her mother, who had followed themup-stairs, and stood waiting just outside the door. "How perfectlylovely it all is--but it isn't for me?"

"Of course it is, " Patience said. "Aren't you company--you aren't justHilary now, you're 'Miss Shaw' and you're here on a visit; and there'scompany asked to supper to-morrow night, and it's going to be such fun!"

Hilary's color came and went. It was something deeper and better thanfun. She understood now why they had done this--why Pauline had saidthat--about her not going away; there was a sudden lump in the girl'sthroat--she was glad, so glad, she had said that downstairs----aboutnot wanting to go away. 

And when her mother and Patience had gone down-stairs again and Paulinehad begun to unpack the valise, as she had unpacked it a week ago atThe Maples, Hilary sat in the low chair by one of the west windows, herhands folded in her lap, looking about this new room of hers. 

"There, " Pauline said presently, "I believe that's all now--you'dbetter lie down, Hilary--I'm afraid you're tired. "

"No, I'm not; at any rate, not very. I'll lie down if you like, only Iknow I shan't be able to sleep. "

Pauline lowered the pillow and threw a light cover over her. "There'ssomething in the top drawer of the dresser, " she said, "but you're notto look at it until you've lain down at least half an hour. "

"I feel as if I were in an enchanted palace, ", Hilary said, "with somany delightful surprises being sprung on me all the while. " AfterPauline had gone, she lay watching the slight swaying of the wild rosesin the tall jar on the hearth. The wild roses ran rampant in thelittle lane leading from the back of the church down past the oldcottage where Sextoness Jane lived. Jane had brought these with herthat morning, as her contribution to the new room. 

To Hilary, as to Patience, it seemed as if a magic wand had been waved, transforming the old dull room into a place for a girl to live anddream in. But for her, the name of the wand was Love. 

There must be no more impatient longings, no fretful repinings, shetold herself now. She must not be slow to play her part in this newgame that had been originated all for her. 

The half-hour up, she slipped from the bed and began unbuttoning herblue-print frock. Being company, it stood to reason she must dress forsupper. But first, she must find out what was in the upper drawer. 

The first glimpse of the little shell box, told her that. There weretears in Hilary's gray eyes, as she stood slipping the gold beadsslowly through her fingers. How good everyone was to her; for thefirst time some understanding of the bright side even of sickness--andshe had not been really sick, only run-down--and, yes, she had beencross and horrid, lots of times--came to her. 

"I'll go over just as soon as I can and thank her, " the girl thought, clasping the beads about her neck, "and I'll keep them always andalways. "

A little later, she came down-stairs all in white, a spray of the pinkand white wild roses in her belt, her soft, fair hair freshly brushedand braided. She had been rather neglectful of her hair lately. 

There was no one on the front piazza but her father, and he looked upfrom his book with a smile of pleasure. "My dear, how well you arelooking! It is certainly good to see you at home again, and quite yourold self. "

Hilary came to sit on the arm of his chair. "It is good to be at homeagain. I suppose you know all the wonderful surprises I found waitingme?"

"Supper's ready, " Patience proclaimed from the doorway. "Please come, because--" she caught herself up, putting a hand into Hilary's, "I'llshow you where to sit, Miss Shaw. "

Hilary laughed. "How old are you, my dear?" she asked, in the tonefrequently used by visiting ministers. 

"I'm a good deal older than I'm treated generally, " Patience answered. "Do you like Winton?"

"I am sure I shall like it very much. " Hilary slipped into the chairPatience drew forward politely. "The company side of the table--sureenough, " she laughed. 

"It isn't proper to say things to yourself sort of low down in yourvoice, " Patience reproved her, then at a warning glance from her mothersubsided into silence as the minister took his place. 

For to-night, at least, Miranda had amply fulfilled Patience's hopes, as to company suppers. And she, too, played her part in the new game, calling Hilary "Miss, " and never by any chance intimating that she hadseen her before. 

"Did you go over to the manor to see Shirley?" Patience asked. 

Hilary shook her head. "I promised her Pauline and I would be oversoon. We may have Fanny some afternoon, mayn't we, father?"

Patience's blue eyes danced. "They can't have Fanny, can they, father?" she nodded at him knowingly. 

Hilary eyed her questioningly. "What is the matter, Patience?"

"Nothing is the matter with her, " Pauline said hurriedly. "Don't payany attention to her. "

"Only, if you would hurry, " Patience implored. "I--I can't wait muchlonger!"

"Wait!" Hilary asked. "For what?"

Patience pushed back her chair. "For--Well, if you just knew what for, Hilary Shaw, you'd do some pretty tall hustling!"

"Patience!" her father said reprovingly. 

"May I be excused, mother?" Patience asked. "I'll wait out on theporch. "

And Mrs. Shaw replied most willingly that she might. 

"Is there anything more--to see, I mean, not to eat?" Hilary asked. "Idon't see how there can be. "

"Are you through?" Pauline answered. "Because, if you are, I'll showyou. "

"It was sent to Paul, " Patience called, from the hall door. "But shesays, of course, it was meant for us all; and I think, myself, she'sright about that. "

"Is it--alive?" Hilary asked. 

"'It' was--before supper, " Pauline told her. "I certainly hope nothinghas happened to--'it' since then. "

"A dog?" Hilary suggested. 

"Wait and see; by the way, where's that kitten?"

"She's to follow in a few days; she was a bit too young to leave homejust yet. "

"I've got the sugar!" Patience called. 

Hilary stopped short at the foot of the porch steps. Patience'sremark, if it had not absolutely let the cat out of the bag, had atleast opened the bag. "Paul, it can't be--"

"In the Shaw's dictionary, at present, there doesn't appear to be anysuch word as can't, " Pauline declared. "Come on---after all, you know, the only way to find out--is to find out. "

Patience had danced on ahead down the path to the barn. She stoodwaiting for them now in the broad open doorway, her whole small personone animated exclamation point, while Towser, just home from aleisurely round of afternoon visits, came forward to meet Hilary, wagging a dignified welcome. 

"If you don't hurry, I'll 'hi yi' you, like I do Fanny!" Patiencewarned them. She moved to one side, to let Hilary go on into the barn. "Now!" she demanded, "isn't that something more?"

From the stall beside Fanny's, a horse's head reached inquiringly outfor the sugar with which already she had come to associate the frequentvisits of these new friends. She was a pretty, well-made, little mare, light sorrel, with white markings, and with a slender, intelligent face. 

Hilary stood motionless, too surprised to speak. 

"Her name's Bedelia, " Patience said, doing the honors. "She's veryclever, she knows us all already. Fanny hasn't been very polite toher, and she knows it--Bedelia does, I mean--sometimes, when Fannyisn't looking, I've caught Bedelia sort of laughing at her--and I don'tblame her one bit. And, oh, Hilary, she can go--there's no need to 'hiyi' her. "

"But--" Hilary turned to Pauline. 

"Uncle Paul sent her, " Pauline explained. "She came last Saturdayafternoon. One of the men from Uncle Paul's place in the countrybrought her. She was born and bred at River Lawn--that's Uncle Paul'splace--he says. "

Hilary stroked the glossy neck gently, if Pauline had said the Sultanof Turkey, instead of Uncle Paul, she could hardly have been moresurprised. "Uncle Paul--sent her to you!" she said slowly. 

"To _us_. "

"Bless me, that isn't all he sent, " Patience exclaimed. It seemed toPatience that they never would get to the end of their story. "Youjust come look at this, Hilary Shaw!" she ran on through the openingconnecting carriage-house with stable. 

"Oh!" Hilary cried, following with Pauline. 

Beside the minister's shabby old gig, stood the smartest of smarttraps, and hanging on the wall behind it, a pretty russet harness, withsilver mountings. 

Hilary sat down on an old saw horse; she felt again as though she mustbe dreaming. 

"There isn't another such cute rig in town, Jim says so, " Patiencesaid. Jim was the stable boy. "It beats Bell Ward's all to pieces. "

"But why--I mean, how did Uncle Paul ever come to send it to us?"Hilary said. Of course one had always known that therewas--somewhere--a person named Uncle Paul; but he had appeared about asremote and indefinite a being as--that same Sultan of Turkey, forinstance. 

"After all, why shouldn't he?" Pauline answered. 

"But I don't believe he would've if Paul had not written to him thattime, " Patience added. "Maybe next time I tell you anything, you'llbelieve me, Hilary Shaw. "

But Hilary was staring at Pauline. "You didn't write to Uncle Paul?"

"I'm afraid I did. "

"Was--was that the letter--you remember, that afternoon?"

"I rather think I do remember. "

"Paul, how did you ever dare?"

"I was in the mood to dare anything that day. "

"And did he answer; but of course he did. "

"Yes--he answered. Though not right away. "

"Was it a nice letter? Did he mind your having written? Paul, youdidn't ask him to send you--these, " Hilary waved her hand rathervaguely. 

"Hardly--he did that all on his own. It wasn't a bad sort of letter, I'll tell you about it by and by. We can go to the manor in style now, can't we--even if father can't spare Fanny. Bedelia's perfectlygentle, I've driven her a little ways once or twice, to make sure. Father insisted on going with me. We created quite a sensation downstreet, I assure you. "

"And Mrs. Dane said, " Patience cut in, "that in her young days, clergymen didn't go kiting 'bout the country in such high-fangled rigs. "

"Never mind what Mrs. Dane said, or didn't say, " Pauline told her. 

"Miranda says, what Mrs. Dane hasn't got to say on any subject, wouldn't make you tired listening to it. "

"Patience, if you don't stop repeating what everyone says, I shall--"

"If you speak to mother--then you'll be repeating, " Patience declared. "Maybe, I oughtn't to have said those things before--company. "

"I think we'd better go back to the house now, " Pauline suggested. 

"Sextoness Jane says, " Patience remarked, "that she'd have sure admiredto have a horse and rig like that, when she was a girl. She says, shedoesn't suppose you'll be passing by her house very often. "

"And, now, please, " Hilary pleaded, when she had been established inher hammock on the side porch, with her mother in her chair close by, and Pauline sitting on the steps, "I want to hear--everything. I'mwhat Miranda calls 'fair mazed. '"

So Pauline told nearly everything, blurring some of the details alittle and getting to that twenty-five dollars a month, with which theywere to do so much, as quickly as possible. 

"O Paul, really, " Hilary sat up among her cushions--"Why, it'llbe--riches, won't it?"

"It seems so. "

"But--Oh, I'm afraid you've spent all the first twenty-five on me; andthat's not a fair division--is it, Mother Shaw?"

"We used it quite according to Hoyle, " Pauline insisted. "We got ourfun that way, didn't we, Mother Shaw?"

Their mother smiled. "I know I did. "

"All the same, after this, you've simply got to 'drink fair, Betsy, ' soremember, " Hilary warned them. 

"Bedtime, Patience, " Mrs. Shaw said, and Patience got slowly out of herbig, wicker armchair. 

"I did think--seeing there was company, --that probably you'd like me tostay up a little later to-night. "

"If the 'company' takes my advice, she'll go, too, " her mother answered. 

"The 'company' thinks she will. " Hilary slipped out of the hammock. "Mother, do you suppose Miranda's gone to bed yet?"

"I'll go see, " Patience offered, willing to postpone the inevitable foreven those few moments longer. 

"What do you want with Miranda?" Pauline asked. 

"To do something for me. "

"Can't I do it?"

"No--and it must be done to-night. Mother, what are you smiling over?"

"I thought it would be that way, dear. "

"Miranda's coming, " Patience called. "She'd just taken her backhair down, and she's waiting to twist it up again. She's got awfulfunny back hair. "

"Patience! Patience!" her mother said reprovingly. 

"I mean, there's such a little--"

"Go up-stairs and get yourself ready for bed at once. "

Miranda was waiting in the spare room. "You ain't took sick, Hilary?"

Hilary shook her head. "Please, Miranda, if it wouldn't be too muchtrouble, will you bring Pauline's bed in here?"

"I guessed as much, " Miranda said, moving Hilary's bed to one side. 

"Hilary--wouldn't you truly rather have a room to yourself--for achange?" Pauline asked. 

"I have had one to myself--for eight days--and, now I'm going back tothe old way. " Sitting among the cushions of the cozy corner, Hilarysuperintended operations, and when the two single white beds werestanding side by side, in their accustomed fashion, the covers turnedback for the night, she nodded in satisfied manner. "Thank you somuch, Miranda; that's as it should be. Go get your things, Paul. To-morrow, you must move in regularly. Upper drawer between us, andthe rest share and share alike, you know. "

Patience, who had hit upon the happy expedient of braiding herhair--braids, when there were a lot of them, took a long time--gotslowly up from the hearth rug, her head a sight to behold, with itstiny, hornlike red braids sticking out in every direction. "I supposeI'd better be going. I wish I had someone to talk to, after I'd goneto bed. " And a deep sigh escaped her. 

Pauline kissed the wistful little face. "Never mind, old girl, youknow you'd never stay awake long enough to talk to anyone. "

She and Hilary stayed awake talking, however, until Pauline's prudencegot the better of her joy in having her sister back in more senses thanone. It was so long since they had had such a delightful bedtime talk. 

"Seeing Winton First Club, " Hilary said musingly. "Paul, you're everso clever. Shirley insisted those letters stood for 'Suppression ofWoman's Foibles Club'; and Mr. Dayre suggested they meant, 'Sweet WildFlowers. '"

"You've simply got to go to sleep now, Hilary, else mother'll come andtake me away. "

Hilary sighed blissfully. "I'll never say again--that nothing everhappens to us. "

Tom and Josie came to supper the next night. Shirley was there, too, she had stopped in on her way to the post-office with her father thatafternoon, to ask how Hilary was, and been captured and kept to supperand the first club meeting that followed. 

Hilary had been sure she would like to join, and Shirley's prompt anddelighted acceptance of their invitation proved her right. 

"I've only got five names on my list, " Tom said, as the young folkssettled themselves on the porch after supper. "I suppose we'll thinkof others later. "

"That'll make ten, counting us five, to begin with, " Pauline said. 

"Bell and Jack Ward, " Tom took out his list, "the Dixon boys and EdnaRay. That's all. "

"I'd just like to know where I come in, Tom Brice!" Patience demanded, her voice vibrant with indignation. 

"Upon my word! I didn't suppose--"

"I am to belong! Ain't I, Paul?"

"But Patty--"

"If you're going to say no, you needn't Patty me!"

"We'll see what mother thinks, " Hilary suggested. "You wouldn't wantto be the only little girl to belong?"

"I shouldn't mind, " Patience assured her, then feeling pretty sure thatPauline was getting ready to tell her to run away, she decided toretire on her own account. That blissful time, when she should be"Miss Shaw, " had one drawback, which never failed to assert itself attimes like these--there would be no younger sister subject to herauthority. 

"Have you decided what we are to do?" Pauline asked Tom, when Patiencehad gone. 

"I should say I had. You'll be up to a ride by next Thursday, Hilary?Not a very long ride. "

"I'm sure I shall, " Hilary answered eagerly. "Where are we going?"

"That's telling. "

"He won't even tell me, " Josie said. 

Tom's eyes twinkled. "You're none of you to know until next Thursday. Say, at four o'clock. "

"Oh, " Shirley said, "I think it's going to be the nicest club that everwas. "

CHAPTER VI

PERSONALLY CONDUCTED

"Am I late?" Shirley asked, as Pauline came down the steps to meet herThursday afternoon. 

"No, indeed, it still wants five minutes to four. Will you come in, orshall we wait out here? Hilary is under bond not to make herappearance until the last minute. "

"Out here, please, " Shirley answered, sitting down on the upper step. "What a delightful old garden this is. Father has at last succeeded infinding me my nag, horses appear to be at a premium in Winton, and evenif he isn't first cousin to your Bedelia, I'm coming to take you andHilary to drive some afternoon. Father got me a surrey, because, later, we're expecting some of the boys up, and we'll need a two-seatedrig. "

"We're coming to take you driving, too, " Pauline said. "Just atpresent, it doesn't seem as if the summer would be long enough for allthe things we mean to do in it. "

"And you don't know yet, what we are to do this afternoon?"

"Only, that it's to be a drive and, afterwards, supper at the Brices'. That's all Josie, herself, knows about it. Tom had to take her andMrs. Brice into so much of his confidence. "

Through the drowsy stillness of the summer afternoon, came the notes ofa horn, sounding nearer and nearer. A moment later, a stage drawn bytwo of the hotel horses turned in at the parsonage drive at a finespeed, drawing up before the steps where Pauline and Shirley weresitting, with considerable nourish. Beside the driver sat Tom, in longlinen duster, the megaphone belonging to the school team in one hand. Along each side of the stage was a length of white cloth, on which waslettered--

 SEEING WINTON STAGE

As the stage stopped, Tom sprang down, a most businesslike air on hisboyish face. 

"This is the Shaw residence, I believe?" he asked, consulting a pieceof paper. 

"I--I reckon so, " Pauline answered, too taken aback to know quite whatshe was saying. 

"All right!" Tom said. "I understand--"

"Then it's a good deal more than I do, " Pauline cut in. 

"That there are several young people here desirous of joining ourlittle sight-seeing trip this afternoon. "

From around the corner of the house at that moment peeped a smallfreckled face, the owner of which was decidedly very desirous ofjoining that trip. Only a deep sense of personal injury kept Patiencefrom coming forward, --she wasn't going where she wasn't wanted--butsome day--they'd see!

Shirley clapped her hands delightedly. "How perfectly jolly! Oh, I amglad you asked me to join the club. "

"I'll go tell Hilary!" Pauline said. "Tom, however--"

"I beg your pardon, Miss?"

Pauline laughed and turned away. 

"Oh, I say, Paul, " Tom dropped his mask of pretended dignity, "let theImp come with us--this time. "

Pauline looked doubtful. She, as well as Tom, had caught sight of thatsmall flushed face, on which longing and indignation had been soplainly written. "I'm not sure that mother will--" she began, "ButI'll see. "

"Tell her--just this first time, " Tom urged, and Shirley added, "Shewould love it so. "

"Mother says, " Pauline reported presently, "that Patience may go _this_time--only we'll have to wait while she gets ready. "

From an upper window came an eager voice. "I'm most ready now!"

"She'll never forget it--as long as she lives, " Shirley said, "and ifshe hadn't gone she would never've forgotten _that_. "

"Nor let us--for one while, " Pauline remarked--"I'd a good deal ratherwork with than against that young lady. "

Hilary came down then, looking ready and eager for the outing. She hadbeen out in the trap with Pauline several times; once, even as far asthe manor to call upon Shirley. 

"Why, " she exclaimed, "you've brought the Folly! Tom, how ever did youmanage it?"

"Beg pardon, Miss?"

Hilary shrugged her shoulders, coming nearer for a closer inspection ofthe big lumbering stage. It had been new, when the present proprietorof the hotel, then a young man, now a middle-aged one, had come intohis inheritance. Fresh back from a winter in town, he had indulgedhigh hopes of booming his sleepy little village as a summer resort, andhad ordered the stage--since christened the Folly--for the convenienceand enjoyment of the guests--who had never come. A long idle lifetimethe Folly had passed in the hotel carriage-house; used so seldom, as tomake that using a village event, but never allowed to fall intodisrepair, through some fancy of its owner. 

As Tom opened the door at the back now, handing his guests in with muchceremony, Hilary laughed softly. "It doesn't seem quite--respectful toactually sit down in the poor old thing. I wonder, if it's moreindignant, or pleased, at being dragged out into the light of day for aparcel of young folks?"

"'Butchered to make a Roman Holiday'?" Shirley laughed. 

At that moment Patience appeared, rather breathless--but not half asmuch so as Miranda, who had been drawn into service, and now appearedalso--"You ain't half buttoned up behind, Patience!" she protested, "and your hair ribbon's not tied fit to be seen. --My sakes, to think ofanyone ever having named that young one _Patience_!"

"I'll overhaul her, Miranda, " Pauline comforted her. "Come here, Patience. "

"Please, I am to sit up in front with you, ain't I, Tom?" Patienceurged. "You and I always get on so beautifully together, you know. "

Tom relaxed a second time. "I don't see how I can refuse after that, "and the over-hauling process being completed, Patience climbed up tothe high front seat, where she beamed down on the rest with such a lookof joyful content that they could only smile back in response. 

From the doorway, came a warning voice. "Not too far, Tom, for Hilary;and remember, Patience, what you have promised me. "

"All right, Mrs. Shaw, " Tom assured her, and Patience nodded her headassentingly. 

From the parsonage, they went first to the doctor's. Josie was waitingfor them at the gate, and as they drew up before it, with horn blowing, and horses almost prancing--the proprietor of the hotel had given themhis best horses, in honor of the Folly--she stared from her brother tothe stage, with its white placard, with much the same look of wonder inher eyes as Pauline and Hilary had shown. 

"Miss Brice?" Tom was consulting his list again. 

"So that's what you've been concocting, Tom Brice!" Josie answered. 

Tom's face was as sober as his manner. "I am afraid we are a littlebehind scheduled time, being unavoidably delayed. "

"He means they had to wait for me to get ready, " Patience explained. "You didn't expect to see me along, did you, Josie?" And she smiledblandly. 

"I don't know what I did expect--certainly, not this. " Josie took herplace in the stage, not altogether sure whether the etiquette of theoccasion allowed of her recognizing its other inmates, or not. 

But Pauline nodded politely. "Good afternoon. Lovely day, isn't it?"she remarked, while Shirley asked, if she had ever made this tripbefore. 

"Not in this way, " Josie answered. "I've never ridden in the Follybefore. Have you, Paul?"

"Once, from the depot to the hotel, when I was a youngster, aboutImpatience's age. You remember, Hilary?"

"Of course I do. Uncle Jerry took me up in front. " Uncle Jerry wasthe name the owner of the stage went by in Winton. "He'd had a lot ofBoston people up, and had been showing them around. "

"This reminds me of the time father and I did our own New York in oneof those big 'Seeing New York' motors, " Shirley said. "I came homefeeling almost as if we'd been making a trip 'round some foreign city. "

"Tom can't make Winton seem foreign, " Josie declared. 

There were three more houses to stop at, lower down the street. Fromwindows and porches all along the route, laughing, curious faces staredwonderingly after them, while a small body-guard of children sprang upas if by magic to attend them on their way. This added greatly to thedelight of Patience, who smiled condescendingly down upon variousintimates, blissfully conscious of the envy she was exciting in theirbreasts. It was delightful to be one of the club for a time, at least. 

"And now, if you please, Ladies and Gentlemen, " Tom had closed the doorto upon the last of his party, "we will drive first to The VermontHouse, a hostelry well known throughout the surrounding country, andconducted by one of Vermont's best known and honored sons. "

"Hear! Hear!" Jack Ward cried. "I say, Tom, get that off again whereUncle Jerry can hear it, and you'll always be sure of his vote. "

They had reached the rambling old hotel, from the front porch of whichUncle Jerry himself, surveyed them genially. 

"Ladies and Gentlemen, " standing up, Tom turned to face the occupantsof the stage, his megaphone, carried merely as a badge of office, raised like a conductor's baton, "I wish to impress upon your mindsthat the building now before you--liberal rates for the season--ischiefly remarkable for never having sheltered the Father of HisCountry. "

"Now how do you know that?" Uncle Jerry protested. "Ain't that NorthChamber called the 'Washington room'?"

"Oh, but that's because the first proprietor's first wife occupied thatroom--and she was famous for her Washington pie, " Tom answered readily. "I assure you, sir, that any and all information which I shall have thehonor to impart to these strangers within our gates may be relied uponfor its accuracy. " He gave the driver the word, and the Follycontinued on its way, stopping presently before a littlestory-and-a-half cottage not far below the hotel and on a level withthe street. 

"This cottage, my young friends, " Tom said impressively, "shouldbe--and I trust is--enshrined deep within the hearts of all trueWintonites. Latterly, it has come to be called the Barker cottage, butits real title is 'The Flag House'; so called, because from that humbleporch, the first Stars and Stripes ever seen in Winton flung its colorsto the breeze. The original flag is still in possession of a linealdescendant of its first owner, who is, unfortunately, not an inhabitantof this town. " The boyish gravity of tone and manner was not allassumed now. 

No one spoke for a moment; eleven pairs of young eyes were looking outat the little weather-stained building with new interest. "I thought, "Bell Ward said at last, "that they called it the _flag_ place, becausesomeone of that name had used to live there. "

"So did I, " Hilary said. 

As the stage moved on, Shirley leaned back for another look. "I shallget father to come and sketch it, " she said. "Isn't it the quaintestold place?"

"We will now proceed, " Tom announced, "to the village green, where Ishall have the pleasure of relating to you certain anecdotes regardingthe part it played in the early life of this interesting old village. "

"Not too many, old man, " Tracy Dixon suggested hurriedly, "or it mayprove a one-sided pleasure. "

The green lay in the center of the town, --a wide, open space, withflagstaff in the middle; fine old elms bordered it on all four sides. The Vermont House faced it, on the north, and on the opposite sidestood the general store, belonging to Mr. Ward, with one or two smallerplaces of business. 

"The business section" of the town, Tom called it, and quite failed tonotice Tracy's lament that he had not brought his opera glasses withhim. "Really, you know, " Tracy explained to his companions, "I shouldhave liked awfully to see it. I'm mighty interested in businesssections. "

"Cut that out, " his brother Bob commanded, "the chap up in front isgetting ready to hold forth again. "

They were simple enough, those anecdotes, that "the chap up in front"told them; but in the telling, the boy's voice lost again all touch ofmock gravity. His listeners, sitting there in the June sunshine, looking out across the old green, flecked with the waving tree shadows, and bright with the buttercups nodding here and there, seemed to seethose men and boys drilling there in the far-off summer twilights; tohear the sharp words of command; the sound of fife and drum. And thefamiliar names mentioned more than once, well-known village names, names belonging to their own families in some instances, served todeepen the impression. 

"Why, " Edna Ray said slowly, "they're like the things one learns atschool; somehow, they make one realize that there truly was aRevolutionary War. Wherever did you pick up such a lot of townhistory, Tom?"

"That's telling, " Tom answered. 

Back up the broad, main street they went, past the pleasant villagehouses, with their bright, well-kept dooryards, under thewide-spreading trees beneath which so many generations of young folkshad come and gone; past the square, white parsonage, with its settingof green lawn; past the old stone church, and on out into the by-roadsof the village, catching now and then a glimpse of the great lakebeyond; and now and then, down some lane, a bit of the street they hadleft. They saw it all with eyes that for once had lost theindifference of long familiarity, and were swift to catch instead itsquiet, restful beauty, helped in this, perhaps, by Shirley's very realadmiration. 

The ride ended at Dr. Brice's gate, and here Tom dropped his mantle ofauthority, handing all further responsibility as to the entertainmentof the party over to his sister. 

Hilary was carried off to rest until supper time, and the restscattered about the garden, a veritable rose garden on that Juneafternoon, roses being Dr. Brice's pet hobby. 

"It must be lovely to _live_ in the country, " Shirley said, droppingdown on the grass before the doctor's favorite _La France_, and layingher face against the soft, pink petals of a half-blown bud. 

Edna eyed her curiously. She had rather resented the admittance ofthis city girl into their set. Shirley's skirt and blouse were ofwhite linen, there was a knot of red under the broad sailor collar, shewas hatless and the dark hair, --never kept too closely withinbounds--was tossed and blown; there was certainly nothing especiallycityfied in either appearance or manner. 

"That's the way I feel about the city, " Edna said slowly, "it must belovely to live _there_. "

Shirley laughed. "It is. I reckon just being alive anywhere such daysas these ought to content one. You haven't been over to the manorlately, have you? I mean since we came there. We're really gettingthe garden to look like a garden. Reclaiming the wilderness, fathercalls it. You'll come over now, won't you--the club, I mean?"

"Why, of course, " Edna answered, she thought she would like to go. "Isuppose you've been over to the forts?"

"Lots of times--father's ever so interested in them, and it's just apleasant row across, after supper. "

"I have fasted too long, I must eat again, " Tom remarked, coming acrossthe lawn. "Miss Dayre, may I have the honor?"

"Are you conductor, or merely club president now?" Shirley asked. 

"Oh, I've dropped into private life again. There comes Hilary--doesn'tlook much like an invalid, does she?"

"But she didn't look very well the first time I saw her, " Shirleyanswered. 

The long supper table was laid under the apple trees at the foot of thegarden, which in itself served to turn the occasion into a festiveaffair. 

"You've given us a bully send-off, Mr. President, " Bob declared. "It'sgoing to be sort of hard for the rest of us to keep up with you. "

"By the way, " Tom said, "Dr. Brice--some of you may have heard ofhim--would like to become an honorary member of this club. Anycontrary votes?"

"What's an honorary member?" Patience asked. Patience had beenremarkably good that afternoon--so good that Pauline began to feelworried, dreading the reaction. 

"One who has all the fun and none of the work, " Tracy explained, amerry twinkle in his brown eyes. 

Patience considered the matter. "I shouldn't mind the work; but motherwon't let me join regularly--mother takes notions now and then--but, please mayn't I be an honorary member?"

"Onery, you mean, young lady!" Tracy corrected. 

Patience flashed a pair of scornful eyes at him. "Father says punningis the very lowest form of--"

"Never mind, Patience, " Pauline said, "we haven't answered Tom yet. Ivote we extend our thanks to the doctor for being willing to join. "

"He isn't a bit more willing than I am, " Patience observed. There wasa general laugh among the real members, then Tom said, "If a Shaw votesfor a Brice, I don't very well see how a Brice can refuse to vote for aShaw. "

"The motion is carried, " Bob seconded him. 

"Subject to mother's consent, " Pauline added, a quite unnecessary bitof elder sisterly interference, Patience thought. 

"And now, even if it is telling on yourself, suppose you own up, oldman?" Jack Ward turned to Tom. "You see we don't in the least credityou with having produced all that village history from your own storesof knowledge. "

"I never said you need to, " Tom answered, "even the idea was notaltogether original with me. "

Patience suddenly leaned forward, her face all alight with interest. "I love my love with an A, " she said slowly, "because he's an--author. "

Tom whistled. "Well, of all the uncanny young ones!"

"It's very simple, " Patience said loftily. 

"So it is, Imp, " Tracy exclaimed; "I love him with an A, because he'san--A-M-E-R-I-C-A-N!"

"I took him to the sign of The Apple Tree, " Bell took up the thread. 

"And fed him (mentally) on subjects--antedeluvian, or almost so, "Hilary added. 

"What _are_ you talking about?" Edna asked impatiently. 

"Mr. Allen, " Pauline told her. 

"I saw him and Tom walking down the back lane the other night, "Patience explained. Patience felt that she had won her right to belongto the club now--they'd see she wasn't just a silly little girl. "Father says he--I don't mean Tom--"

"We didn't suppose you did, " Tracy laughed. 

"Knows more history than any other man in the state; especially, thehistory of the state. "

"Mr. Allen!" Shirley exclaimed. "T. C. Allen! Why, father and I readone of his books just the other week. It's mighty interesting. Doeshe live in Winton?"

"He surely does, " Bob grinned, "and every little while he comes up toschool and puts us through our paces. It's his boast that he was born, bred and educated right in Vermont. He isn't a bad old buck--if hewouldn't pester a fellow with too many questions. "

"He lives out beyond us, " Hilary told Shirley. "There's a great appletree right in front of the gate. He has an old house-keeper to lookafter him. I wish you could see his books--he's literally surroundedwith them. "

"Not storybooks, " Patience added. "He says, they're books full ofstories, if one's a mind to look for them. "

"Please, " Edna protested, "let's change the subject. Are we to havebadges, or not?"

"Pins, " Bell suggested. 

"Pins would have to be made to order, " Pauline objected, "and would bemore or less expensive. "

"And it's an unwritten by-law of this club, that we shall go to nounnecessary expense, " Tom insisted. 

"But--" Bell began. 

"Oh, I know what you're thinking, " Tom broke in, "but Uncle Jerrydidn't charge for the stage--he said he was only too glad to have thepoor thing used--'twas a dull life for her, shut up in thecarriage-house year in and year out. "

"The Folly isn't a she, " Patience protested. 

"Folly generally is feminine, " Tracy said, "and so--"

"And he let us have the horses, too--for our initial outing, " Tom wenton. "Said the stage wouldn't be of much use without them. "

"Three cheers for Uncle Jerry!" Bob Dixon cried. "Let's make him anhonorary member. "

"But the badges, " Edna said. "I never saw such people for going off attangents. "

"Ribbon would be pretty, " Shirley suggested, "with the name of the clubin gilt letters. I can letter pretty well. "

Her suggestion was received with general acclamation, and after muchdiscussion, as to color, dark blue was decided on. 

"Blue goes rather well with red, " Tom said, "and as two of our membershave red hair, " his glance went from Patience to Pauline. 

"I move we adjourn, the president's getting personal, " Pauline pushedback her chair. 

"Who's turn is it to be next?" Jack asked. 

They drew lots with blades of grass; it fell to Hilary. "I warn you, "she said, "that I can't come up to Tom. "

Then the first meeting of the new club broke up, the members goingtheir various ways. Shirley went as far as the parsonage, where shewas to wait for her father. 

"I've had a beautiful time, " she said warmly. "And I've thought whatto do when my turn comes. Only, I think you'll have to let father inas an honorary, I'll need him to help me out. "

"We'll be only too glad, " Pauline said heartily. "This club's growingfast, isn't it? Have you decided, Hilary?"

Hilary shook her head, "N-not exactly; I've sort of an idea. "

CHAPTER VII

HILARY'S TURN

Pauline and Hilary were up in their own room, the "new room, " as it hadcome to be called, deep in the discussion of certain samples that hadcome in that morning's mail. 

Uncle Paul's second check was due before long now, and then there wereto be new summer dresses, or rather the goods for them, one apiece allaround. 

"Because, of course, " Pauline said, turning the pretty scraps over, "Mother Shaw's got to have one, too. We'll have to get it--on theside--or she'll declare she doesn't need it, and she does. "

"Just the goods won't come to so very much, " Hilary said. 

"No, indeed, and mother and I can make them. "

"We certainly got a lot out of that other check, or rather, you andmother did, " Hilary went on. "And it isn't all gone?"

"Pretty nearly, except the little we decided to lay by each month. Butwe did stretch it out in a good many directions. I don't suppose anyof the other twenty-fives will seem quite so big. "

"But there won't be such big things to get with them, " Hilary said, "except these muslins. "

"It's unspeakably delightful to have money for the little unnecessarythings, isn't it?" Pauline rejoiced. 

That first check had really gone a long ways. After buying the mattingand paper, there had been quite a fair sum left; enough to pay for twomagazine subscriptions, one a review that Mr. Shaw had long wanted totake, another, one of the best of the current monthlies; and to lay inquite a store of new ribbons and pretty turnovers, and several yards ofsilkaline to make cushion covers for the side porch, for Pauline, taking hint from Hilary's out-door parlor at the farm, had been quickto make the most of their own deep, vine-shaded side porch at theparsonage. 

The front piazza belonged in a measure to the general public, therewere too many people coming and going to make it private enough for afamily gathering place. But the side porch was different, broad andsquare, only two or three steps from the ground; it was their favoritegathering place all through the long, hot summers. 

With a strip of carpet for the floor, a small table resurrected fromthe garret, a bench and three wicker rockers, freshly painted green, and Hilary's hammock, rich in pillows, Pauline felt that their porchwas one to be proud of. To Patience had been entrusted the care ofkeeping the old blue and white Canton bowl filled with fresh flowers, and there were generally books and papers on the table. And they mighthave done it all before, Pauline thought now, if they had stopped tothink. 

"Have you decided?" Hilary asked her, glancing at the sober face bentover the samples. 

"I believe I'd forgotten all about them; I think I'll choose this--"Pauline held up a sample of blue and white striped dimity. 

"That _is_ pretty. "

"You can have it, if you like. "

"Oh, no, I'll have the pink. "

"And the lavender dot, for Mother Shaw?"

"Yes, " Hilary agreed. 

"Patience had better have straight white, it'll be in the wash sooften. "

"Why not let her choose for herself, Paul?" Hilary suggested. 

"Hilary! Oh, Hilary Shaw!" Patience called excitedly, at that momentfrom downstairs. 

"Up here!" Hilary called back, and Patience came hurrying up, stumblingmore than once in her eagerness. The next moment, she pushed wide thedoor of the "new room. " "See what's come! It's addressed to you, Hilary--it came by express--Jed brought it up from the depot!" Jed wasthe village expressman. 

She deposited her burden on the table beside Hilary. It was agood-sized, square box, and with all that delightful air of mysteryabout it that such packages usually have. 

"What do you suppose it is, Paul?" Hilary cried. "Why, I've never hadanything come unexpectedly, like this, before. "

"A whole lot of things are happening to us that never've happenedbefore, " Patience said. "See, it's from Uncle Paul!" she pointed tothe address at the upper left-hand corner of the package. "Oh, Hilary, let me open it, please, I'll go get the tack hammer. "

"Tell mother to come, " Hilary said. 

"Maybe it's books, Paul!" she added, as Patience scampered off. 

Pauline lifted the box. "It doesn't seem quite heavy enough for books. "

"But what else could it be?"

Pauline laughed. "It isn't another Bedelia, at all events. It couldbe almost anything. Hilary, I believe Uncle Paul is really glad Iwrote to him. "

"Well, I'm not exactly sorry, " Hilary declared. 

"Mother can't come yet, " Patience explained, reappearing. "She saysnot to wait. It's that tiresome Mrs. Dane; she just seems to know whenwe don't want her, and then to come--only, I suppose if she waited 'tilwe did want to see her, she'd never get here. "

"Mother didn't say that. Impatience, and you'd better not let her hearyou saying it, " Pauline warned. 

But Patience was busy with the tack hammer. "You can take the insidecovers off, " she said to Hilary. 

"Thanks, awfully, " Hilary murmured. 

"It'll be my turn next, won't it?" Patience dropped the tack hammer, and wrenched off the cover of the box--"Go ahead, Hilary! Oh, how slowyou are!"

For Hilary was going about her share of the unpacking in the mostleisurely way. "I want to guess first, " she said. "Such a lot ofwrappings! It must be something breakable. "

"A picture, maybe, " Pauline suggested. Patience dropped cross-leggedon the floor. "Then I don't think Uncle Paul's such a very sensiblesort of person, " she said. 

"No, not pictures!" Hilary lifted something from within the box, "butsomething to get pictures with. See, Paul!"

"A camera! Oh, Hilary!"

"And not a little tiny one. " Patience leaned over to examine the box. "It's a three and a quarter by four and a quarter. We can have funnow, can't we?" Patience believed firmly in the cooperative principle. 

"Tom'll show you how to use it, " Pauline said. "He fixed up a darkroom last fall, you know, for himself. "

"And here are all the doings. " Patience came to investigate thefurther contents of the express package. "Films and those funny littlepans for developing in, and all. "

Inside the camera was a message to the effect that Mr. Shaw hoped hisniece would be pleased with his present and that it would add to thesummer's pleasures, "He's getting real uncley, isn't he?" Patience observed. Then shecaught sight of the samples Pauline had let fall. "Oh, how pretty!Are they for dresses for us?"

"They'd make pretty scant ones, I'd say, " Pauline, answered. 

"Silly!" Patience spread the bright scraps out on her blue checkedgingham apron. "I just bet you've been choosing! Why didn't you callme?"

"To help us choose?" Pauline asked, with a laugh. 

But at the present moment, her small sister was quite impervious tosarcasm. "I think I'll have this, " she pointed to a white ground, closely sprinkled with vivid green dots. 

"Carrots and greens!" Pauline declared, glancing at her sister's redcurls. "You'd look like an animated boiled dinner! If you please, whosaid anything about your choosing?"

"You look ever so nice in all white, Patty, " Hilary said hastily. 

"Have you and Paul chosen all white?"

"N-no. "

"Then I shan't!" She looked up quickly, her blue eyes very persuasive. "I don't very often have a brand new, just-out-of-the-store dress, doI?"

Pauline laughed. "Only don't let it be the green then. Good, here'smother, at last!"

"Mummy, is blue or green better?" Patience demanded. 

Mrs. Shaw examined and duly admired the camera, and decided in favor ofa blue dot; then she said, "Mrs. Boyd is down-stairs, Hilary. "

"How nice!" Hilary jumped up. "I want to see her most particularly. "

"Bless me, child!" Mrs. Boyd exclaimed, as Hilary came into thesitting-room, "how you are getting on! Why, you don't look like thesame girl of three weeks back. "

Hilary sat down beside her on the sofa. "I've got a most tremendousfavor to ask, Mrs. Boyd. "

"I'm glad to hear that! I hear you young folks are having fine timeslately. Shirley was telling me about the club the other night. "

"It's about the club--and it's in two parts; first, won't you and Mr. Boyd be honorary members?--That means you can come to the good times ifyou like, you know. --And the other is--you see, it's my turn next--"And when Pauline came down, she found the two deep in consultation. 

The next afternoon, Patience carried out her long-intended plan ofcalling at the manor. Mrs. Shaw was from home for the day, Pauline andHilary were out in the trap with Tom and Josie and the camera. "Sothere's really no one to ask permission of, Towser, " Patienceexplained, as they started off down the back lane. "Father's got thestudy door closed, of course that means he mustn't be disturbed foranything unless it's absolutely necessary. "

Towser wagged comprehendingly. He was quite ready for a ramble thisbright afternoon, especially a ramble 'cross lots. 

Shirley and her father were not at home, neither--which was even moredisappointing--were any of the dogs; so, after a short chat with BetsyTodd, considerably curtailed by that body's too frankly expressedwonder that Patience should've been allowed to come unattended by anyof her elders, she and Towser wandered home again. 

In the lane, they met Sextoness Jane, sitting on the roadside, under ashady tree. She and Patience exchanged views on parish matters, discussed the new club, and had an all-round good gossip. 

"My sakes!" Jane said, her faded eyes bright with interest, "it mustseem like Christmas all the time up to your house. " She looked pastPatience to the old church beyond, around which her life had centereditself for so many years. "There weren't ever such doings at theparsonage--nor anywhere else, what I knowed of--when I was a girl. Why, that Bedelia horse! Seems like she give an air to the wholeplace--so pretty and high-stepping--it's most's good's a circus--notthat I've ever been to a circus, but I've hear tell on them--just tosee her go prancing by. "

"I think, " Patience said that evening, as they were all sitting on theporch in the twilight, "I think that Jane would like awfully to belongto our club. "

"Have you started a club, too?" Pauline teased. 

Patience tossed her red head. "'The S. W. F. Club, ' I mean; and youknow it, Paul Shaw. When I get to be fifteen, I shan't act half sosilly as some folks. "

"What ever put that idea in your head?" Hilary asked. It was one ofHilary's chief missions in life to act as intermediary between heryounger and older sister. 

"Oh, I just gathered it, from what she said. Towser and I met her thisafternoon, on our way home from the manor. "

"From where, Patience?" her mother asked quickly, with that faculty fortaking hold of the wrong end of a remark, that Patience had hadoccasion to deplore more than once. 

And in the diversion this caused, Sextoness Jane was forgotten. 

"Here comes Mr. Boyd, Hilary!" Pauline called from the foot of thestairs. 

Hilary finished tying the knot of cherry ribbon at her throat, thensnatching up her big sun-hat from the bed, she ran down-stairs. 

Before the side door, stood the big wagon, in which Mr. Boyd had drivenover from the farm, its bottom well filled with fresh straw. ForHilary's outing was to be a cherry picnic at The Maples, with supperunder the trees, and a drive home later by moonlight. 

Shirley had brought over the badges a day or two before; the blueribbon, with its gilt lettering, gave an added touch to the girls'white dresses and cherry ribbons. 

Mr. Dayre had been duly made an honorary member. He and Shirley wereto meet the rest of the party at the farm. As for Patience H. M. , asTom called her, she had been walking very softly the past few days. There had been no long rambles without permission, no making calls onher own account. There _had_ been a private interview between herselfand Mr. Boyd, whom she had met, not altogether by chance, down streetthe day before. 

The result was that, at the present moment, Patience--white-frocked, blue-badged, cherry-ribboned--was sitting demurely in one corner of thebig wagon. 

Mr. Boyd chuckled as he glanced down at her; a body'd have to get uppretty early in the morning to get ahead of that youngster. Though notin white, nor wearing cherry ribbons, Mr. Boyd sported his badge withmuch complacency. Winton was looking up, decidedly. 'Twasn't such aslow old place, after all. 

"All ready?" he asked, as Pauline slipped a couple of big pasteboardboxes under the wagon seat, and threw in some shawls for the cominghome. 

"All ready. Good-by, Mother Shaw. Remember, you and father have gotto come with us one of these days. I guess if Mr. Boyd can take aholiday you can. "

"Good-by, " Hilary called, and Patience waved joyously. "This'll maketwo times, " she comforted herself, "and two times ought to be enough toestablish what father calls 'a precedent. '"

They stopped at the four other houses in turn; then Mr. Boyd touchedhis horses up lightly, rattling them along at a good rate out on to theroad leading to the lake and so to The Maples. 

There was plenty of fun and laughter by the way. They had gonepicnicking together so many summers, this same crowd, had had so manygood times together. "And yet it seems different, this year, doesn'tit?" Bell said. "We really aren't doing new things--exactly, stillthey seem so. "

Tracy touched his badge. "These are the 'Blue Ribbon Brand, ' bestgoods in the market. "

"Come to think of it, there aren't so very many new things one can do, "Tom remarked. 

"Not in Winton, at any rate, " Bob added. 

"If anyone dares say anything derogatory to Winton, on this, or anyother, outing of the 'S. W. F. Club, ' he, or she, will get intotrouble, " Josie said sternly. 

Mrs. Boyd was waiting for them on the steps, Shirley close by, while aglimpse of a white umbrella seen through the trees told that Mr. Dayrewas not far off. 

"It's the best cherry season in years, " Mrs. Boyd declared, as theyoung folks came laughing and crowding about her. She was a primefavorite with them all. "My, how nice you look! Those badges aremighty pretty. "

"Where's yours?" Pauline demanded. 

"It's in my top drawer, dear. Looks like I'm too old to go wearingsuch things, though 'twas ever so good in you to send me one. "

"Hilary, " Pauline turned to her sister, "I'm sure Mrs. Boyd'll let yougo to her top drawer. Not a stroke of business does this club do, until this particular member has her badge on. "

"Now, " Tom asked, when that little matter had been attended to, "what'sthe order of the day?"

"I hope you've worn old dresses?" Mrs. Boyd said. 

"I haven't, ma'am, " Tracy announced. 

"Order!" Bob called. 

"Eat all you like--so long's you don't get sick--and each pick a nicebasket to take home, " Mrs. Boyd explained. There were no cherriesanywhere else quite so big and fine, as those at The Maples. 

"You to command, we to obey!" Tracy declared. 

"Boys to pick, girls to pick up, " Tom ordered, as they scattered aboutamong the big, bountifully laden trees. 

 "For cherry time, Is merry time, "

Shirley improvised, catching the cluster of great red and whitecherries Jack tossed down to her. 

Even more than the rest of the young folks, Shirley was getting thegood of this happy, out-door summer, with its quiet pleasures andrestful sense of home life. She had never known anything before likeit. It was very different, certainly, from the studio life in NewYork, different from the sketching rambles she had taken other summerswith her father. They were delightful, too, and it was pleasant tothink of going back to them again--some day; but just at present, itwas good to be a girl among other girls, interested in all the simple, homely things each day brought up. 

And her father was content, too, else how could she have been so? Itwas doing him no end of good. Painting a little, sketching a little, reading and idling a good deal, and through it all, immensely amused atthe enthusiasm with which his daughter threw herself into the villagelife. "I shall begin to think soon, that you were born and raised inWinton, " he had said to her that very morning, as she came in freshfrom a conference with Betsy Todd. Betsy might be spending her summerin a rather out-of-the-way spot, and her rheumatism might prevent herfrom getting into town--as she expressed it--but very little went onthat Betsy did not hear of, and she was not one to keep her news toherself. 

"So shall I, " Shirley had laughed back. She wondered now, if Paulineor Hilary would enjoy a studio winter, as much as she was reveling inher Winton summer? She decided that probably they would. 

Cherry time _was_ merry time that afternoon. Of course. Bob fell outof one of the trees, but Bob was so used to tumbling, and the otherswere so used to having him tumble, that no one paid much attention toit; and equally, of course, Patience tore her dress and had to be takenin hand by Mrs. Boyd. 

"Every rose must have its thorns, you know, kid, " Tracy told her, asshe was borne away for this enforced retirement. "We'll leave a fewcherries, 'gainst you get back. "

Patience elevated her small freckled nose, she was an adept at it. "Ireckon they will be mighty few--if you have anything to do with it. "

"You're having a fine time, aren't you, Senior?" Shirley asked, as Mr. Dayre came scrambling down from his tree; he had been routed from hissketching and pressed into service by his indefatigable daughter. 

"Scrumptious! Shirley, you've got a fine color--only it's laid on inspots. "

"You're spattery, too, " she retorted. "I must go help lay out thesupper now. "

"Will anyone want supper, after so many cherries?" Mr. Dayre asked. 

"Will they?" Pauline laughed. "Well, you just wait and see. "

Some of the boys brought the table from the house, stretching it out toits uttermost length. The girls laid the cloth, Mrs. Boyd provided, and unpacked the boxes stacked on the porch. From the kitchen came anappetizing odor of hot coffee. Hilary and Bell went off after flowersfor the center of the table. 

"We'll put one at each place, suggestive of the person--like a placecard, " Hilary proposed. 

"Here's a daisy for Mrs. Boyd, " Bell laughed. 

"Let's give that to Mr. Boyd and cut her one of these old-fashionedspice pinks, " Hilary said. 

"Better put a bit of pepper-grass for the Imp, " Tracy suggested, as thegirls went from place to place up and down the long table. 

"Paul's to have a pansy, " Hilary insisted. She remembered how, if ithadn't been for Pauline's "thought" that wet May afternoon, everythingwould still be as dull and dreary as it was then. 

At her own place she found a spray of belated wild roses, Tom had laidthere, the pink of their petals not more delicate than the soft colorcoming and going in the girl's face. 

"We've brought for-get-me-not for you, Shirley, " Bell said, "so thatyou won't forget us when you get back to the city. "

"As if I were likely to!" Shirley exclaimed. 

"Sound the call to supper, sonny!" Tom told Bob, and Bob, raising thefarm dinner-horn, sounded it with a will, making the girls cover theirears with their hands and bringing the boys up with a rush. 

"It's a beautiful picnic, isn't it?" Patience said, reappearing in timeto slip into place with the rest. 

"And after supper, I will read you the club song, " Tracy announced. 

"Are we to have a club song?" Edna asked. 

"We are. "

"Read it now, son--while we eat, " Tom suggested. 

Tracy rose promptly--"Mind you save me a few scraps then. First, itisn't original--"

"All the better, " Jack commented. 

"Hush up, and listen--

 "'A cheerful world?--It surely is. And if you understand your biz You'll taboo the worry worm, And cultivate the happy germ. 

 "'It's a habit to be happy, Just as much as to be scrappy. So put the frown away awhile, And try a little sunny smile. '"

There was a generous round of applause. Tracy tossed the scrap ofpaper across the table to Bell. "Put it to music, before the nextround-up, if you please. "

Bell nodded. "I'll do my best. "

"We've got a club song and a club badge, and we ought to have a clubmotto, " Josie said. 

"It's right to your hand, in your song, " her brother answered. "'It'sa habit to be happy. '"

"Good!" Pauline seconded him, and the motto was at once adopted. 

CHAPTER VIII

SNAP-SHOTS

Bell Ward set the new song to music, a light, catchy tune, easy to pickup. It took immediately, the boys whistled it, as they came and went, and the girls hummed it. Patience, with cheerful impartiality, didboth, in season and out of season. 

It certainly looked as though it were getting to be a habit to be happyamong a good many persons in Winton that summer. The spirit of the newclub seemed in the very atmosphere. 

A rivalry, keen but generous, sprang up between the club members in thematter of discovering new ways of "Seeing Winton, " or, failing that, ofgiving a new touch to the old familiar ones. 

There were many informal and unexpected outings, besides the club'sregular ones, sometimes amongst all the members, often among two orthree of them. 

Frequently, Shirley drove over in the surrey, and she and Pauline andHilary, with sometimes one of the other girls, would go for longrambling drives along the quiet country roads, or out beside the lake. Shirley generally brought her sketch-book and there were pleasantstoppings here and there. 

And there were few days on which Bedelia and the trap were not out, Bedelia enjoying the brisk trots about the country quite as much as hercompanions. 

Hilary soon earned the title of "the kodak fiend, " Josie declaring shetook pictures in her sleep, and that "Have me; have my camera, " wasHilary's present motto. Certainly, the camera was in evidence at allthe outings, and so far, Hilary had fewer failures to her account thanmost beginners. Her "picture diary" she called the big scrap-book inwhich was mounted her record of the summer's doings. 

Those doings were proving both numerous and delightful. Mr. Shaw, asan honorary member, had invited the club to a fishing party, which hadbeen an immense success. The doctor had followed it by a moonlightdrive along the lake and across on the old sail ferry to the New Yorkside, keeping strictly within that ten-mile-from-home limit, thoughcovering considerably more than ten miles in the coming and going. 

There had been picnics of every description, to all the points ofinterest and charm in and about the village; an old-time supper at theWards', at which the club members had appeared in old-fashionedcostumes; a strawberry supper on the church lawn, to which all thechurch were invited, and which went off rather better than some of thesociables had in times past. 

As the Winton _Weekly News_ declared proudly, it was the gayest summerthe village had known in years. Mr. Paul Shaw's theory aboutdeveloping home resources was proving a sound one in this instance atleast. 

Hilary had long since forgotten that she had ever been an invalid, hadindeed, sometimes, to be reminded of that fact. She had quitediscarded the little "company" fiction, except now and then, by way ofa joke. "Who'd want to be company?" she protested. "I'd rather be oneof the family these days. "

"That's all very well, " Patience retorted, "when you're getting all thegood of being both. You've got the company room. " Patience had notfound her summer quite as cloudless as some of her elders; being anhonorary member had not meant _all_ of the fun in her case. She wishedvery much that it were possible to grow up in a single night, thuswiping out forever that drawback of being "a little girl. "

Still, on the whole, she managed to get a fair share of the fun goingon and quite agreed with the editor of the _Weekly News_, going so faras to tell him so when she met him down street. She had a very kindlyfeeling in her heart for the pleasant spoken little editor; had he notgiven her her full honors every time she had had the joy of being"among those present"?

There had been three of those checks from Uncle Paul; it was wonderfulhow far each had been made to go. It was possible nowadays to send fora new book, when the reviews were more than especially tempting. Therehad also been a tea-table added to the other attractions of the sideporch, not an expensive affair, but the little Japanese cups andsaucers were both pretty and delicate, as was the rest of the service;while Miranda's cream cookies and sponge cakes were, as Shirleydeclared, good enough to be framed. Even the minister appeared now andthen of an afternoon, during tea hour, and the young people, gatheredon the porch, began to find him a very pleasant addition to theirlittle company, he and they getting acquainted, as they had nevergotten acquainted before. 

Sextoness Jane came every week now to help with the ironing, whichmeant greater freedom in the matter of wash dresses; and also, toSextoness Jane herself, the certainty of a day's outing every week. ToSextoness Jane, those Tuesdays at the parsonage were little short of adissipation. Miranda, unbending in the face of such sincere and humbleadmiration, was truly gracious. The glimpses the little bent, oldsextoness got of the young folks, the sense of life going on about her, were as good as a play, to quote her own simile, confided of an eveningto Tobias, her great black cat, the only other inmate of the oldcottage. 

"I reckon Uncle Paul would be rather surprised, " Pauline said oneevening, "if he could know all the queer sorts of ways in which we usehis money. But the little easings-up do count for so much. "

"Indeed they do, " Hilary agreed warmly, "though it hasn't all gone foreasings-ups, as you call them, either. " She had sat down right in themiddle of getting ready for bed, to revel in her ribbon box; she soloved pretty ribbons!

The committee on finances, as Pauline called her mother, Hilary, andherself, held frequent meetings. "And there's always one thing, " thegirl would declare proudly, "the treasury is never entirely empty. "

She kept faithful account of all money received and spent; each month acertain amount was laid away for the "rainy day"--which meant, really, the time when the checks should cease to come---"for, you know, UnclePaul only promised them for the _summer_, " Pauline reminded the others, and herself, rather frequently. Nor was all of the remainder everquite used up before the coming of the next check. 

"You're quite a business woman, my dear, " Mr. Shaw said once, smilingover the carefully recorded entries in the little account-book sheshowed him. "We must have named you rightly. "

She wrote regularly to her uncle; her letters unconsciously growingmore friendly and informal from week to week. They were bright, vividletters, more so than Pauline had any idea of. Through them, Mr. PaulShaw felt himself becoming very well acquainted with these youngrelatives whom he had never seen, and in whom, as the weeks went by, hefelt himself growing more and more interested. 

Without realizing it, he got into the habit of looking forward to thatweekly letter; the girl wrote a nice clear hand, there didn't seem tobe any nonsense about her, and she had a way of going right to herpoint that was most satisfactory. It seemed sometimes as if he couldsee the old white parsonage and ivy-covered church; the broadtree-shaded lawns; the outdoor parlor, with the young people gatheredabout the tea-table; Bedelia, picking her way along the quiet countryroads; the great lake in all its moods; the manor house. 

Sometimes Pauline would enclose one or two of Hilary's snap-shots ofplaces, or persons. At one of these, taken the day of the fishingpicnic, and under which Hilary had written "The best catch of theseason, " Mr. Paul Shaw looked long and intently. Somehow he had neverpictured Phil to himself as middle-aged. If anyone had told him, whenthe lad was a boy, that the time would come when they would be likestrangers to each other--Mr. Paul Shaw slipped the snap-shot and letterback into their envelope. 

It was that afternoon that he spent considerable time over a cataloguedevoted entirely to sporting goods; and it was a fortnight later thatPatience came flying down the garden path to where Pauline and Hilarywere leaning over the fence, paying a morning call to Bedelia, sunningherself in the back pasture. 

"You'll never guess what's come _this_ time! And Jed says he reckonshe can haul it out this afternoon if you're set on it! And it'saddressed to the 'Misses Shaw, ' so that means it's _mine, too_!"Patience dropped on the grass, quite out of breath. 

The "it" proved to be a row-boat with a double set of oar-locks, aperfect boat for the lake, strong and safe, but trig and neat ofoutline. 

Hilary named it the "Surprise" at first sight, and Tom was sent for atonce to paint the name in red letters to look well against the whitebackground and to match the boat's red trimmings. 

Its launching was an event. Some of the young people had boats over atthe lake, rather weather-beaten, tubby affairs, Bell declared them, after the coming of the "Surprise. " A general overhauling took placeimmediately, the girls adopted simple boating dresses--red and white, which were their boating colors. A new zest was given to the waterpicnics, Bedelia learning to know the lake road very well. 

August had come before they fairly realized that their summer was morethan well under way. In little more than a month the long vacationwould be over. Tom and Josie were to go to Boston to school; Bell toVergennes. 

"There'll never be another summer quite like it!" Hilary said onemorning. "I can't bear to think of its being over. "

"It isn't--yet, " Pauline answered. 

"Tom's coming, " Patience heralded from the gate, and Hilary ran indoorsfor hat and camera. 

"Where are you off to this morning?" Pauline asked, as her sister cameout again. 

"Out by the Cross-roads' Meeting-House, " Tom answered. "Hilary hasdesigns on it, I believe. "

"You'd better come, too, Paul, " Hilary urged. "It's a glorious morningfor a walk. "

"I'm going to help mother cut out; perhaps I'll come to meet you withBedelia 'long towards noon. You wait at Meeting-House Hill. "

"_I'm_ not going to be busy this morning, " Patience insinuated. 

"Oh, yes you are, young lady, " Pauline told her. "Mother said you wereto weed the aster bed. "

Patience looked longingly after the two starting gayly off down thepath, their cameras swung over their shoulders, then she lookeddisgustedly at the aster bed. It was quite the biggest of the smallerbeds. --She didn't see what people wanted to plant so many asters for;she had never cared much for asters, she felt she should care even lessabout them in the future. Tiresome, stiff affairs!

By the time Tom and Hilary reached the old Cross-Roads' Meeting-Housethat morning, after a long roundabout ramble, Hilary, for one, wasquite willing to sit down and wait for Pauline and the trap, and eatthe great, juicy blackberries Tom gathered for her from the bushesalong the road. 

It had rained during the night and the air was crisp and fresh, with ahint of the coming fall. "Summer's surely on the down grade, " Tomsaid, throwing himself on the bank beside Hilary. 

"So Paul and I were lamenting this morning. I don't suppose it mattersas much to you folks who are going off to school. "

"Still it means another summer over, " Tom said soberly. He was rathersorry that it was so--there could never be another summer quite sojolly and carefree. "And the breaking up of the club, I suppose?"

"I don't see why we need call it a break--just a discontinuance, for atime. "

"And why that, even? There'll be a lot of you left, to keep it going. "

"Y-yes, but with three, or perhaps more, out, I reckon we'll have topostpone the next installment until another summer. "

Tom went off then for more berries, and Hilary sat leaning back againstthe trunk of the big tree crowning the top of Meeting-House Hill, hereyes rather thoughtful. From where she sat, she had a full view ofboth roads for some distance and, just beyond, the little hamletscattered about the old meeting-house. 

Before the gate of one of the houses stood a familiar gig, andpresently, as she sat watching, Dr. Brice came down the narrowflower-bordered path, followed by a woman. At the gate both stopped;the woman was saying something, her anxious, drawn face seeming out ofkeeping with the cheery freshness of the morning and the flowersnodding their bright heads about her. 

As the doctor stood listening, his old shabby medicine case in hishand, with face bent to the troubled one raised to his, and bearingindicating grave sympathy and understanding, Hilary reached for hercamera. 

"Upon my word! Isn't the poor pater exempt?" Tom laughed, coming back. 

"I want it for the book Josie and I are making for you to take awaywith you, 'Winton Snap-shots. ' We'll call it 'The Country Doctor. '"

Tom looked at the gig, moving slowly off down the road now. He hatedto say so, but he wished Hilary would not put that particular snap-shotin. He had a foreboding that it was going to make him a bituncomfortable--later--when the time for decision came; though, as forthat, he had already decided--beyond thought of change. He wished thatthe pater hadn't set his heart on his coming back here to practice--andhe wished, too, that Hilary hadn't taken that photo. 

"Paul's late, " he said presently. 

"I'm afraid she isn't coming. "

"It's past twelve, " Tom glanced at the sun. "Maybe we'd better walk ona bit. "

But they had walked a considerable bit, all the way to the parsonage, in fact, before they saw anything of Pauline. There, she met them atthe gate. "Have you seen any trace of Patience--and Bedelia?" sheasked eagerly. 

"Patience and Bedelia?" Hilary repeated wonderingly. 

"They're both missing, and it's pretty safe guessing they're together. "

"But Patience would never dare--"

"Wouldn't she!" Pauline exclaimed. "Jim brought Bedelia 'round abouteleven and when I came out a few moments later, she was gone and so wasPatience. Jim's out looking for them. We traced them as far as theLake road. "

"I'll go hunt, too, " Tom offered. "Don't you worry, Paul; she'll turnup all right--couldn't down the Imp, if you tried. "

"But she's never driven Bedelia alone; and Bedelia's not Fanny. "

However, half an hour later, Patience drove calmly into the yard, Towser on the seat beside her, and if there was something very likeanxiety in her glance, there was distinct triumph in the way shecarried her small, bare head. 

"We've had a beautiful drive!" she announced, smiling pleasantly fromher high seat, at the worried, indignant group on the porch. "I tellyou, there isn't any need to 'hi-yi' this horse!"

"My sakes!" Miranda declared. "Did you ever hear the beat of that!"

"Get down, Patience!" Mrs. Shaw said, and Patience climbed obedientlydown. She bore the prompt banishment to her own room which followed, with seeming indifference. Certainly, it was not unexpected; but whenHilary brought her dinner up to her presently, she found her sitting onthe floor, her head on the bed. It was only a few days now toShirley's turn and it was going to be such a nice turn. Patience feltthat for once Patience Shaw had certainly acted most unwisely. 

"Patty, how could you!" Hilary put the tray on the table and sittingdown on the bed, took the tumbled head on her knee. "We've been soworried! You see, Bedelia isn't like Fanny!"

"That's why I wanted to get a chance to drive her by myself for once!She went beautifully! out on the Lake road I just let her loose!" Forthe moment, pride in her recent performance routed all contrition fromPatience's voice--"I tell you, folks I passed just stared!"

"Patience, how--"

"I wasn't scared the least bit; and, of course, Bedelia knew it. UncleJerry says they always know when you're scared, and if Mr. Allen is themost up in history of any man in Vermont, Uncle Jerry is the most inhorses. "

Hilary felt that the conversation was hardly proceeding upon the linesher mother would have approved of, especially under presentcircumstances. "That has nothing to do with it, you know, Patience, "she said, striving to be properly severe. 

"I think it has--everything. I think it's nice not being scared ofthings. You're sort of timid 'bout things, aren't you, Hilary?"

Hilary made a movement to rise. 

"Oh, please, " Patience begged. "It's going to be such a dreadful longafternoon--all alone. "

"But I can't stay, mother would not want--"

"Just for a minute. I--I want to tell you something. I--coming back, I met Jane, and I gave her a lift home--and she did love it so--shesays she's never ridden before behind a horse that really went as if itenjoyed it as much as she did. That was some good out of being bad, wasn't it? And--I told you--ever'n' ever so long ago, that I wasmighty sure Jane'd just be tickled to death to belong to our club. Ithink you might ask her--I don't see why she shouldn't like SeeingWinton, same's we do--she doesn't ever have fun--and she'll be deadpretty soon. She's getting along, Jane is--it'd make me mad's anythingto have to die 'fore I'd had any fun to speak of. Jane's really verygood company--when you draw her out--she just needs drawing out--Janedoes. Seems to me, she remembers every funeral and wedding andeverything--that's ever taken place in Winton. " Patience stopped, sheer out of breath, but there was an oddly serious look on her littleeager face. 

Hilary stroked back the tangled red curls. "Maybe you're right, Patty;maybe we have been selfish with our good times. I'll have to go now, dear. You--I may tell mother--that you are sorry--truly, Patty?"

Patience nodded. "But I reckon, it's a good deal on account ofShirley's turn, " she explained. 

Hilary bit her lip. 

"You don't suppose you could fix that up with mother? You're prettygood at fixing things up with mother, Hilary. "

"Since how long?" Hilary laughed, but when she had closed the door, sheopened it again to stick her head in. "I'll try, Patty, at any rate, "she promised. 

She went down-stairs rather thoughtful. Mrs. Shaw was busy in thestudy and Pauline had gone out on an errand. Hilary went up-stairsagain, going to sit by one of the side windows in the "new room. "

Over at the church, Sextoness Jane was making ready for the regularweekly prayer meeting; never a service was held in the church that shedid not set all in order. Through one of the open windows, Hilarycaught sight of the bunch of flowers on the reading-desk. Jane hadbrought them with her from home. Presently, the old woman herself cameto the window to shake her dust-cloth, standing there a moment, leaninga little out, her eyes turned to the parsonage. Pauline was coming upthe path, Shirley and Bell were with her. They were laughing andtalking, the bright young voices making a pleasant break in the quietof the garden. It seemed to Hilary, as if she could catch the wistfullook in Jane's faded eyes, a look only half consciously so, as if theold woman reached out vaguely for something that her own youth had beenwithout and that only lately she had come to feel the lack of. 

A quick lump came into the girl's throat. Life had seemed so brightand full of untried possibilities only that very morning, up there onMeeting-House Hill, with the wind in one's face; and then had come thatwoman, following the doctor down from the path. Life was surelyanything but bright for her this crisp August day--and now here wasJane. And presently--at the moment it seemed very near indeed toHilary--she and Paul and all of them would be old and, perhaps, unhappy. And then it would be good to remember--that they had tried toshare the fun and laughter of this summer of theirs with others. 

Hilary thought of the piece of old tapestry hanging on the studio wallover at the manor--of the interwoven threads--the dark as necessary tothe pattern as the bright. Perhaps they had need of Sextoness Jane, ofthe interweaving of her life into theirs--of the interweaving of allthe village lives going on about them--quite as much as those moresober lives needed the brightening touch of theirs. 

"Hilary! O Hilary!" Pauline called. 

"I'm coming, " Hilary answered, and went slowly down to where the otherswere waiting on the porch. 

"Has anything happened?" Pauline asked. 

"I've been having a think--and I've come to the conclusion that we're aselfish, self-absorbed set. "

"Mother Shaw!" Pauline went to the study window, "please come out here. Hilary's calling us names, and that isn't polite. "

Mrs. Shaw came. "I hope not very bad names, " she said. 

Hilary swung slowly back and forth in the hammock. "I didn't mean itthat way--it's only--" She told what Patience had said about Jane'sjoining the club, and then, rather reluctantly, a little of what shehad been thinking. 

"I think Hilary's right, " Shirley declared. "Let's form a deputationand go right over and ask the poor old soul to join here and now. "

"I would never've thought of it, " Bell said. "But I don't suppose I'veever given Jane a thought, anyway. "

"Patty's mighty cute--for all she's such a terror at times, " Paulineadmitted. "She knows a lot about the people here--and it's justbecause she's interested in them. "

"Come on, " Shirley said, jumping up. "We're going to have anotherhonorary member. "

"I think it would be kind, girls, " Mrs. Shaw said gravely. "Jane willfeel herself immensely flattered, and I know of no one who upholds thehonor of Winton more honestly or persistently. "

"And please, Mrs. Shaw, " Shirley coaxed, "when we come back, mayn'tPatience Shaw, H. M. , come down and have tea with us?"

"I hardly think--"

"Please, Mother Shaw, " Hilary broke in; "after all--she started this, you know. That sort of counterbalances the other, doesn't it?"

"Well, we'll see, " her mother laughed. 

Pauline ran to get one of the extra badges with which Shirley hadprovided her, and then the four girls went across to the church. 

Sextoness Jane was just locking the back door--not the least importantpart of the afternoon's duties with her--as they came through theopening in the hedge. "Good afternoon, " she said cheerily, "was youwanting to go inside?"

"No, " Pauline answered, "we came over to invite you to join our club. We thought, maybe, you'd like to?"

"My Land!" Jane stared from one to another of them. "And wear one ofthem blue-ribbon affairs?"

"Yes, indeed, " Shirley laughed. "See, here it is, " and she pointed tothe one in Pauline's hand. 

Sextoness Jane came down the steps. "Me, I ain't never wore a badge!Not once in all my life! Oncet, when I was a little youngster, 'mostlike Patience, teacher, she got up some sort of May doings. We was allto wear white dresses and red, white and blue ribbons--very nightbefore, I come down with the mumps. Looks like I always come down whenI ought to've stayed up!"

"But you won't come down with anything this time, " Pauline pinned theblue badge on the waist of Jane's black and white calico. "Now you'rean honorary member of 'The S. W. F. Club. '"

Jane passed a hand over it softly. "My Land!" was all she could say. 

She was still stroking it softly as she walked slowly away towardshome. My, wouldn't Tobias be interested!

CHAPTER IX

AT THE MANOR

 "'All the names I know from nurse: Gardener's garters, Shepherd's purse, Bachelor's buttons, Lady's smock, And the Lady Hollyhock, '"

Patience chanted, moving slowly about the parsonage garden, hands fullof flowers, and the big basket, lying on the grass beyond, almost full. 

Behind her, now running at full speed, now stopping suddenly, backlifted, tail erect, came Lucky, the black kitten from The Maples. Lucky had been an inmate of the parsonage for some weeks now and wasthriving famously in her adopted home. Towser tolerated her with theindifference due such a small, insignificant creature, and shealternately bullied and patronized Towser. 

"We haven't shepherd's purse, nor lady's smock, that I know of, Lucky, "Patience said, glancing back at the kitten, at that moment threateningbattle at a polite nodding Sweet William, "but you can see for yourselfthat we have hollyhocks, while as for bachelor's buttons! Just look atthat big, blue bunch in one corner of the basket. "

It was the morning of the day of Shirley's turn and Pauline washurrying to get ready to go over and help decorate the manor. She wassinging, too; from the open windows of the "new room" came the words--

 "'A cheerful world?--It surely is And if you understand your biz You'll taboo the worry worm, And cultivate the happy germ. '"

To which piece of good advice, Patience promptly whistled back the gayrefrain. 

On the back porch, Sextoness Jane--called in for an extra half-day--wasironing the white dresses to be worn that afternoon. And presently, Patience, her basket quite full and stowed away in the trap waitingbefore the side door, strolled around to interview her. 

"I suppose you're going this afternoon?" she asked. 

Jane looked up from waxing her iron. "Well, I was sort of calculatingon going over for a bit; Miss Shirley having laid particular stress onmy coming and this being the first reg'lar doings since I joined theclub. I told her and Pauline they mustn't look for me to go junketing'round with them all the while, seeing I'm in office--so to speak--andmy time pretty well taken up with my work. I reckon you're going?"

"I--" Patience edged nearer the porch. Behind Jane stood the tallclothes-horse, with its burden of freshly ironed white things. Atsight of a short, white frock, very crisp and immaculate, the bloodrushed to the child's face, then as quickly receded. --After all, itwould have had to be ironed for Sunday and--well, mother certainly hadbeen very non-committal the past few days--ever since that escapadewith Bedelia, in fact--regarding her youngest daughter's hopes andfears for this all-important afternoon. And Patience had been wiseenough not to press the matter. 

"But, oh, I do wonder if Hilary has--" Patience went back to the sideporch. Hilary was there talking to Bedelia. "You--you have fixed itup?" the child inquired anxiously. 

Hilary looked gravely unconscious. "Fixed it up?" she repeated. 

"About this afternoon--with mother?"

"Oh, yes! Mother's going; so is father. "

Patience repressed a sudden desire to stamp her foot, and Hilary, seeing the real doubt and longing in her face, relented. "Mother wantsto see you, Patty. I rather think there are to be conditions. "

Patience darted off. From the doorway, she looked back--"I just knewyou wouldn't go back on me, Hilary! I'll love you forever'n' ever. "

Pauline came out a moment later, drawing on her driving gloves. "Ifeel like a story-book girl, going driving this time in the morning, ina trap like this. I wish you were coming, too, Hilary. "

"Oh, I'm like the delicate story-book girl, who has to rest, so as tobe ready for the dissipations that are to come later. I look the part, don't I?"

Pauline looked down into the laughing, sun-browned face. "If UnclePaul were to see you now, he might find it hard to believe Ihadn't--exaggerated that time. "

"Well, it's your fault--and his, or was, in the beginning. You've afine basket of flowers to take; Patience has done herself proud thismorning. "

"It's wonderful how well that young lady can behave--at times. "

"Oh, she's young yet! When I hear mother tell how like her you used tobe, I don't feel too discouraged about Patty. "

"That strikes me as rather a double-edged sort of speech, " Paulinegathered up the reins. "Good-by, and don't get too tired. "

Shirley's turn was to be a combination studio tea and lawn-party, towhich all club members, both regular and honorary, not to mention theirrelatives and friends, had been bidden. Following this, was to be ahigh tea for the regular members. 

"That's Senior's share, " Shirley had explained to Pauline. "He insiststhat it's up to him to do something. "

Mr. Dayre was on very good terms with the "S. W. F. Club. " As forShirley, after the first, no one had ever thought of her as an outsider. 

It was hard now, Pauline thought, as she drove briskly along, the lakebreeze in her face, and the sound of Bedelia's quick trotting forming apleasant accompaniment to her, thoughts, very hard, to realize how soonthe summer would be over. But perhaps--as Hilary said--next summerwould mean the taking up again of this year's good times andinterests, --Shirley talked of coming back. As for the winter--Paulinehad in mind several plans for the winter. Those of the club members tostay behind must get together some day and talk them over. One thingwas certain, the club motto must be lived up to bravely. If not in oneway, why in another. There must be no slipping back into the olddreary rut and routine. It lay with themselves as to what their wintershould be. 

"And there's fine sleighing here, Bedelia, " she said. "We'll get theold cutter out and give it a coat of paint. "

Bedelia tossed her head, as if she heard in imagination the gayjingling of the sleighbells. 

"But, in the meantime, here is the manor, " Pauline laughed, "and it'sthe prettiest August day that ever was, and lawn-parties and suchfestivities are afoot, not sleighing parties. "

The manor stood facing the lake with its back to the road, a broadsloping lawn surrounded it on three sides, with the garden at the back. 

For so many seasons, it had stood lonely and neglected, that Paulinenever came near it now, without rejoicing afresh in its altered aspect. Even the sight of Betsy Todd's dish towels, drying on the currantbushes at one side of the back door, added their touch to the sense ofpleasant, homely life that seemed to envelop the old house nowadays. 

Shirley came to the gate, as Pauline drew up, Phil, Pat and Pudgey inclose attention. "I have to keep an eye on them, " she told Pauline. "They've just had their baths, and they're simply wild to get out inthe middle of the road and roll. I've told them no self-respecting dogwould wish to come to a lawn-party in anything but the freshest ofwhite coats, but I'm afraid they're not very self-respecting. "

"Patience is sure Towser's heart is heavy because he is not to come;she has promised him a lawn-party on his own account, and that nogrown-ups shall be invited. She's sent you the promised flowers, andhinted--more or less plainly--that she would have been quite willing todeliver them in person. "

"Why didn't you bring her? Oh, but I'm afraid you've robbed yourself!"

"Oh, no, we haven't. Mother says, flowers grow with picking. "

"Come on around front, " Shirley suggested. "The boys have been puttingthe awning up. "

"The boys" were three of Mr. Dayre's fellow artists, who had come up aday or two before, on a visit to the manor. One of them, at any rate, deserved Shirley's title. He came forward now. "Looks pretty nice, doesn't it?" he said, with a wave of the hand towards the red and whitestriped awning, placed at the further edge of the lawn. 

Shirley smiled her approval, and introduced him to Pauline, adding thatMiss Shaw was the real founder of their club. 

"It's a might jolly sort of club, too, " young Oram said. 

"That is exactly what it has turned out to be, " Pauline laughed. "Arethe vases ready, Shirley?"

Shirley brought the tray of empty flower vases out on the veranda, andsent Harry Oram for a bucket of fresh water. "Harry is to make thesalad, " she explained to Pauline, as he came back. "Before he leavesthe manor he will have developed into a fairly useful member ofsociety. "

"You've never eaten one of my salads, Miss Shaw, " Harry said. "Whenyou have, you'll think all your previous life an empty dream. "

"It's much more likely her later life will prove a nightmare, --for awhile, at least, " Shirley declared. "Still, Paul, Harry does make themrather well. Betsy Todd, I am sorry to say, doesn't approve of him. But there are so many persons and things she doesn't approve of;lawn-parties among the latter. "

Pauline nodded sympathetically; she knew Betsy Todd of old. Her wonderwas, that the Dayres had been able to put up with her so long, and shesaid so. 

"'Hobson's choice, '" Shirley answered, with a little shrug. "She isn'tmuch like our old Thèrese at home, is she, Harry? But nothing wouldtempt Thèrese away from her beloved New York. 'Vairmon! Nevaire haveI heard of zat place!' she told Harry, when he interviewed her for us. Senior's gone to Vergennes--on business thoughts intent, or I hope theyare. He's under strict orders not to 'discover a single bit' along theway, and to get back as quickly as possible. "

"You see how beautifully she has us all in training?" Harry said toPauline. 

Pauline laughed. Suddenly she looked up from her flowers with soberedface. "I wonder, " she said slowly, "if you know what it's meant tous--you're being here this summer, Shirley? Sometimes things do fit injust right after all. It's helped out wonderfully this summer, havingyou here and the manor open. "

"Pauline has a fairy-story uncle down in New York, " Shirley turned toHarry. "You've heard of him--Mr. Paul Shaw. "

"Well, --rather! I've met him, once or twice--he didn't strike me asmuch of a believer in fairy tales. "

"He's made us believe in them, " Pauline answered. 

"I think Senior might have provided me with such a delightful sort ofuncle, " Shirley observed. "I told him so, but he says, while he'sawfully sorry I didn't mention it before, he's afraid it's too latenow. "

"Uncle Paul sent us Bedelia, " Pauline told the rather perplexed-lookingHarry, "and the row-boat and the camera and--oh, other things. "

"Because he wanted them to have a nice, jolly summer, " Shirleyexplained. "Pauline's sister had been sick and needed brightening up. "

"You don't think he's looking around for a nephew to adopt, do you?"Harry inquired. "A well-intentioned, intelligent young man--with noend of talent. "

"For making salads, " Shirley added with a sly smile. 

"Oh, well, you know, " Harry remarked casually, "these are what Seniorcalls my 'salad days. '"

Whereupon Shirley rose without a word, carrying off her vases offlowers. 

The party at the manor was, like all the club affairs, a decidedsuccess. Never had the old place looked so gay and animated, sincethose far-off days of its early glory. 

The young people coming and going--the girls in their light dresses andbright ribbons made a pleasant place of the lawn, with its backgroundof shining water. The tennis court, at one side of the house, was oneof the favorite gathering spots; there were one or two boats out on thelake. The pleasant informality of the whole affair proved its greatestcharm. 

Mr. Allen was there, pointing out to his host the supposed end of thesubterranean passage said to connect the point on which the manor stoodwith the old ruined French fort over on the New York side. Theminister was having a quiet chat with the doctor, who had made aspecial point of being there. Mothers of club members were exchangingnotes and congratulating each other on the good comradeship and generalair of contentment among the young people. Sextoness Jane was there, in all the glory of her best dress--one of Mrs. Shaw's handed-downsummer ones--and with any amount of items picked up to carry home toTobias, who was certain to expect a full account of this most unusualdissipation on his mistress's part. Even Betsy Todd condescended toput on her black woolen--usually reserved for church and funerals--andwalk about among the other guests; but always, with an air that toldplainly how little she approved of such goings on. The Boyds werethere, their badges in full evidence. And last, though far from least, in her own estimation, Patience was there, very crisp and white and onher best behavior, --for, setting aside those conditions mother had seenfit to burden her with, was the delightful fact that Shirley had askedher to help serve tea. 

The principal tea-table was in the studio, though there was a secondone, presided over by Pauline and Bell, out under the awning at theedge of the lawn. 

Patience thought the studio the very nicest room she had ever been in. It was long and low--in reality, the old dancing-hall, for the manorhad been built after the pattern of its first owner's English home; andin the deep, recessed windows, facing the lake, many a bepatched andpowdered little belle of Colonial days had coquetted across her fanwith her bravely-clad partner. 

Mr. Dayre had thrown out an extra window at one end, at right angles tothe great stone fireplace, banked to-day with golden rod, therebysecuring the desired north light. 

On the easel, stood a nearly finished painting, --a sunny corner of theold manor kitchen, with Betsy Todd in lilac print gown, peeling applesby the open window, through which one caught a glimpse of the tallhollyhocks in the garden beyond. 

Before this portrait, Patience found Sextoness Jane standing in muteastonishment. 

"Betsy looks like she was just going to say--'take your hands out ofthe dish!' doesn't she?" Patience commented. Betsy had once helped outat the parsonage, during a brief illness of Miranda's, and the younglady knew whereof she spoke. 

"I'd never've thought, " Jane said slowly, "that anyone'd get that fondof Sister Todd--as to want a picture of her!"

"Oh, it's because she's such a character, you know, " Patience explainedserenely. Jane was so good about letting one explain things. "'Aperfect character, ' I heard one of those artist men say so. "

Jane shook her head dubiously. "Not what I'd call a 'perfect'character--not that I've got anything against Sister Todd; but she'stoo fond of finding out a body's faults. "

Patience went off then in search of empty tea-cups. She was having abeautiful time; at present only one cloud overshadowed her horizon. Already some tiresome folks were beginning to think about going. Therewas the talk of chores to be done, suppers to get, and with thebreaking up, must come an end to her share in the party. For mother, though approached in the most delicate fashion, had proved obdurateregarding the further festivity to follow. Had mother been willing toconsider the matter, Patience would have cheerfully undertaken toprocure the necessary invitation. Shirley was a very obliging girl. 

"And really, my dears, " she said, addressing the three P'scollectively, "it does seem a pity to have to go home before the fun'sall over. And I could manage it--Bob would take me out rowing--if Icoaxed--he rows very slowly. I don't suppose, for one moment, that wewould get back in time. I believe--" For fully three minutes, Patience sat quite still in one of the studio window seats, obliviousof the chatter going on all about her; then into her blue eyes came alook not seen there very often--"No, " she said sternly, shaking herhead at Phil, much to his surprise, for he wasn't doing anything. "No--it wouldn't be _square_--and there would be the most awful to-doafterwards. "

When a moment or two later, Mrs. Shaw called to her to come, thatfather was waiting, Patience responded with a very good grace. But Mr. Dayre caught the wistful look in the child's face. "Bless me, " he saidheartily. "You're not going to take Patience home with you, Mrs. Shaw?Let her stay for the tea--the young people won't keep late hours, Iassure you. "

"But I think--" Mrs. Shaw began very soberly. 

"Sometimes, I find it quite as well not to think things over, " Mr. Dayre suggested. "Why, dear me, I'd quite counted on Patience's beinghere. You see, I'm not a regular member, either; and I want someone tokeep me in countenance. "

So presently, Hilary felt a hand slipped eagerly into hers. "I'mstaying! I'm staying!" an excited little voice announced. "And oh, Ijust love Mr. Dayre!"

Then Patience went back to her window seat to play the delightful gameof "making believe" she hadn't stayed. She imagined that instead, shewas sitting between father and mother in the gig, bubbling over withthe desire to "hi-yi" at Fanny, picking her slow way along. 

The studio was empty, even the dogs were outside, speeding the partingguests with more zeal than discretion. But after awhile Harry Oramstrolled in. 

"I'm staying!" Patience announced. She approved of Harry. "You're anartist, too, aren't you?" she remarked. 

"So kind of you to say so, " Harry murmured. "I have heard grave doubtsexpressed on the subject by my too impartial friends. "

"I mean to be one when I grow up, " Patience told him, "so's I can havea room like this--with just rugs on the floor; rugs slide sonicely--and window seats and things all cluttery. "

"May I come and have tea with you? I'd like it awfully. "

"It'll be really tea--not pretend kind, " Patience said. "But I'll havethat sort for any children who may come. Hilary takes pictures--shedoesn't make them though. Made pictures are nicer, aren't they?"

"Some of them. " Harry glanced through the open doorway, to whereHilary sat resting. She was "making" a picture now, he thought tohimself, in her white dress, under the big tree, her pretty hairforming a frame about her thoughtful face. Taking a portfolio from atable near by, he went out to where Hilary sat. 

"Your small sister says you take pictures, " he said, drawing a chair upbeside hers, "so I thought perhaps you'd let me show you these--theywere taken by a friend of mine. "

"Oh, but mine aren't anything like these! These are beautiful!"Hilary bent over the photographs he handed her; marveling over theirsoft tones. They were mostly bits of landscape, with here and there awater view and one or two fleecy cloud effects. It hardly seemed asthough they could be really photographs. 

"I've never done anything like these!" she said regretfully. "I wish Icould--there are some beautiful views about here that would makecharming pictures. "

"She didn't in the beginning, " Harry said, "She's lame; it was anaccident, but she can never be quite well again, so she took this up, as an amusement at first, but now it's going to be her profession. "

Hilary bent over the photographs again. "And you really think--anyonecould learn to do it?"

"No, not anyone; but I don't see why the right sort of person couldn't. "

"I wonder--if I could develop into the right sort. "

"May I come and see what you have done--and talk it over?" Harry asked. "Since this friend of mine took it up, I'm ever so interested in camerawork. "

"Indeed you may, " Hilary answered. She had never thought of her cameraholding such possibilities within it, of its growing into somethingbetter and more satisfying than a mere playmate of the moment. 

"Rested?" Pauline asked, coming up. "Supper's nearly ready. "

"I wasn't very tired. Paul, come and look at these. "

Supper was served on the lawn; the pleasantest, most informal, ofaffairs, the presence of the older members of the party serving to turnthe gay give and take of the young folks into deeper and widerchannels, and Shirley's frequent though involuntary--"Do you remember, Senior?" calling out more than one vivid bit of travel, of descriptionof places, known to most of them only through books. 

Later, down on the lower end of the lawn, with the moon making a pathof silver along the water, and the soft hush of the summer night overeverything, Shirley brought out her guitar, singing for them strangefolk-songs, picked up in her rambles with her father. Afterwards, thewhole party sang songs that they all knew, ending up at last with theclub song. 

"'It's a habit to be happy, '" the fresh young voices chorused, sendingthe tune far out across the lake; and presently, from a boat on itsfurther side, it was whistled back to them. 

"Who is it, I wonder?" Edna said, "Give it up, " Tom answered. "Someone who's heard it--there've beenplenty of opportunities for folks to hear it. "

"Well it isn't a bad gospel to scatter broadcast, " Bob remarked. 

"And maybe it's someone who doesn't live about here, and he will goaway taking our tune with him, for other people to catch up, " Hilarysuggested. 

"But if he only has the tune and not the words, " Josie objected, "whatuse will that be?"

"The spirit of the words is in the tune, " Pauline said. "No one couldwhistle or sing it and stay grumpy. "

"They'd have to 'put the frown away awhile, and try a little sunnysmile, ' wouldn't they?" Patience observed. 

Patience had been a model of behavior all the evening. Mother would besure to ask if she had been good, when they got home. That was one ofthose aggravating questions that only time could relieve her from. Noone ever asked Paul, or Hilary, that--when they'd been anywhere. 

As Mr. Dayre had promised, the party broke up early, going off in thevarious rigs they had come in. Tom and Josie went in the trap with theShaws. "It's been perfectly lovely--all of it, " Josie said, lookingback along the road they were leaving. "Every good time we have seemsthe best one yet. "

"You wait 'til my turn comes, " Pauline told her. "I've such a schemein my head. "

"Am I in it?" Patience begged. She was in front, between Tom, who wasdriving, and Hilary, then she leaned forward, they were nearly home, and the lights of the parsonage showed through the trees. "There's alight in the parlor--there's company!"

Pauline looked, too. "And one up in our old room, Hilary. Goodness, it must be a visiting minister! I didn't know father was expectinganyone. "

"I bet you!" Patience jumped excitedly up and down. "I just bet itisn't any visiting minister--but a visiting--uncle! I feel it in mybones, as Miranda says. "

"Nonsense!" Pauline declared. 

"Maybe it isn't nonsense, Paul!" Hilary said. 

"I feel it in my bones, " Patience repeated. "I just _knew_ Uncle Paulwould come up--a story-book uncle would be sure to. "

"Well, here we are, " Tom laughed. "You'll know for certain prettyquick. "

CHAPTER X

THE END OF SUMMER

It was Uncle Paul, and perhaps no onewas more surprised at his unexpected coming, than he himself. 

That snap-shot of Hilary's had considerableto do with it; bringing home to him thesudden realization of the passing of the years. For the first time, he had allowed himself toface the fact that it was some time now sincehe had crossed the summit of the hill, and thatunder present conditions, his old age promisedto be a lonely, cheerless affair. 

He had never had much to do with youngpeople; but, all at once, it seemed to him thatit might prove worth his while to cultivatethe closer acquaintance of these nieces of his. Pauline, in particular, struck him as likely toimprove upon a nearer acquaintance. Andthat afternoon, as he rode up Broadway, hefound himself wondering how she wouldenjoy the ride; and all the sights and wondersof the great city. 

Later, over his solitary dinner, he suddenlydecided to run up to Winton the next day. He would not wire them, he would rather liketo take Phil by surprise. 

So he had arrived at the parsonage, driving up in Jed's solitary hack, and much pliedwith information, general and personal, on theway, just as the minister and his wife reachedhome from the manor. 

"And, oh, my! Doesn't father looktickled to death!" Patience declared, comingin to her sisters' room that night, ostensiblyto have an obstinate knot untied, but inwardlydetermined to make a third at the usualbedtime talk for that once, at least. It wasn'toften they all came up together. 

"He looks mighty glad, " Pauline said. 

"And isn't it funny, bearing him calledPhil?" Patience curled herself up in thecozy corner. "I never've thought of fatheras Phil. "

Hilary paused in the braiding of her longhair. "I'm glad we've got to know him--UnclePaul, I mean--through his letters, andall the lovely things he's done for us; else, Ithink I'd have been very much afraid of him. "

"So am I, " Pauline assented. "I see nowwhat Mr. Oram meant--he doesn't look as ifhe believed much in fairy stories. But I likehis looks--he's so nice and tall and straight. "

"He used to have red hair, before it turnedgray, " Hilary said, "so that must be a familytrait; your chin's like his, Paul, too, --sosquare and determined. "

"Is mine?" Patience demanded. 

"You cut to bed, youngster, " Paulinecommanded. "You're losing all your beautysleep; and really, you know--"

Patience went to stand before the mirror. "Maybe I ain't--pretty--yet; but I'm goingto be--some day. Mr. Dayre says he likesred hair, I asked him. He says for me not toworry; I'll have them all sitting up and taking notice yet. "

At which Pauline bore promptly downupon her, escorting her in person to the doorof her own room. "And you'd better get tobed pretty quickly, too, Hilary, " she advised, coming back. "You've had enough excitement for one day. "

Mr. Paul Shaw stayed a week; it was abusy week for the parsonage folk and forsome other people besides. Before it wasover, the story-book uncle had come to knowhis nieces and Winton fairly thoroughly;while they, on their side, had grown very wellacquainted with the tall, rather silent man, who had a fashion of suggesting the mostdelightful things to do in the most matter-of-fact manner. 

There were one or two trips decidedlyoutside that ten-mile limit, including an all daysail up the lake, stopping for the night at ahotel on the New York shore and returningby the next day's boat. There was a visit toVergennes, which took in a round of the shops, a concert, and another night away from home. 

"Was there ever such a week!" Hilarysighed blissfully one morning, as she and heruncle waited on the porch for Bedelia andthe trap. Hilary was to drive him over toThe Maples for dinner. 

"Or such a summer altogether, " Paulineadded, from just inside the study window. 

"Then Winton has possibilities?" Mr. Shaw asked. 

"I should think it has; we ought to beeternally grateful to you for making us findthem out, " Pauline declared. 

Mr. Shaw smiled, more as if to himself. "Idaresay they're not all exhausted yet. "

"Perhaps, " Hilary said slowly, "someplaces are like some people, the longer andbetter you know them, the more you keepfinding out in them to like. "

"Father says, " Pauline suggested, "that onefinds, as a rule, what one is looking for. "

"Here we are, " her uncle exclaimed, asPatience appeared, driving Bedelia. "Do youknow, " he said, as he and Hilary turned outinto the wide village street, "I haven't seen theschoolhouse yet?"

"We can go around that way. It isn'tmuch of a building, " Hilary answered. 

"I suppose it serves its purpose. "

"It is said to be a very good school for thesize of the place. " Hilary turned Bedeliaup the little by-road, leading to the oldweather-beaten schoolhouse, standing backfrom the road in an open space of bare ground. 

"You and Pauline are through here?" her uncle asked. 

"Paul is. I would've been this June, if Ihadn't broken down last winter. "

"You will be able to go on this fall?"

"Yes, indeed. Dr. Brice said so the otherday. He says, if all his patients got on sowell, by not following his advice, he'd haveto shut up shop, but that, fortunately forhim, they haven't all got a wise uncle down inNew York, to offer counter-advice. "

"Each in his turn, " Mr. Shaw remarked, adding, "and Pauline considers herself through school?"

"I--I suppose so. I know she would liketo go on--but we've no higher school here and--Sheread last winter, quite a little, withfather. Pauline's ever so clever. "

"Supposing you both had an opportunity--forit must be both, or neither, I judge--andthe powers that be consented--how aboutgoing away to school this winter?"

Hilary dropped the reins. "Oh!" shecried, "you mean--"

"I have a trick of meaning what I say, " heruncle said, smiling at her. 

"I wish I could say--what I want to--andcan't find words for--" Hilary said. 

"We haven't consulted the higher authoritiesyet, you know. "

"And--Oh, I don't see how mother couldget on without us, even if--"

"Mothers have a knack at getting alongwithout a good many things--when it meanshelping their young folks on a bit, "Mr. Shaw remarked. "I'll have a talk with herand your father to-night. "

That evening, pacing up and down thefront veranda with his brother, Mr. Shawsaid, with his customary abruptness, "Youseem to have fitted in here, Phil, --perhaps, youwere in the right of it, after all. I take ityou haven't had such a hard time, in some ways. "

The minister did not answer immediately. Looking back nearly twenty years, he toldhimself, that he did not regret that earlychoice of his. He had fitted into the life here;he and his people had grown together. It hadnot always been smooth sailing and more thanonce, especially the past year or so, hisnarrow means had pressed him sorely, but on thewhole, he had found his lines cast in apleasant place, and was not disposed to rebelagainst his heritage. 

"Yes, " he said, at last, "I have fitted in;too easily, perhaps. I never was ambitious, you know. "

"Except in the accumulating of books, " hisbrother suggested. 

The minister smiled. "I have not beenable to give unlimited rein even to that mildambition. Fortunately, the rarer theopportunity, the greater the pleasure it bringswith it--and the old books never lose their charm. "

Mr. Paul Shaw flicked the ashes from hiscigar. "And the girls--you expect them tofit in, too?"

"It is their home. " A note the elderbrother knew of old sounded in the youngerman's voice. 

"Don't mount your high horse just yet, Phil, " he said. "I'm not going to rub you upthe wrong way--at least, I don't mean to; butyou were always an uncommonly hard chap tohandle--in some matters. I grant you, it istheir home and not a had sort of home for agirl to grow up in. " Mr. Shaw stood for amoment at the head of the steps, looking offdown the peaceful, shadowy street. It hadbeen a pleasant week; he had enjoyed itwonderfully. He meant to have many more such. But to live here always! Already the citywas calling to him; he was homesick for itsrush and bustle, the sense of life and movement. 

"You and I stand as far apart to-day, insome matters, Phil, as we did twenty--thirtyyears ago, " he said presently, "and that eldestdaughter of yours--I'm a fair hand at readingcharacter or I shouldn't be where I am to-day, if I were not--is more like me than you. "

"So I have come to think--lately. "

"That second girl takes after you; shewould never have written that letter to melast May. "

"No, Hilary would not have at the time--"

"Oh, I can guess how you felt about it atthe time. But, look here, Phil, you've gotover that--surely? After all, I like to thinknow that Pauline only hurried on theinevitable. " Mr. Paul Shaw laid his hand on theminister's shoulder. "Nearly twenty years isa pretty big piece out of a lifetime. I see nowhow much I have been losing all these years. "

"It has been a long time, Paul; and, perhaps, I have been to blame in not trying morepersistently to heal the breach between us. Iassure you that I have regretted it daily. "

"You always did have a lot more pride inyour make-up than a man of your professionhas any right to allow himself, Phil. But ifyou like, I'm prepared to point out to youright now how you can make it up to me. Here comes Lady Shaw and we won'twaste time getting to business. "

That night, as Pauline and Hilary were intheir own room, busily discussing, for by nomeans the first time that day, what Uncle Paulhad said to Hilary that morning, and justhow he had looked, when he said it, and wasit at all possible that father would consent, and so on, _ad libitum_, their mother tapped at the door. 

Pauline ran to open it. "Good news, ornot?" she demanded. "Yes, or no, Mother Shaw?"

"That is how you take it, " Mrs. Shawanswered. She was glad, very glad, that thisunforeseen opportunity should be given herdaughters; and yet--it meant the first breakin the home circle, the first leaving home for them. 

Mr. Paul Shaw left the next morning. "I'll try and run up for a day or two, beforethe girls go to school, " he promised hissister-in-law. "Let me know, as soon as you havedecided _where_ to send them. "

Patience was divided in her opinion, as tothis new plan. It would be lonesome withoutPaul and Hilary; but then, for the timebeing, she would be, to all intents and purposes, "Miss Shaw. " Also, Bedelia was not goingto boarding-school--on the whole, thearrangement had its advantages. Of course, later, she would have her turn at school--Patiencemeant to devote a good deal of herwinter's reading to boarding-school stories. 

She told Sextoness Jane so, when thatperson appeared, just before supper time. 

Jane looked impressed. "A lot of thingskeep happening to you folks right along, " sheobserved. "Nothing's ever happened to me, 'cept mumps--and things of that sort; youwouldn't call them interesting. The girls to home?"

"They're 'round on the porch, looking atsome photos Mr. Oram's brought over; andhe's looking at Hilary's. Hilary's going infor some other kind of picture taking. I wishshe'd leave her camera home, when she goes toschool. Do you want to speak to them aboutanything particular?"

"I'll wait a bit, " Jane sat down on thegarden-bench beside Patience. 

"There, he's gone!" the latter said, as thefront gate clicked a few moments later. "OPaul!" she called, "You're wanted, Paul!"

"You and Hilary going to be busytonight?" Jane asked, as Pauline came acrossthe lawn. 

"Not that I know of. "

"I ain't, " Patience remarked. 

"Well, " Jane said, "it ain't prayer-meetingnight, and it ain't young peoples' night and itain't choir practice night, so I thought maybeyou'd like me to take my turn at showing yousomething. Not all the club--like's not theywouldn't care for it, but if you think theywould, why, you can show it to them sometime. "

"Just we three then?" Pauline asked. "Hilary and I can go. "

"So can I--if you tell mother you want meto, " Patience put in. 

"Is it far?" her sister questioned Jane. 

"A good two miles--we'd best walk--wecan rest after we get there. Maybe, if youlike, you'd better ask Tom and Josie. Yourma'll be better satisfied if he goes along, Ireckon. I'll come for you at about half-pastseven. "

"All right, thank you ever so much, " Paulinesaid, and went to tell Hilary, closelypursued by Patience. However, Mrs. Shawvetoed Pauline's proposition that Patienceshould make one of the party. 

"Not every time, my dear, " she explained. 

Promptly at half-past seven Janeappeared. "All ready?" she said, as the fouryoung people came to meet her. "You don'twant to go expecting anything out of thecommon. Like's not, you've all seen it a heapof times, but maybe not to take particularnotice of it. "

She led the way through the garden to thelane running past her cottage, where Tobiassat in solitary dignity on the doorstep, downthe lane to where it merged in to what wasnothing more than a field path. 

"Are we going to the lake?" Hilary asked. 

Jane nodded. 

"But not out on the water, " Josie said. "You're taking us too far below the pier for that. "

Jane smiled quietly. "It'll be on the water--whatyou're going to see, " she was gettinga good deal of pleasure out of her smallmystery, and when they reached the low shore, fringed with the tall sea-grass, she took herparty a few steps along it to where an old loglay a little back from the water. "I reckonwe'll have to wait a bit, " she said, "but it'llbe 'long directly. "

They sat down in a row, the young peoplerather mystified. Apparently the broadexpanse of almost motionless water was quitedeserted. There was a light breeze blowingand the soft swishing of the tiny waves againstthe bank was the only sound to break thestillness; the sky above the long irregular rangeof mountains on the New York side, still woreits sunset colors, the lake below sending hacka faint reflection of them. 

But presently these faded until only theafterglow was left, to merge in turn into thesoft summer twilight, through which the starsbegan to glimpse, one by one. 

The little group had been mostly silent, each busy with his or her thoughts; so far asthe young people were concerned, happythoughts enough; for if the closing of eachday brought their summer nearer to itsending, the fall would bring with it newexperiences, an entering of new scenes. 

"There!" Sextoness Jane broke the silence, pointing up the lake, to where a tiny point ofred showed like a low-hung star through thegathering darkness. Moment by moment, other lights came into view, silently, steadily, until it seemed like some long, glidingsea-serpent, creeping down towards them throughthe night. 

"A tow!" Josie cried under her breath. 

They had all seen it, times without number, before. The long line of canal boats beingtowed down the lake to the canal below; thered lanterns at either end of each boatshowing as they came. But to-night, infectedperhaps, by the pride, the evident delight, inJane's voice, the old familiar sight held themwith the new interest the past months hadbrought to bear upon so many old, familiar things. 

"It is--wonderful, " Pauline said at last. "It might be a scene from--fairyland, almost. "

"Me--I love to see them come stealing longlike that through the dark, " Jane said slowlyand a little hesitatingly. It was odd to betelling confidences to anyone except Tobias. "I don't know where they come from, norwhere they're a-going to. Many's the nightI walk over here just on the chance of seeingone. Mostly, this time of year, you're prettylikely to catch one. When I was younger, Iused to sit and fancy myself going aboard onone of them and setting off for strange parts. I wasn't looking to settle down here in Wintonall my days; but I reckon, maybe, it's just'swell--anyhow, when I got the freedom totravel, I'd got out of the notion of it--andperhaps, there's no telling, I might have beenterribly disappointed. And there ain't anyhindrance 'gainst my setting off--in my ownmind--every time I sits here and watches atow go down the lake. I've seen a heap ofbig churches in my travels--it's mostly easier'magining about them--churches are prettymuch alike I reckon, though I ain't seen many, I'll admit. "

No one answered for a moment, but Jane, used to Tobias for a listener, did not mind. Then in the darkness, Hilary laid a handsoftly over the work-worn ones clasped onJane's lap. It was hard to imagine Janeyoung and full of youthful fancies andlongings; yet years ago there had been a Jane--notSextoness Jane then--who had foundWinton dull and dreary and had longed to getaway. But for her, there had been no one towave the magic wand, that should transformthe little Vermont village into a place filledwith new and unexplored charms. Never inall Jane's many summers, had she known onelike this summer of theirs; and for them--thewonder was by no means over--the yearsahead were bright with untold possibilities. Hilary sighed for very happiness, wonderingif she were the same girl who had rockedlistlessly in the hammock that June morning, protesting that she didn't care for "half-way" things. 

"Tired?" Pauline asked. 

"I was thinking, " her sister answered. 

"Well, the tow's gone. " Jane got up to go. 

"I'm ever so glad we came, thank you somuch, Jane, " Pauline said heartily. 

"I wonder what'll have happened by thetime we all see our next tow go down, " Josiesaid, as they started towards home. 

"We may see a good many more than onebefore the general exodus, " her brother answered. 

"But we won't have time to come watch forthem. Oh, Paul, just think, only a littlewhile now--"

Tom slipped into step with Hilary, a littlebehind the others. "I never supposed the oldsoul had it in her, " he said, glancing to whereJane trudged heavily on ahead. "Still, Isuppose she was young--once; though I've neverthought of her being so before. "

"Yes, " Hilary said. "I wonder, --maybe, she's been better off, after all, right, here athome. She wouldn't have got to beSextoness Jane anywhere else, probably. "

Tom glanced at her quickly. "Is there ahidden meaning--subject to be carefully avoided?"

Hilary laughed. "As you like. "

"So you and Paul are off on your travels, too?"

"Yes, though I can hardly believe it yet. "

"And just as glad to go as any of us. "

"Oh, but we're coming back--after we'vebeen taught all manner of necessary things. "

"Edna'll be the only one of you girls leftbehind; it's rough on her. "

"It certainly is; we'll all have to write herheaps of letters. "

"Much time there'll be for letter-writing, outside of the home ones, " Tom said. 

"Speaking of time, " Josie turned towardsthem, "we're going to be busier than any beeever dreamed of being, before or since Dr. Watts. "

They certainly were busy days thatfollowed. So many of the young folks weregoing off that fall that a good many of themeetings of "The S. W. F. Club" resolvedthemselves into sewing-bees, for the girl members only. 

"If we'd known how jolly they were, we'dhave tried them before, " Bell declared onemorning, dropping down on the rug Paulinehad spread under the trees at one end of theparsonage lawn. 

Patience, pulling bastings with a business-likeair, nodded her curly head wisely. "Miranda says, folks mostly get 'round to enjoyingtheir blessings 'bout the time they come to lose them. "

"Has the all-important question beensettled yet, Paul?" Edna asked, looking up fromher work. She might not be going away toschool, but even so, that did not debar onefrom new fall clothes at home. 

"They're coming to Vergennes with me, "Bell said. "Then we can all come hometogether Friday nights. "

"They're coming to Boston with me, " Josiecorrected, "then we'll be back together forThanksgiving. "

Shirley, meekly taking her first sewinglessons under Pauline's instructions, and franklydeclaring that she didn't at all like them, dropped the hem she was turning. "They'recoming to New York with me; and in thebetween-times we'll have such fun that they'llnever want to come home. "

Pauline laughed. "It looks as thoughHilary and I would have a busy winterbetween you all. It is a comfort to know wherewe are going. "

"Remember!" she warned, when later theparty broke up. "Four o'clock Friday afternoon! Sharp!"

"Are we going out in a blaze of glory?"Bell questioned. 

"You might tell us where we are going, now, Paul, " Josie urged. 

Pauline shook her head. "You wait untilFriday, like good little girls. Mind, you allbring wraps; it'll be chilly coming home. "

Pauline's turn was to be the final wind-upof the club's regular outings. No one outsidethe home folks, excepting Tom, had beentaken into her confidence--it had beennecessary to press him into service. And when, onFriday afternoon, the young people gatheredat the parsonage, all but those named werestill in the dark. 

Besides the regular members, Mrs. Shaw, Mr. Dayre, Mr. Allen, Harry Oram and Patiencewere there; the minister and Dr. Bricehad promised to join the party later if possible. 

As a rule, the club picnics were cooperativeaffairs; but to-day the members, by specialrequest, arrived empty-handed. Mr. PaulShaw, learning that Pauline's turn was yet tocome, had insisted on having a share in it. 

"I am greatly interested in this club, " hehad explained. "I like results, and I think, "he glanced at Hilary's bright happy face, "that the 'S. W. F. Club' has achieved at leastone very good result. "

And on the morning before the eventfulFriday, a hamper had arrived from NewYork, the watching of the unpacking of whichhad again transformed Patience, for the time, from an interrogation to an exclamation point. 

"It's a beautiful hamper, " she explained toTowser. "It truly is--because father says, it's the inner, not the outer, self that makesfor real beauty, or ugliness; and it certainlywas the inside of that hamper that counted. I wish you were going, Towser. See here, suppose you follow on kind of quietlyto-morrow afternoon--don't show up too soon, andI guess I can manage it. "

Which piece of advice Towser must haveunderstood. At any rate, he acted upon it tothe best of his ability, following the party at adiscreet distance through the garden and downthe road towards the lake; and only when thehalt at the pier came, did he venture near, themost insinuating of dogs. 

And so successfully did Patience manageit, that when the last boat-load pushed offfrom shore, Towser sat erect on the narrowbow seat, blandly surveying his fellowvoyagers. "He does so love picnics, " Patienceexplained to Mr. Dayre, "and this isthe last particular one for the season. I kindof thought he'd go along and I slipped in alittle paper of bones. "

From the boat ahead came the chorus. "We're out on the wide ocean sailing. "

"Not much!" Bob declared. "I wish wewere--the water's quiet as a mill-pond this afternoon. "

For the great lake, appreciating perhapsthe importance of the occasion, had of its manymoods chosen to wear this afternoon itssweetest, most beguiling one, and lay, a broadstretch of sparkling, rippling water, betweenits curving shores. 

Beyond, the range of mountains rose darkand somber against the cloud-flecked sky, their tops softened by the light haze that toldof coming autumn. 

And presently, from boat to boat, went thecall, "We're going to Port Edward! Whydidn't we guess?"

"But that's not _in_ Winton, " Edna protested. 

"Of it, if not in it, " Jack Ward assured them. 

"Do you reckon you can show us anythingnew about that old fort, Paul Shaw?" Tracydemanded. "Why, I could go all over itblindfolded. "

"Not to show the new--to unfold the old, "Pauline told him. 

"That sounds like a quotation. "

"It is--in substance, " Pauline looked acrossher shoulder to where Mr. Allen sat, imparting information to Harry Oram. 

"So that's why you asked the old fellow, "Tracy said. "Was that kind?"

They were rounding the slender point onwhich the tall, white lighthouse stood, andentering the little cove where visitors to the fortusually beached their boats. 

A few rods farther inland, rose the tall, grass-covered, circular embankment, surrounding the crumbling, gray walls, the outershells of the old barracks. 

At the entrance to the enclosure, Tomsuddenly stepped ahead, barring the way. "Nopassing within this fort without thecounter-sign, " he declared. "Martial law, this afternoon. "

It was Bell who discovered it. "'It's ahabit to be happy, '" she suggested, and Tomdrew back for her to enter. But one by one, he exacted the password from each. 

Inside, within the shade of those old, graywalls, a camp-fire had been built andcamp-kettle swung, hammocks had been hung underthe trees and when cushions were scatteredhere and there the one-time fort bore anythingbut a martial air. 

But something of the spirit of the past musthave been in the air that afternoon, or perhaps, the spirit of the coming changes; for thispicnic--though by no means lacking in charm--wasnot as gay and filled with light-heartedchaff as usual. There was more talking inquiet groups, or really serious searching forsome trace of those long-ago days of storm and stress. 

With the coming of evening, the fire waslighted and the cloth laid within range of itsflickering shadows. The night breeze hadsprung up and from outside the slopingembankment they caught the sound of the wavesbreaking on the beach. True to theirpromise, the minister and Dr. Brice appeared atthe time appointed and were eagerly welcomedby the young people. 

Supper was a long, delightful affair thatnight, with much talk of the days when thefort had been devoted to far other purposesthan the present; and the young people, listening to the tales Mr. Allen told in his quiet yetstrangely vivid way, seemed to hear the slowcreeping on of the boats outside and to belistening in the pauses of the wind for theapproach of the enemy. 

"I'll take it back, Paul, " Tracy told her, asthey were repacking the baskets. "Even theold fort has developed new interests. "

"And next summer the 'S. W. F. Club' willcontinue its good work, " Jack said. 

Going back, Pauline found herself sittingin the stern of one of the boats, beside herfather. The club members were singing theclub song. But Pauline's thoughts hadsuddenly gone back to that wet May afternoon. 

She could see the dreary, rain-swept garden, hear the beating of the drops on thewindow-panes. How long ago and remote it allseemed; how far from the hopeless discontent, the vague longings, the real anxiety of thattime, she and Hilary had traveled. Shelooked up impulsively. "There's one thing, "she said, "we've had one summer that I shallalways feel would be worth reliving. Andwe're going to have more of them. "

"I am glad to hear that, " Mr. Shaw said. 

Pauline looked about her--the lanterns atthe ends of the boats threw dancing lights outacross the water, no longer quiet; overhead, the sky was bright with stars. "Everythingis so beautiful, " the girl said slowly. "Oneseems to feel it more--every day. "

"'The hearing ear, and the seeing eye, theLord hath made even both of them, '" herfather quoted gravely. 

Pauline drew a quick breath. "Thehearing ear and the seeing eye"--it was a goodthought to take with them--out into the newlife, among the new scenes. One would needthem everywhere--out in the world, as well asin Winton. And then, from the boat justahead, sounded Patience's cleartreble, --"'There's a Good Time Coming. '"