"Nor I."

"Nor I."

"Nor I," chanted the other three.



CHAPTER VII

THE MILL STREAM

On their way home from the old house, the four girls saw Alcinda approaching. "Don't let's say anything to her about where we've been," said Esther Ann.

"No, don't let's," returned Reba; "you know she didn't want to go there in the first place."

"It was only because she was scared to," rejoined Esther Ann.

"Well, anyhow, don't let's say anything about it," continued Reba. "Don't you say so, girls?" She looked over her shoulder at Edna and Reliance who were walking behind.

"I don't see any reason why we should," said Reliance. "Of course, if she should ask questions, we wouldn't tell her a story."

"Oh, no, we wouldn't do that," agreed the other girls.

But Alcinda had no thought of old houses or anything else at this time but her little dog, Jetty, a handsome, black Pommeranian to whom she was devoted and of whom she was very proud. "Oh, girls," she exclaimed as she came up, "have you seen or heard anything of Jetty? We haven't seen him since morning, and I am so afraid he has been stolen."

"Oh, wouldn't that be dreadful?" said Edna sympathetically.

"I don't see who would steal him," said Esther Ann, practically. "Everyone knows he belongs to you, and there aren't many strangers that come through the village."

"There are a few. There was a tramp at our back door only a few days ago."

"But you didn't lose Jet a few days ago; it was only to-day that you missed him."

"I think it's more likely he is shut up somewhere," decided Reba. "Where have you looked, Alcinda?"

"Oh, pretty near everywhere I could think of, and I have asked everybody who might have seen him."

"Maybe he has gone off with some other dogs," suggested Reliance. "Dogs will do that, and sometimes they don't come back for two or three days. Mr. Prendergast had a dog that did that way. He lives near where we used to, you know, and he had a collie named Rob Roy that would go off now and then, and the other dogs would bring him back after a while. He would come in looking so ashamed, while they stood off to see how he would be treated."

"Jetty never did run away before," said Alcinda, doubtfully, although Reliance's words were comforting.

"When did you see him last and what was he doing?" asked Esther Ann.

"Mother heard him barking at a wagon that was going by. He doesn't bark at everyone, but there are some people he can't bear."

"What people?" inquired Esther Ann, trying to get a clue.

"He doesn't like the butcher boy nor the man that drives the mill wagon, nor the man that brings the laundry. He always runs out and barks at them."

"Have you asked any of them about him?"

"No, not yet."

"Then I'll tell you what let's do, girls," proposed Esther Ann. "Two of us can go around by the mill, two of us can go to the butcher's and Alcinda can go to the laundry place."

"All right," exclaimed Alcinda hopefully. "It would be lovely if you all would do that."

"I speak to go to the butcher's," spoke up Esther Ann. She was always ready to arrange affairs for everyone. "Reliance, you and Edna can go to the mill; it isn't such a very great way, and Reba can go with me."

The girls all accepted this arrangement and set off in the three different directions.

"Do you like going to the mill?" asked Edna when she and Reliance were fairly on their way.

"Oh, yes, much better than going to the butcher's. Although it is quite a little further, it is a much prettier walk. I always did like mill ponds, didn't you, Edna?"

"Why, I don't know much about them, but I should think I would like them. Do we turn off here?"

"Yes, this road leads straight to the mill; you can see it presently through the trees."

"It isn't so very far, is it?"

"No, but it is a little further to the mill pond. I wonder if the miller is there."

"Isn't he always there?"

"He is always there in the morning, but not always in the afternoon. No, the mill is shut down."

"How do you know?"

"I don't hear it, and see there, the wheel isn't moving."

"Oh!" Edna thought that Reliance was very clever to know all this before they had even reached the mill which now loomed up before them, a grey stone structure in a little nest of trees which climbed the hill behind it, and spread along the sides of the stream, flowing on to join the river.

"It is very pretty here, isn't it?" said Edna admiringly. "What do they call the stream, Reliance?"

"Black Creek. The mill pond and dam and sluice and all those are higher up. Do you want to go see them?"

"Why, yes, if we can't do anything about finding Jetty."

"I thought we might go around by the miller's house on our way back; it isn't much further, and we could ask there."

This seemed a wise thing to do, Edna thought, and she cheerfully followed Reliance to where the mill pond lay calm and smooth before them. "It must be lovely here in summer," remarked Edna enthusiastically.

"It is one of the prettiest places anywhere about. We come here sometimes for our picnics, all of us school children and the teacher. Would you dare go across, Edna?"

Edna looked around but saw no bridge. "How could we get across?" she asked. "I don't see any way but to swim."

Reliance laughed. "There," she said, pointing to the heavy beam which stretched from shore to shore and below which the water was slowly trickling, "that's the bridge we children always use."

Edna drew back in dismay. "Oh, how can you? I wouldn't dare. It is so near the water and suppose you should fall in. I would be sure to get dizzy, and over I would go."

"Oh, pooh, I don't get dizzy," returned Reliance. "I will show you how easy it is," and in another minute she was standing on the beam, Edna shivering and with a queer sensation under her knees. "Oh, do come back, Reliance," she cried; "I am so afraid you will fall in."

But Reliance did not hear her, or if she did hear, she paid no heed, but stood looking earnestly at a point beyond her in the water. "Edna, Edna," she presently called. "You will have to come. I really believe it is Jetty out there in the water."

Edna wrung her hands. "Oh, I can't, I can't," she wept.

"You must help me try to get him in. I'll come back for you."

Edna shrank away from the shore, divided between her fear of crossing and her desire to help in the rescue. Reliance lost no time in reaching her. "You will have to come," she cried excitedly. "He is nearer the other side. I must go over and try to find a board or two, and you must stay on the beam and watch so as to see which way he heads. Poor little fellow, I wonder how long he has been in there. Come, Edna, you can put your arms around my waist and I will go ahead; you mustn't look at the water, but just step along after me; I won't let you fall."

Terrible as this effort promised to be, Edna decided that she must make it if they would save Jetty, and she followed Reliance, who, encouraging, coaxing, and leading the way step by step, managed to get the child safely across. "Isn't there any other way of getting back?" quavered Edna when they were over.

"I think there is a little bridge further down, but never mind that now, Edna; you stay there and watch, while I get a board and put it out toward him. I shouldn't wonder if I could find one somewhere about."

Fearfully, Edna crouched on the beam, which seemed but a few inches from the water. She kept her eyes fixed on the water that she might not lose sight of the little black head now not so very far away. "Jetty, Jetty," she called, "we'll get you out. Nice doggie. Please don't drown before Reliance comes."

The little dog renewed his struggles and began to swim toward her, Edna continuing her encouraging talk.

Presently Reliance came down the bank up which she had scrambled; she was dragging a board behind her and finding some difficulty in doing so. "Is he still there?" she panted.

"Yes, and trying to swim over to me."

"Don't let him, don't let him. Come over on the bank; it will be easier to get him from there. There's another board up there. I will go get it if you will hold on to this one." Edna hesitated to cross the few feet between her and the shore. "Quick, quick," insisted Reliance. "He might drift to the dam and get caught there. We must get him before he reaches it. Get down on your hands and knees and crawl."

Edna obeyed and in another moment was running along the bank toward Reliance, forgetting everything but her eagerness to save the little dog, who, seeing both girls, turned and feebly swam to where they were standing. His strength was almost spent, and he had hard work to keep from being borne along by the current which was swifter in the center of the pond.

"I'll have to shove out the board so he can reach it," said Reliance excitedly. "Here, take this pole and try to keep the board from drifting toward the dam while I go get the other board." And she thrust the forked pole into Edna's hands and then sprang up the bank, while Edna crouched down, as near the water as possible, in order to make best use of her pole.

It was not easy to keep the board from drifting out, but along the shallows it was quiet water and it did not go so very far, and before long, the little dog was able to reach it, crawling upon it and shivering while he wagged his tail feebly as Edna continued to cheer him. It was harder work now that the board was heavier by reason of the added weight, and once or twice Edna was afraid that after all her efforts would be in vain. It would be dreadful to abandon Jetty when he was so near to land, and she wished he would attempt to swim to her. But the little creature was too exhausted to make further effort now that he had reached footing, though he whined a little when the board drifted out.

Just as she was afraid it would go beyond her reach, Reliance came scrambling back, breathless from her exercise. "I had such a time," she panted. "Oh, Edna, he is really safe, and it is really poor little Jetty. How glad Alcinda will be. Here, don't let the board go." She snatched the pole from Edna's hands. "I'll hold on to it while you push out the other board. I can wade in and get him if I can't do anything else."

But once so near shore as the second board brought him, Jetty was not afraid to swim the remaining distance, having gathered up a little added strength, and after coaxing, ordering and cajoling, the girls were rewarded by seeing the little creature creep to the edge of the board, take to the water again and paddle ashore, crouching at their feet in an ecstasy of joy.

"He is so sopping wet I am afraid he will take cold," said Reliance. "I am going to wrap him up in my sweater and carry him."

"But won't you take cold," said Edna anxiously.

"No, for I am too warm with struggling up that bank and down again. We can walk fast."

At first Jetty did not even have power to shake himself, but before many minutes, his dripping coat was freed of many drops of water, which freely sprinkled the girls, who laughing ran at a safe distance, and then Reliance wrapped him up in her jersey and carried him away from the scene of his late disaster.

"How do you suppose he got in the water?" asked Edna as they trudged along.

"I think someone threw him in."

"Oh, Reliance, do you really?"

"Yes, I do. We go right by the miller's house and I am going to stop there and ask them what they know about it all."

"Do you think the miller did it?"

"Oh, no, he wouldn't do such a wicked thing; he is a very nice man, but he might have seen Jetty about the place and we may be able to find out something."

To Edna's satisfaction a small footbridge was discovered a short distance below and on this they crossed, reaching the miller's house just after. The miller himself was just going in the gate. Reliance marched up to him and without wasting words, said: "Do you know how this little dog happened to get into the mill pond?"

The miller paused and looked down at the black nose peeping from its scarlet wrapping.

"That little dog? I saw him around the mill this morning. A man that has been driving for me said he found it along the road. Is it your dog?"

"No, it belongs to Alcinda Hewlett."

"Bob Hewlett's daughter?"

"Yes, her father keeps the store and is the postmaster."

"Humph!" The miller stroked his chin and looked speculatively at the little dog.

"How do you suppose he got so far from home?" ventured Edna.

"Shouldn't wonder if he was brought in my wagon in an empty sack. Bad man, bad man, that Jeb Wilkins."

"Jetty always barked at him," said Edna.

"I guess that accounts for it. Jeb got mad and thought he'd pay the little creature back. Barked at him, did he? Well, I don't blame the dog. I did some pretty tall growling myself before I discharged the man. He's gone now for good, or bad, whichever you like."

"Do you think he threw the dog in the water?" asked Reliance coming directly to the point.

"That's just what I do think. I shouldn't wonder if he meant to steal him at first, and sell him, for it is a valuable dog, they tell me, but the dog got out, and I was keeping an eye on Jeb so he couldn't make way with the beast. I meant to take him home and advertise for his owner, but when I came to look for him, the dog was gone, though Jeb was there. Said, as innocent as you please, when I made inquiries, that some people drove by and took the dog back to town where he belonged."

"Oh!" exclaimed Edna, her eyes and mouth round with surprise and disapproval.

"Just what he said. Made it up out of whole cloth, of course, and meantime had taken his spite out on me and the poor little dog by throwing him overboard. How did you happen upon him?"

Reliance gave an account of the rescue and received approving nods. "Smart girls, you two," he commented.

"Oh, I wasn't smart at all," piped up Edna. "It was all Reliance. I couldn't have done a thing without her."

"Well," said Mr. Millikin with a smile, "you did your part, and that's enough said. I was just going to unhitch, but there is my buggy all ready, and I guess the quickest way to get you back to the village is to take you there behind Dolly."

"Oh, but we can walk, thank you," protested Reliance.

"It's pretty much of a walk, and the sooner you get there the more pleased several people will be, I for one, because I don't want Bob Hewlett's little girl to mourn for her pet any longer than she need, and again, because I am in a way responsible for what has happened. I'll go get the buggy right off. You wait here; it won't take a minute." So presently they were driving along toward home, Reliance with a horse blanket around her which Mr. Millikin fished out from under the seat and insisted upon her putting around her shoulders.

To say that Alcinda was overjoyed at the sight of her little pet which she had given up for lost, would be speaking mildly. "I'll never forget you two girls, never," she cried. "I shall thank you forever and ever, and you, too, Mr. Millikin."

"Me? I'm partly to blame, for I ought to have discharged that good-for-nothing scoundrel long ago, but he was a good driver, and I was waiting to fill his place. Well, it's all come out right, after all. I hope your little dog will be none the worse for the experience. I'll pay his doctor's bills if he gets sick." After which speech, the miller drove off, and the rescuers darted across the street to their home, where the tardiness of their appearance was entirely forgiven after they had told their story.



CHAPTER VIII

JETTY'S PARTY

Grandma was so concerned lest Edna had taken fresh cold by reason of this latest adventure that she insisted upon putting the little girl through a course of treatment to prevent possible evil results. "After dabbling in that cold water and getting her feet wet it will be a wonder if she isn't laid up," said grandma, coming into the room just as Edna was going to bed. "She must have her feet in mustard water, and Amanda is making a hot lemonade for her."

So Edna's feet were thrust into the hot bath, and she was made to sip the hot drink, then was bundled into bed with charges not to allow her arms out from under the covers. It was rather a warm and unpleasant experience, and the worst of it was that grandma said the next morning that she mustn't think of going out-of-doors that day.

"Oh, dear," sighed the little girl, when she was alone with her mother, "don't you think grandma is very particular? Did she used to do so when you were a little girl?"

"She did indeed, and when she was a little girl it was even worse, for instead of lemonade to drink, she was made to take a very bitter dose of herb tea, or a dreadful mess called composition which had every sort of nauseous thing in it you can think of. Little folks nowadays get off very easily, it seems to me."

"I didn't mind the hot lemonade a bit, but I shall never forget the smell of that mustard water," said Edna after a pause.

Her mother laughed. "You must be thankful that it is no more than that."

"What am I going to do to-day?" inquired the little girl. "I was going to do ever so many nice things out-of-doors and now I can't."

"Then we must think up some nice things to do indoors."

"What kind of things?"

"I shall have to put on my thinking cap in order to find that out. Meanwhile, suppose you run down to grandma with this tumbler; it had your lemonade in it and should go down to be washed."

Edna ran off to her grandma, coming back presently with a much brighter countenance than she took away. "Grandma is going to let me help with the turtle cakes," she said eagerly. "That's a very nice thing, don't you think?"

"I think that is very nice indeed."

"Amanda is mixing them now, and when they are cut out, I am going to help with the turtles. Good-bye, mother; I will bring you one of my turtles as soon as they are baked."

These turtle cakes were much prized by the Conway children. When grandma sent a box from the farm there was always a supply of these famous cookies. Grandma had promised that Edna should take some home with her when she went on Saturday morning. She watched Amanda roll them out, cut them in rounds and place them in the pans; then came Edna's part in the preparation. Amanda showed her how to put first a big fat raisin in the center of the cake, then a current for the turtle's head, four cloves were then stuck in, part way under the raisin, thus making the feet, and for the tail, another clove with the sharp end out. Amanda could do them much faster than Edna, but the child was greatly pleased to have completed a whole pan all by herself, and when these were baked she carefully carried some of them to her mother and Aunt Alice. Grandma had already seen the results of her granddaughter's labors.

"I know just how to do them now, mother," said Edna, "and I think it is great fun. Grandma is going to save the pan I did so I can have them to carry home."

"You might have a tea-party for the dolls this afternoon, and use some of your cookies for refreshments."

"Could Reliance come?"

"Why, I should think so. I have thought of something else for you to do this morning; you could begin a Christmas gift for Celia. You know you always have a hard time keeping her gift a secret."

"What kind of thing could I make?"

"I noticed that your sister's little work bag was getting rather dingy and I am sure she would be delighted to have a new one."

"But where will I get anything to make it of?"

"No doubt grandma has something in her piece-bag; she always has all sorts of odds and ends, and it would give her pleasure to let you have anything that might serve the purpose. I will ask her, and we can get the ribbons for it any time between now and Christmas."

Her mother was as good as her word, and leaving the room came back in a few minutes with a large bag whose contents she emptied on the bed. "There," she said, "take your choice. Grandma says you are perfectly welcome to anything you find."

Edna began turning over the pieces. "You help me choose, mother," she said presently. "I don't know just how big the piece ought to be."

Her mother drew up her chair and began to look over the bits of gay silk before her. "I declare," she said presently, "here is a piece of a party frock I wore when I was about Celia's age. It was almost my first real new party frock, for before that I always wore a simple white muslin. This is perfectly new, and must have been left over. To think of its being in this bag all those years. It appears to be sufficiently strong, however." She shook it out and held it up to the light. The material was a pale green silk with tiny bunches of flowers upon it. Edna thought it very pretty.

"I think Celia will be perfectly delighted to have a bag made of your first party frock, mother," she said. "Do you think grandma would mind my having it?"

"I am sure she will be very much pleased. We will decide upon that, and you can put back the rest of the pieces. There will be an abundance in this for a nice, full bag I am sure. I will cut it out for you and show you just how to make it."

The time passed so rapidly in planning and making the bag that it was the dinner hour before they knew it, and after dinner came an unexpected call from Alcinda. She was a sedate-looking little girl with big blue eyes and straight, mouse-colored hair, but upon this occasion she was dimpling and smiling as she handed a tiny, three-cornered note to Edna. Upon opening this Edna discovered, written in a childish hand, the following words, "Mr. Jetty Hewlett requests the honor of Miss Edna Conway's company to a tea-party at four o'clock this afternoon."

"Oh, dear," sighed Edna, "I'm awfully afraid I can't go, for grandma said it was as much as my life was worth to go out of the house to-day."

"Oh, but you aren't ill, are you?" asked Alcinda.

"No, but she is afraid I will be."

"But you must come," persisted Alcinda, "for it is in honor of you and Reliance, and Jetty is going to help receive."

"I will go ask mother," returned Edna, and running off she returned with Mrs. Conway.

"Mayn't Edna come to Jetty's tea-party?" begged Alcinda. "We have everything planned, and it will be perfectly dreadful if she stays away. She won't take cold, just going across the street, and our house is as warm as anything."

Edna looked beseechingly at her mother. "Do please say yes, mother," she begged.

"I don't see how you could take cold going just across the street, if you wrap up well and wear your rubbers," said her mother.

"Goody! Goody!" cried Alcinda. "Here is an invitation for Reliance, too. Be sure to come at four o'clock. I have some more invitations to deliver so I must go."

"Now I needn't have a tea-party for the dolls," said Edna when Alcinda had gone. Her mother smiled. "You speak as if that would be a great hardship," she remarked.

"No, I don't mean that, but I would so much rather go to Alcinda's. Shall I wear my best frock, mother?"

"Why, yes, I think you may."

"I wonder if grandma will let Reliance go, and what she will wear," said Edna, after a moment's thought. "I think I will go ask, mother, for I don't want to be better dressed than Reliance; it was really she who saved Jetty, you know."

"That is the proper feeling, dear child."

Edna flew off to find Reliance who had received her invitation, and hoped for the permission from Mrs. Willis. "I do hope she will let me go," she said fervently. "Come with me, Edna, when I ask her, won't you?"

Edna was very ready to do this, and hunted up her grandmother. "Oh, grandma," she cried, "we've been invited to a party over at Alcinda's. Jetty is giving it in honor of Reliance and me. Mother says I won't take cold just going across the street, and you are going to let Reliance go, too, aren't you?"

"What's all this?" inquired grandma.

Edna repeated her news, but her grandmother did not reply for a moment. "I am afraid Reliance will not be back in time to do her evening work," she said at last.

"Oh, but—" this was an unexpected objection, "couldn't she do some of it before she goes?"

"She might do some, but not all, however, we will see. Reliance, you bustle around and see how smart you can be, and I will think what can be done."

"I can set the table," said Edna eagerly. "Would you mind if it were done so much ahead of time for just this once?"

"No," replied her grandmother very kindly.

"And may I skim the milk and bring up the butter for supper? I can set it in the pantry where it will keep cool," Reliance said.

"You may do that," Mrs. Willis told her.

"What else will there be to do?" asked Edna, as the two little girls hurried from the room.

"I have to turn down the beds and light the lamps when it gets dark."

"That isn't very much to do. Maybe Amanda wouldn't mind seeing to those things for just this one time. I am going to ask her."

Reliance was only too glad to have Edna take this request off her hands, herself having a wholesome awe of Amanda, but to her relief Amanda was in a good humor and promised to look after these extra duties, so in good season Reliance was free to prepare for the party, while Edna went to her mother to be dressed.

"Mother," she said, "do you think it is funny to go to a party with a bound girl? Is a bound girl the same as a Friendless? You know Margaret McDonald is our friend, and she used to be a Friendless."

"I don't think it is funny at all. Reliance had no home, to be sure, till your grandmother took her, but she is a good, little girl, and I used to know her father when I lived here."

"Oh, mother, did you?"

"Oh, yes, he was quite a nice, young man. I never knew his wife, but I am afraid he did not marry very well. Reliance will probably have to work for her living, but that is no reason why she should not be treated as an equal. The people about here know she comes of good stock and that the poverty of the family was due more to misfortune than misbehavior. I have no doubt but Reliance will make a fine woman, as her grandmother was, and when she is grown up, she may marry some farmer of the neighborhood, and take the place she should."

This was all very interesting to Edna, and she sat looking at the outstretched feet upon which she had just drawn her stockings till her mother reminded her that time was flying. "Wake up, dearie," she said. "Why, what a brown study you are in. Reliance will be ready long before you are. Hurry on with your shoes, and then come let me tie your hair."

At this Edna jumped and bustled around with such promptness that she was ready by the time Reliance came to the door neatly dressed in her bright plaid frock and scarlet hair ribbons. She was a dark-haired, dark-eyed little girl with rosy cheeks, and though not exactly pretty, had a pleasant, intelligent face. Edna had finally decided not to wear her best white frock, but had on a pretty blue challis, quite suited to the occasion, her mother told her.

The two little girls set out in high feather and arrived at Alcinda's house to find that several had reached there before them. Jetty, with a huge red bow on his collar, barked a welcome, and Alcinda beamed upon them as they entered. "I was so afraid something would happen to keep you," she said.

Esther Ann hurried forward to talk as fast as she could, as was her habit, her words tumbling over one another in her effort and excitement. "Wasn't it splendid that you two found Jetty? I wish we had gone that way, but then maybe we wouldn't have found him after all. I think it is real nice of Alcinda to ask Reliance when she is a bound girl, don't you?" This in an aside to Edna. "I'm sure she is as good as anybody. How long are you going to stay? Here, I'll show you where to take off your things; you needn't go, Alcinda." And she swept the little hostess aside while she led the way to an upper room.

By this time, the latest comers had arrived, so there were about a dozen in all, enough for almost any game they might choose to play. In the first, Hide the Handkerchief, Jetty joined with great zeal, being always the first one to find the handkerchief. "You see he does it with his nose," said Alcinda by way of explanation, a remark which made everyone laugh, and set the lively Esther Ann to sticking her nose into every corner the next time the handkerchief was hidden.

"You ought to put cologne on it and then maybe we could find it," she said, and this, too, raised a laugh as she meant it should, for it took very little to amuse them.

At five o'clock a tray was brought in. Delicious cocoa and home-made cakes were served, followed by candies, nuts and raisins. While the girls were busy over these, Alcinda cast many glances toward the door and once or twice whispered to her mother, who nodded reassuringly. It was evident that some matter of surprise was to follow. What it was, came to light a little later when Mr. Hewlett came in. He knew each little girl, for even Edna was no stranger to him, so he spoke to each by name. Then he stood up by the fireplace and said: "You have all heard of the medals which are given for the performance of brave deeds. Well, my little girl thinks her small dog would like to show his appreciation of the act which saved his life the other day, and so I have prepared two medals for the heroines of that occasion; they are not gold medals; in fact they are not real medals and of no special value except that they represent her, and our, gratitude to the little girls who were the life savers." He paused and looked at Alcinda who bustled forward and gave into his hands two tiny baskets.

"Here, Jetty," called Mr. Hewlett, and Jetty, who had been sitting in Mrs. Hewlett's lap, jumped down and danced over to see what was required of him. Mr. Hewlett stooped down and gave the dog one of the small baskets which he took in his month with much wagging of tail.

"Take it, Jetty," ordered Mr. Hewlett. Jetty started off toward his little mistress, who quickly left her place and stood by Edna's chair. Jetty dropped the basket, not knowing exactly what was expected of him.

"Bring it here, Jet," said Alcinda. Therefore, being sure of himself, Jetty frisked over to where Alcinda was standing. "Give it to Edna," said Alcinda, laying her hand on Edna's lap. Jetty did as he was told and then scampered back to repeat the operation, this time it being Reliance to whom he was directed to go.

"Do let's see," urged Esther Ann, edging up to Edna.

Edna uncovered the basket and saw a box lying there. Inside the box was a new quarter in which a hole had been drilled; a string had been passed through this and to the string was attached a bow of blue ribbon. Reliance found the same in her basket, only her ribbon was red.

"You must put them on and wear them," said Alcinda, "so everyone can see how honorable you are." She didn't just know why her father and mother smiled so broadly.

The girls proudly pinned on their medals and wore them home, for very soon came grandpa to say they must get ready to go.

"I'm going to keep mine forever and ever, aren't you?" whispered Reliance, as she started around to the kitchen door.

"'Deed I am," returned Edna.



CHAPTER IX

THE ELDERFLOWERS

Edna's account of the G. R. club, to which she and most of her friends belonged, had quite excited the ambition of the little girls at Overlea to have a similar one.

"I told my father about it," said Reba to Edna when they met at Jetty's party, "and he thought it was a most beautiful club, didn't he, Esther Ann, and he ought to know. He said we could have one just like it."

"Oh, we don't want to do that," put in Esther Ann scornfully. "We don't want to be copy-cats. We want to have something all our ownty downty selves, and not just like somebody else."

"That's just what I think," spoke up Emma Hunt. "Not that I don't think yours is the best I ever heard of, and I don't see why we couldn't have one something like it, just a little different."

"There aren't so very many girls of us, for there are more old people than children in this place," said Alcinda. "Would that make any difference, Edna? Yours is such a big club."

"It wasn't big when we began; there were only six of us to begin with."

"Oh, were there? Then we could do it easily. Let me see how many are here; one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, and there is Mattie Bond who couldn't come because she is sick; she would make twelve."

"How many are there in your club?" asked Reliance.

"Oh, I don't know just how many by now. Uncle Justus has a pretty big school and almost every girl belongs to it," replied Edna.

"The real big girls?"

"Yes, and we have one very grown-up lady, an honorary member; I'll tell you all about Miss Eloise some day. Agnes Evans was our first president, and she is really grown up, for she is at college."

"I think a little club would be nicer," Esther Ann spoke her mind.

"But what shall it be and what shall we call it?" asked Alcinda.

"I'll tell you what," proposed Edna, "you all ask your mothers what they think and I will ask my mother what she thinks, and we can meet somewhere to-morrow to talk it over."

"I haven't any mother," came a sorrowful little voice from the corner. Big Reliance put her arm around the younger girl. "Never mind, Letty," she whispered; "neither have I, but we can ask somebody else's mother."

"I'll lend both of you my mother," whispered Edna from the other side.

So it was that the company of little girls went home from Jetty's party with quite a new plan. Even Edna, who would really have no part in the club, was much interested, and could scarcely wait to talk it over with her mother at bedtime. She began as soon as they were upstairs together. "Mother," she said, "do you think grandma would let Reliance come up while I am getting ready for bed?"

"Why, dearie, I don't know, I am sure. Why do you want her on this special night?"

"Because there is something we girls are going to talk over with our mothers, and Reliance hasn't any mother, neither has Letty Osgood, and I told them I would lend them my mother. You don't mind, do you, mother dear?" Edna put her two hands on each of her mother's cheeks and looked at her very earnestly.

"Why, my darling, of course not," returned Mrs. Conway, kissing her. "You know mother is always very glad to mother any little girl who may need her. What is this wonderful something you are to talk over?"

"I think we'd better not begin until we know about Reliance though. I wish I had asked grandma before I came up, but I wanted to speak to you first, mother dear."

"Then I will go down and ask her. Where is Reliance?"

"I suppose she is in the kitchen with Amanda; I don't believe she has gone to bed yet."

Her mother left the room, and while Edna unlaced her shoes, she listened for her return. In a few minutes she heard voices on the stair and realized that Reliance was coming up. "We haven't said a word about it yet," she nodded to Reliance who came in behind Mrs. Conway. "You begin, Reliance."

"No, you," said Reliance drawing back shyly.

"Well," began Edna, addressing her mother, "you see the girls want to get up a club something like ours, only not just like it, and they don't want the same name either. There aren't such a lot of girls here, because there are so many more old people than young ones in this village, and so you see—what kind of club would be nice, mother?"

"Why, dearie, I shall have to think it over."

"We ought to decide very soon," said Edna, "for I should hate to go away without knowing. Could Reliance bring Letty Osgood home with her from school to-morrow? I lent you to her, too, and maybe by that time you might think of something?"

"We'll ask grandma about it, dear, though I am sure she will not object. Is that all now?"

Edna thought it was, and now that she was ready to pop into bed, Reliance left her with a happy "Good-night!" It was like sunshine in the house to have such a dear little girl as Edna, she thought as she went downstairs, and though Amanda reprimanded her sharply for not being in bed, she did not answer back, for, in fact, she scarcely heard her, so busy was she with pleasant thoughts, and so excited over the idea of the club.

The next morning, Edna and her mother did a great deal of talking about the new club, so much, in fact, that when it was time for Reliance to return from school, Edna was on the lookout for her, feeling that she had so much to tell that there should be no time wasted. "Here they come, mother," she sang out. "Reliance and Letty. May I bring them right up here?"

"To be sure you may."

"I'm going down to tell Amanda to 'scuse Reliance for just a few minutes." She flew downstairs to the kitchen. "'Manda," she said, "mother is going to talk over something very important with Reliance and Letty, so will you please not call her for a few minutes? I'll help her set the table."

"It seems to me you are making too much of Reliance," returned Amanda; "she can't be brought up to look for nothing but ease and pleasure; she will have to work for her living."

"But this isn't anything that is going to keep her from doing that," explained Edna, "and grandma said she could have a little time to play while I am here, specially when I help her."

"Oh, well, go 'long," returned Amanda, "only don't keep her too long; there's more to do than set the table."

Though the permission was accorded rather ungraciously, Edna was satisfied, and ran to welcome Letty who was just coming in the gate. "I am so glad you could come," she said. "You are going to stay to dinner, aren't you? Did you ask your father?"

"Yes, and he said I might."

"Good! Then come right upstairs and take off your things. Oh, girls, mother has a lovely plan for a club, and the dearest name you ever heard. You can come, Reliance, grandma said so, and so did Amanda. I'm going to help set the table."

She led the way up to where her mother was sitting, her face bright with eagerness as she brought Letty forward. "This is Letty Osgood, mother, Dr. Osgood's daughter, you know."

Mrs. Conway drew the shy little girl nearer. "It is very nice to see Letitia Osgood's daughter," she said. "I knew your dear mother very well, and I am glad to have my little girl making friends with her little girl."

"Now, mother," began Edna, breaking in, "won't you please not talk much at first about anything but the club, because Reliance has only a few minutes to stay."

Her mother smiled and nodded to Letty. "Very well, Letty," she said, "well have a nice, little, cozy chat all to ourselves after awhile when this impatient young person has had her subject discussed. I was thinking, girlies, that as long as there are so many elderly and old people in the village, some of whom are poor and some who are partial invalids, that it would be a very sweet thing if you little girls could form yourselves into a club which would help to make their lives a little less sad. It would mean a great deal to old Miss Belinda Myers, for instance, if one of you would drop in once in a while with a flower, or any little thing for her. She is so crippled up with rheumatism that she can't leave her room, and must sit there by the window all day long. She is fond of children, too. Of course she has plenty of this world's goods, and her old friends do not neglect her, yet I am sure that you could give something to her by your mere presence which none of the older persons could. Then there is poor old Nathan Keener."

"Oh, but he is such an old cross patch," interrupted Edna.

"So he is, but he has had enough to make him so. I wonder if any one of us would be very amiable if she were poverty-stricken, half sick all the time, had lost all her friends and had been cheated out of the little which would make old age comfortable? It is very easy to be smiling and agreeable when everything goes right, but when things go wrong, it isn't half so easy, especially when one hasn't a good disposition to begin with."

"But what in the world could we do for him?" asked Reliance. "If we stopped to speak to him, very likely he would get after us with a stick."

"Did any of the boys and girls ever try the experiment of speaking to him pleasantly? I am quite sure the boys do their best to annoy him in any way they can contrive, and even some of the girls tease him slyly and call him names, I am told."

"Yes, they do," replied Reliance, doubtfully, who herself was not entirely innocent in this regard.

"Suppose you were to try the experiment of beginning by smiling when you go by and saying, pleasantly, 'Good-morning, Mr. Keener?' Then next day, even if he chased you away the first time, you might say, 'Isn't this a lovely morning, Mr. Keener?' and you could always make a point of saying something pleasant to him when you go by. Then some day when it is raining or too cold for him to sit in his doorway——"

"Like a great big, ugly spider," remarked Letty.

Mrs. Conway paid no heed to the comment, "you could leave a big apple on the doorsill for him, and so on, till in time I will venture to say he will learn that you wish him well and are trying to be friends. You must keep in your mind all the time that he is a poor, neglected, friendless, unhappy old man and that if you can succeed in bringing even a little sunshine into his life, you will be doing a great deal."

The girls were very sober for a few minutes, then Reliance said thoughtfully, "I believe I should like to try it anyway."

"Of course," Mrs. Conway went on, "the girls may have found other and better ideas for a club, and a better name than I can suggest, but it seemed to me that this might be made something like the G. R., yet would not be exactly the same, and it could have quite a different name."

"Oh, mother," exclaimed Edna, "do tell the name you thought of, I think it is so lovely."

"I thought you might call yourselves 'The Elderflowers,' because your good deeds would be directed toward your elders, and you would be cheerful, little flowers to bring sweetness to sad lives."

"I think it is the most beautiful idea," exclaimed Letty earnestly, "and I shall be dreadfully disappointed if the girls want something different. I begin to feel sorry for old Nathan Keener already."

"That is an excellent beginning," said Mrs. Conway, with a smile.

Here came a call from Amanda, so Reliance and Edna scampered off leaving Letty to be entertained by Mrs. Conway.

When Reliance came home from school that afternoon, she brought the information that the girls were going to meet in Hewlett's old blacksmith shop that afternoon, and that Edna was to be sure to come. To her own great disappointment, she could not go herself, for Amanda declared that she could not get along without her, and that all this gallivanting about was a mistake, and that if Mrs. Willis was going to have a bound girl there for her to bother with and get no good of, she guessed it was time for younger folks to take her place. A girl that spent half her time at school and the other half skylarking wouldn't amount to much anyway was her opinion.

So because the old servant had to be pacified and because it was a day on which Reliance could really be ill spared, she did not attend the meeting.

"I am sorry, dear," said Mrs. Willis, when Edna begged to have the decree altered, "but I am afraid we really cannot spare Reliance this afternoon. You know she has had a lot of time for play this past week; we have been very indulgent to her because of your being here." Edna saw that this was final and went to her mother with rather a grave face.

"Mother," she said, "isn't it too bad that Reliance can't go? She says she wouldn't mind so much if it were not for the voting, but you see if she isn't there, she will lose her vote, and we do so want the Elderflower plan to be the one."

"Why couldn't you be her proxy?" said Mrs. Conway.

"Proxy? What is proxy, mother?"

"It is some one appointed in the place of another to do what would otherwise be done by the first person; for instance, in this case you could be proxy for Reliance and vote for her. She could sign a paper which would make it very plain."

"Oh, mother, will you write the paper and let me take it to her to sign?"

"Certainly I will." She drew the writing materials to her and wrote a few lines. "There," she said, "I think that will do."

"Please read it, mother."

Mrs. Conway read: "I hereby appoint Edna Conway to be my proxy and to vote upon any question which may come up before this meeting.

"Signed—"

"That sounds very important," said Edna, clasping her hands. "Show me where she is to sign her name, mother. I know she will be perfectly delighted that I can speak for her."

Reliance truly was pleased, the more that the sending of such an important legal document gave her a certain position with the others. She signed her name with a flourish, and Edna, armed with the indisputable right to take her place, started off for Hewlett's old blacksmith shop. This sat back some distance from the store, and was used as a storage place for empty boxes and such things.

Edna found most of the company gathered when she arrived. They were all chattering away with little idea of what must be done first. "Here comes Edna Conway," cried Esther Ann; "she can tell us just what to do. Come along, Edna. What was the first thing you did when you got up a club?"

"We had a president and a secretary the first thing; the president was called pro tem.; she wasn't the real president till we elected her."

"Then you be pro tem., for you know just what to do."

"Oh, no, I couldn't," Edna shrank from such a public office, and her little round face took on a look of real distress at such a prospect.

"Somebody's got to be then," said Esther Ann. "I will."

"I will, I will," came from one and another of the girls, too eager for prominence to care about what was expected of them.

"We can't all be," remarked Milly Somers. "We're wasting time and we ought to have had this all settled at first. I wish there were some older person to get us started."

"Everyone isn't here yet," spoke up Alcinda. "Isn't Reliance coming, Edna?"

"No, she can't. She has too much to do this afternoon, but I am her proxy. I've got a paper that says so."

The girls giggled. "Isn't she cute?" whispered Esther Ann. "Let's see the paper, Edna."

Edna solemnly drew it from the small bag she carried, and handed it to Esther Ann.

"Read it, Esther Ann, read it," clamored the girls. And Esther Ann read it aloud.

"How in the world did you know about such a thing," said Milly Somers.

"Oh, I didn't think of it," she answered; "it was my mother."

"She must be awfully smart," said Esther Ann admiringly. "I wish she were here to tell us just what to do, if you won't do it."

"Maybe she would come for just a little while," said Edna, feeling assured that if her mother were there to tell of her own ideas about the club that there would be no doubt of its being "The Elderflowers." "Suppose I go and ask her," she added.

"All right," agreed the girls. "Tell her if she will stay just long enough to tell us how to get started, it is all we ask."

Edna rushed back to the house and upstairs, where she breathlessly explained her errand. "You will go? won't you, mother, just for a few minutes," she begged. "You won't have to change your dress, or even put a hat on if you don't want to. We need you so very, very much. Nobody knows what to do, and they all talk at once, and giggle and say silly things. It ought to be real serious, oughtn't it?"

"Not too serious, I should say," returned her mother. "Very well, dear, I will come." She threw on a long coat and followed the little girl across the street to where the prospective club members waited expectantly.

It did not take long to set the ball in motion, and in less than half an hour Esther Ann was made president pro tem., Milly Somers was appointed secretary, and the business of choosing came up. There were not very many original ideas offered. Few of the girls had any. Mrs. Conway listened to them all, and at last explained her own plan so clearly and with such earnestness that it was a matter of only a few minutes before it was decided that "The Elderflower Club" should start its existence at once.

To cap the climax, Edna was elected an honorary member, "for," said the girls, "if it hadn't been for you we should never have had a club at all. And when you come to your grandfather's, you will always know that you must attend the club meetings."

Therefore, it was a very happy little girl who went back to report to Reliance the happenings of this first meeting of the club.



CHAPTER X

WHAT BEN DID

The members of the Elderflower Club were so eager to begin business that they could scarcely wait till the next day. The more retiring ones, like Alcinda, contented themselves with beginning their ministrations to relatives or those they knew, but it was to adventurous spirits like Esther Ann and Reliance that a difficult case such as old Nathan Keener appealed. Reliance, following out Mrs. Conway's advice, gave a cheery "Good-morning, Mr. Keener," as she went by his dilapidated house on her way to school. She reported this performance to the other girls at recess.

"Oh, Reliance, you didn't dare, did you?" exclaimed Alcinda. "What did he do? Did he run after you?"

"No, he only frowned and grunted."

"Did you walk very fast when you went by?" asked little Letty Osgood, being very sure that she would not have loitered upon such an occasion.

"No, not so very. I just walked as I always do."

"Then I think you were very brave," continued Letty.

"Pooh!" exclaimed Esther Ann, "that wasn't anything to do. Just wait till you see what I am going to do."

"What, Esther Ann? What?" clamored the girls.

"Wait till this afternoon and you will see," was all Esther Ann would say to satisfy their curiosity.

This being Friday and Edna's last day at her grandmother's, her friends begged that she be allowed to go with them to school that afternoon. "We don't have real lessons," Reliance told her, "for Miss Fay reads to us, and we have a sewing lesson."

"I'd love to go," said Edna, "and I could take the work bag I am making for Celia. I could finish it, I think. May I go?"

"I haven't the slightest objection," Mrs. Conway assured her. So she set off with Reliance, and felt quite at home since she knew all the girls of her own age, and older, and, as she said, "the littler ones don't count."

Everything moved along pleasantly during the school session, and the girls started along in a bunch toward home. "You just come with me, Edna," said Esther Ann. "You see you are a member of the club, too, and this will be your only chance to do a deed. The others can follow along if they want. I'll tell you what I am going to do and you can take part, if you like."

The others were both timid and curious, and were quite content to obey Esther Ann's suggestion to "follow on." Edna, it may be said, was not inspired with that wholesome dread of old Nathan which possessed the others, for she had not been brought up under the shadow of his ogre-like actions, and she felt that this was an opportunity which she could not neglect. She trotted along valiantly by Esther Ann's side, the others keeping a safe distance behind.

"Tell me what you are going to do," said Edna to her companion, as they proceeded on their way.

For answer, Esther Ann dived down into her school-bag and produced first one then another big, red apple. "I am going to give these to Nathan. You can give one. I mean just to walk right up to him and say, 'Won't you have an apple, Mr. Keener?'"

"Suppose he isn't there," returned Edna.

"Oh, he'll be there; he always is when it is a bright day like this. He sits in an old chair on that broad doorstep in front of his house, and leans on a big, thick stick he always carries."

"Who cooks for him?"

"Oh, he cooks for himself, when he has anything to cook. He has a little garden, but it doesn't amount to much. He has no apple trees except an old one that is nearly dead and never has but a few little, measly, knerly apples on it; that's why I thought he'd like these."

Their walk was carrying them nearer and nearer the old man's door. "There he is now," whispered Esther Ann. "I'll go first and you come right up behind me. Here, take your apple." She thrust the fruit into Edna's hand and hastened her own pace a little. Edna's heart began to beat fast, for surely Nathan Keener was anything but an attractive figure as he sat there glowering and muttering, his gaunt hands resting on his knotted stick, and his grizzly old face wearing a wrathful look.

True to her guns, Esther Arm dashed forward and held out her apple saying in a shrill, excited voice, "Won't you have——"

But she got no further, for with a snarl the old man reached out one long, bony arm and grabbed her by the shoulder, raising his stick threateningly, "I'll larn ye, ye little varmint," he began.

Esther screamed. Edna, paralyzed with fright, looked on with affrighted eyes, but presently found voice to quaver out, "Please don't hurt her! Oh, please don't!"

The other girls a little distance off stood huddled together like a flock of sheep. No one was brave enough to venture within reach of that terrible stick, but just then along came a crowd of boys from school. The foremost took in the situation in a glance, and in another instant was on the platform by Esther's side.

"Here, you old mut, what are you doing to my sister?" he cried, at the same time trying to wrest the stick from the old man's grasp.

But Nathan had too long wielded the stick with effect to lose it so readily. Loosing his hold upon Esther, he swiftly shifted his weapon to his other hand and brought down a blow on the boy's back.

By this time the other boys had come up; there were cries, threats, screams from the girls, shouts from the boys. All was in a dreadful hub-bub when along the road approached a young man who stood for a moment and then dashed to the scene of battle. "Here, boys, here," he cried, "what are you doing to that old man?"

"He was going to beat my sister," spoke up the one who had first hurried to the front.

"You old scalawag," cried the young man, "what were you up to? If you are yearning to hit somebody, take a fellow your own size." He wrenched the stick from the man's grasp and threw it away. "Now," he said, "have it out if you will. I'm ready." He squared off, but the old man had neither strength nor desire to grapple with such a masterful opponent, and he slunk back against his door.

"I guess if your life was pestered by a set of young wretches like these, you'd threaten, too," he said surlily. "I guess I'm getting too smart for their tricks, and know enough not to take anything they offer me. I don't have to have more'n one apple full of red pepper set on my doorsill. I guess I know who hides my loaf of bread, and puts salt in my can of milk. I guess I cut my eyeteeth a good many years ago, and can catch 'em at their tricks."

The young man looked around at the group of boys, now rather shamefaced, at the group of girls now gathered around Esther Ann. On the edge of this latter group he recognized a little round face now tear-stained and affrighted. In a moment he was by Edna's side. "Well, I'll be everlastingly switched," he exclaimed, "Edna, my child, what are you doing in this mix-up?"

"Oh, Ben," returned Edna, "it was all a mistake. Nobody meant to play a trick."

"Come over here and tell me all about it," said Ben, leading her aside. Edna poured forth her tale of woe, during the recital of which more than once Ben's mouth twitched and his eyes grew merry. "It doesn't do to be too zealous, does it?" he said at the close of the story. "Here, old fellow, come back here." He made a dash at old Nathan who was now retreating within his own doorway. Ben pulled him back by his coat-tails. "We aren't through with this yet," he went on as the man turned upon him with a few smothered words. "That isn't a pretty way to talk. You have something of a case, I admit, but you happened to overreach yourself this time. No, you're not going in yet. A little more fresh air won't hurt you. Sit down there and be good and I will tell you a pretty little story." He pushed the old man gently into his chair and stood guard over him. "No, you don't need your stick yet; you might get careless with it. I'll just lean it up against the house. Now, then, those little girls hadn't a notion of playing you a trick; they were trying to do you a kindness. They knew you were lonely and hadn't much chance to run around with the boys, or run an automobile, so they thought they would chirk you up a little by presenting you with a large, sweet, juicy, red apple. Their little hearts were throbbing with good-will; they had an unconquerable desire to bring a smile to your lips and a gleam of happiness to your eye. To prove this to you, I will now dissect this large, sweet, juicy, red apple. I will eat half and you will eat the other. If it isn't a good apple, I'll eat my hat." He carefully cut the apple, which Edna had given him, pared and quartered it, stuck a piece on the end of his knife and offered it to the old man, who pushed it away contemptuously. "Let me insist," Ben went on. "We are not playing Adam and Eve in the garden of Eden. There is no serpent in sight, not so much as a worm, and if you find so much as a grain of red pepper I'll acknowledge myself beaten."

The old man muttered incoherently as Ben finished his harangue, but made no motion to take the apple. "You don't know what you are missing," Ben went on. "Now just for the sake of old times, let's try to be jolly and remember when we were boys. Why, many a time you and I have raced down this shaded street, shouting with mirth, have climbed the wall by the orchard and stuffed our pockets with apples like these. You never could take a joke, as I remember, but still you weren't a bad fellow, and I'll bet you were a wonder at baseball. I shouldn't wonder if your batting didn't beat the town. The way you swing around that stick of yours shows there is 'life in the old land yet.'"

The old man's face had relaxed a little and he no longer muttered under his breath. Ben winked at the boys who had drawn nearer and were enjoying the situation to the utmost. "Now, just for old times' sake," continued Ben, "just tell me what was the last real, good, old-fashioned trick you ever played?" The old man cast a half-suspicious look at the smiling young man by his side, but made no reply. "Too bad you forget," said Ben, "but I'll bet an apple to an oyster you don't forget that last game you played."

"Who told you about it?" snapped out the old man.

"Never mind. Do you suppose such a game as that will ever be forgotten? I'm going to tell these boys all about it some day, see if I don't."

Nathan wheeled around in his chair and glanced over the row of young faces before him. Then he leaned back in his chair and sighed.

"I'll bet you wouldn't mind a good game now, but you've no use for these boys and they haven't much for you. When's the next game, boys?" He turned to the row of faces.

"We've stopped playing baseball for this year," came in a chorus.

"Don't have football up here?"

"No, we haven't any team."

"Too bad. I might join you on that. Well, Mr. Keener, some of these days you and I will go to a game together; we'll get that fixed up. Which of you boys was it who so doughtily sped to the rescue of the young maiden?"

"Jim Tabor; it was his sister the old man was after," piped up the boys.

"All right, and mighty little respect I would have had for him, if he hadn't pitched in the way he did. Step up here, Jim."

Jim came forward, a little awkwardly, the other boys snickering. "Mr. Keener, this is Jim Taber. I want you to look at him and tell me if, when you were a boy of his size you had seen anyone threatening your sister with a stick, you wouldn't have pitched in and fought for her for all you were worth. You weren't any slouch in those days when it came to fighting, I know. That's all, Jim, no apologies necessary. Now, Mr. Keener, there is just one thing more. I don't believe these children are really bad, only mischievous as you used to be when you were a youngster. The girls, I know, are all ready to be friends, bless their dear little hearts. As for the boys, I'll venture to say we can patch up a treaty of peace with them. If you will promise to be a little less free with that stick and not get a grouch on you every time a boy looks your way, they will promise to play no more tricks. If they don't promise, I'll give every mother's son of them Hail Columbia when I come this way again," and by his looks, the boys knew he meant what he said. They were conscious that Ben was standing up for old Nathan, and yet that he meant to be perfectly fair to them. Ben looked up and down the line. "Well?" he said.

The boys looked at one another. "If he'll promise, we will," spoke up Jim Taber.

"It's a go," said Ben. "Now, Mr. Keener, it's up to you."

Old Nathan gave a grunt which might have meant anything, but Ben chose to interpret it his own way. "I think that is meant for assent," he said. "The gentleman seems to be speaking a foreign language to-day, Choctaw, I should say, or maybe Hindostanee. However, it is all right. Now, Mr. Keener, allow me, sir." He opened the door with a flourish and handed the old man his stick. Without a word, Nathan took the stick and went in, Ben bowing and scraping and saying, "Thank you for a very good time," then receiving no reply, not even a grunt, he added, "Not at all, the pleasure is entirely mine." The door closed and that was the end of it.

Edna came running up. "Oh, Ben," she said, "how glad I am to see you. Oh, wasn't it dreadful? How did you happen to come along?"

"Why, Pinky Blooms, I was on my way to grandpa's, thought I would come to take mother back to-morrow, and, as it was a fine afternoon, I concluded, to walk up from the station. Happened by just in the nick of time, didn't I? Funny old curmudgeon, isn't Nathan?"

"Oh, he is terrible," responded Edna, with a remembrance of the uplifted stick. "Are you going home with me?"

"No; you trot along with the rest of the brood; I am going to stay here a few minutes and have a chat with the boys; I'll be along directly."

So Edna left him, the boys crowding around and asking all sorts of questions. Ben was no new figure in the town, and most of them knew him at least by sight. Just what he said to the boys, Edna never knew, but it is a matter of comment that from that day on there were no more tricks played on old Nathan Keener, and though the big stick was not so much in evidence, it was a long time before any of the Elderflowers made any headway in winning even so much as a grunt from him. It was a great setback to the enthusiasm of the girls, but as Reliance told Esther Ann, she should not have tried so venturesome a thing at the very outset. "Mrs. Conway says we should have worked up to it gradually. It's just like training a wild animal, you have to win its confidence first." But Esther Ann declared she wanted no more of Nathan Keener, and Reliance was perfectly welcome to try any methods she liked so long as Esther Ann was not asked to share in the effort. It was a very exciting afternoon, taking it all in all, and was the means of bringing some ridicule and some censure upon the little club. One or two of the girls resigned, saying their mothers did not approve of such proceedings. All this, however, did not happen during Edna's Thanksgiving visit, but she heard of it afterward, and of further matters concerning the Elderflowers.



CHAPTER XI

FAREWELLS

Edna had not finished telling her mother about the afternoon's adventures when Ben came in. The family had gathered in the living-room, Edna sitting on her grandfather's knee, and the others ranged around the big fireplace. "There comes Ben now," Edna sang out, catching sight of her cousin's figure, and running to meet him.

"Halloo, young man," was grandpa's greeting. "I hear you have been having a set-to with Nathan Keener. It isn't the first time that he has had a fisticuffs with a member of this family. He and I used to be continually at it when we were boys together."

"Oh, but isn't he much older than you, grandpa?" said Edna, in surprise. "He looks like a very, very old man."

"And I don't? That's a nice compliment, missy. No, he and I are about of an age, and went to school together in the little, old, red schoolhouse that was burned down some years ago. It is ill health and trouble that makes him look so old, I suppose. Poor old chap, he has lost most of the friends who would have stood by him, for he has taken such an attitude it is impossible to be on good terms with him."

"Ben thinks he used to play baseball," spoke up Edna. "Did they play it so many, many years ago?"

Her grandfather laughed. "They certainly did, and he was tremendous at it. Let me see, forty, fifty years ago isn't so long, and I can well remember the time the Overlea boys beat the Boxtown boys, and it was all because of Nat Keener's good playing. The Boxtown fellows thought all they had to do was to walk in and win, but we gave them a big surprise that day. I remember how we cheered and, after the game was over, carried Nat around the village on our shoulders."

Ben smiled and nodded as if this event came within his recollection, too. Edna looked at him in surprise. "Why, Ben," she said, "you weren't there."

Ben laughed. "No, but I heard about it all years ago, and it came to my mind to-day when I was having it out with Nathan. I'll venture to say he is thinking more of those old times, at this very minute, than he is of his troubles."

"Poor old Nat," grandpa shook his head. "He was as high-spirited a young chap as ever lived, but uncontrolled and always fighting against the pricks. It must be pretty hard for him, pretty hard. He has grown so morose and snappish that no one takes the trouble to do more than nod to him nowadays. He wasn't a bad sort, too free and open-handed, too fond of pleasure, maybe."

"He doesn't have much chance to indulge himself there in these days," remarked grandma.

"False friends, a worthless wife and a bad son have about finished up what he had. With good money after bad all the time there is nothing left but that little tumbledown house he lives in."

"What does he live on?" asked Ben.

"Ask your grandpa," answered Mrs. Willis smiling across at her husband.

"Oh, pshaw!" exclaimed Mr. Willis, "nobody counts a load of wood or a bag of potatoes once in a while. I must stop and see if I can't draw him out of his shell some of these days."

"Talk to him about when you were boys, grandpa," said Ben; "that will fetch him."

Just here, Reliance came to the door to say that Ira would like to speak to Mr. Willis, and Mrs. Barker appropriated Ben, so Edna was left to her grandmother and her mother.

"So we are going to lose our little girl to-morrow," grandma began.

"You won't be left without any little girl," replied Edna cheerfully, "for you will have Reliance."

"But that isn't the same thing as having my own little granddaughter," responded Mrs. Willis.

"No," returned Edna. "When are we coming here again, mother?"

"Why, my dear, I don't know. We have made grandma a good, long visit this time."

"It isn't what I call a long visit," grandma observed. "When I was a child I spent months at a time at my grandparents."

"I spent months at Uncle Justus', but then I was there at school," remarked Edna. "I don't see why I couldn't come here on holidays, mother."

"You can do that sometimes, surely. We have promised you to Uncle Bert for the Christmas holidays, but maybe you could come at Easter, if grandma would like to have you."

"Grandma would like very much to have her," said that lady.

"Even if I came without mother?" questioned Edna.

"Even if you came by your own little self. We shall claim her for the Easter holidays, daughter, and you must let nothing prevent her coming. If it is not convenient for any of the rest of you to come, just put her on the train upon which Marcus Brown is conductor and he will see that she gets off safely at Mayville."

Edna looked a little doubtful at the idea of making the journey by herself but she did not say anything.

"However," grandma went on, "I don't see why Celia couldn't come with her, or perhaps Ben could."

"Well, we shall see," responded Mrs. Conway. "Well try to get her here in some way."

"Then we shall consider that quite settled," said grandma with a satisfied air.

"I've had an awfully good time," said Edna thoughtfully.

"Even though you have been sick abed, and have had all sorts of unpleasant adventures?" said grandma with a smile.

"I wasn't so very sick," returned Edna, "and I wouldn't have minded that except for the mustard bath."

Her grandmother laughed. "Well hope that you won't need one the next time."

"I didn't mind the adventures very much, either, and now that they are all over, I am awfully glad that I will have something so interesting to tell the girls at home. I think a great deal has happened in the time I have been here, don't you, grandma?"

"From the standpoint of a little girl I suppose that is true, though it hasn't seemed such a very exciting time to the rest of us. This is a quiet old village and we jog along pretty much the same way year in and year out, without very many changes."

"I think it is just lovely here," replied Edna, "and I like all the girls, too. I shall be glad to see them again. I sort of remembered some of them, but you know I haven't been here before for ever so many years, and I had forgotten lots of things, even about the house and the place."

"Then don't stay away so long as to forget anything again," her grandmother charged her.

"I'm forgetting that this is the last chance I will have to help Reliance set the table," said Edna, jumping up.

She found Reliance had already begun this task and that Amanda was making some specially good tea-cakes in honor of this last evening. She was in a good humor and did not object, as she did sometimes, to Edna's being in the kitchen while supper was being prepared. "Just think," remarked Edna, as she leaned her elbows on the table to watch Amanda, "where I shall be to-morrow evening at this time."

"And are you sorry?" asked Amanda.

"No, not exactly. I am glad and sorry both. I should love to stay and yet I want to see them all at home."

"That's perfectly natural," Amanda returned, pricking the tea-cakes daintily.

"What do you have to do that for?" asked the little girl.

"To keep 'em from blistering," Amanda told her. "There, open the oven door, Reliance, and then bring me that bowl of cottage cheese from the pantry. I didn't know as it would be warm enough to allow of us having any more this week, but you see it was."

"I just love cottage cheese," Edna made the remark, as she watched Amanda pour in the yellow cream and stir it into the cheese. "I wish we kept a cow, so we could have all the milky things you have here."

"Ain't your place big enough for one?" inquired Amanda, in rather a surprised tone.

"No; it isn't just country, you know. Mrs. McDonald has a big place, and the Evanses have a nice garden and a grove of trees. We have some trees and some garden, and we have a stable, but we haven't any pasture for cows."

"You might pasture her out," Amanda suggested, scraping the contents of the bowl into a glass dish. "Here, Reliance, take that in and set it on the table, and then go after your milk and butter. The dark will catch you if you don't hurry."

"I'm going, too," announced Edna. "I can carry the butter, but I won't bring the key." The two little girls laughed, for this was a standing joke between them.

They started out through the rustling leaves to the spring-house; the leaves gave forth a queer, though pleasant odor, as they pushed their feet through them. A big star blazed out against the pale rose of an evening sky. Over in the cornfields, crows were calling, and a few crickets, not yet driven to cover by the frost, chirped in the grass. The cows were standing in the stable yard. They had been milked, and Ira had brought the pails to the spring-house before this. The little white kitten which Edna had made a great pet of, followed her down the walk, frisking away after a falling leaf, or dancing sideways in pretended fear of its own tail. Edna picked it up but it had no desire to stay when this, of all hours in the day, was the best to play in, so it scrambled down from her arms and was off like a flash, darting half way up a tree, with ears back and claws outspread.

"I do hate to leave the kitten," said Edna. "I hope it won't miss me too much. You will try to give it a little attention, even though you love the grey one best, won't you, Reliance?"

Reliance promised, and leaving the kitten to its own wild antics they went into the spring-house, issuing forth with the various things they had gone for. "Just think," sighed Reliance, "this is the very last time you will help me bring up the things. I shall miss you awfully, Edna. You have been so good to me."

"Why, no, I haven't," answered she; "you have been good to me. I'm coming back at Easter, Reliance, and it will be so nice, for I shall have so many questions to ask about the girls and the club and all that."

"Are you really coming at Easter? I didn't know that."

"Yes, mother just now promised grandma I should."

"Goody! Goody! I must tell the girls when I see them."

The girls, however, found out before Reliance saw them, for knowing that Edna was to leave in the morning, they gave her a surprise that very evening. Supper was hardly over before Reliance, trying very hard to smother laughter, had a whispered consultation with Mrs. Willis, who, after it was over, came back to her place by the fire. In a few minutes she said, "Edna, dear, I wish you would go up to my room and see if you can find my other pair of glasses. Look on the bureau and the table in my room, and, if you don't find them there, look in the other rooms."

Very obediently Edna trotted off upstairs, searched high and low, looked in this room and that, but no glasses were to be found. After much hunting, she came down without them. She stepped slowly down the stair, humming softly to herself. It was very quiet in the living-room, or did she hear whispers, and subdued titters? Was Reliance or maybe Ben going to play a trick on her? She heard a sudden "Hush! Hush!" as she reached the door of the living-room, but she made up her mind that she would appear perfectly unconcerned, and entered the room in a very don't-care sort of manner. "I couldn't find——" she began and then stopped short, for there, ranged around the room, were twelve little girls all smiling to see the look of surprise on her face. So that was what the trick was.

"We're a surprise party," spoke up Esther Ann.

"And we're a good-by party, too," added Reba.

"We've all brought you something," Alcinda spoke.

"We are going to stay an hour," Letty added.

Here Esther Ann darted forward with a bag of nuts which she plumped down in Edna's lap. "There," she said, "you must take those along with you."

Next, Reba presented a neat little book. It looked very religious, Edna thought, but the cover was pretty and there was an attractive picture in it.

Alcinda came next with a very ornate vase which Edna remembered seeing on the glass case in Mr. Hewlett's store.

Letty brought the figure of a cunning cat playing with a ball; this Edna liked very much. Some brought candy, some brought cakes, one brought a paper doll, another a little cup and saucer, but each one had something to contribute till Edna exclaimed: "Why, it is just like a birthday, and these are lovely presents."

"Oh, they're nothing but some little souvenirs," remarked Esther Ann loftily. "We wanted you to have them to remember us by."

"I shall never forget you, never," said Edna earnestly, "and I thank you ever and ever so much." She gathered up her booty and piled it on the table, then some one proposed a game, and they amused themselves till grandma sent out for nuts, cider, apples and cakes, which feast ended the entertainment, though it is safe to say it lasted more than an hour. At the last, the girls all crowded around Edna to kiss her good-night and to make their farewells, and then, like a flock of birds, they all took flight, scurrying home by the light of their lanterns, some across the street, some down, some up.

As the sound of the last merry voice died away, Edna threw herself into her grandmother's arms. "Oh, grandma," she cried, "wasn't it a lovely surprise? Did you know about it?"

"Not so very long before. Reliance came and told me what the girls wanted to do, and I promised to help in any way that I could."

"And was that why you sent me up for the glasses? I didn't tell you after all that I couldn't find them."

"I didn't expect you to," said her grandmother, laughing. "I only told you to go see if you could find them so as to get you out of the way and keep you occupied long enough to allow the girls to come in."

"I didn't hear the front door shut."

"No, for they came around by way of the side door, and tip-toed in by way of the dining-room."

"Well, it was lovely," sighed Edna in full content.

Although the real farewells had been said on that evening, that was not quite the last of it, for the girls were gathered in a body by the church the next morning when Edna drove by on her way to the train. She was squeezed in the back seat of the carriage between her mother and her Aunt Alice. Ben was on the front seat with his grandfather. Reliance at the gate was waving a tearful farewell, a white kitten under one arm and a grey one under the other. Grandma herself stood in the doorway. "Good-by! Good-by!" sounded fainter and fainter from Reliance, but the word was taken up by the girls who shouted a perfect chorus of good-bys as the black horses trotted nimbly along and bore Edna out of sight.



CHAPTER XII

HOW ARE YOU?

In what seemed an incredibly short time, Edna was getting out at the station nearest her own home. Ben and his mother had parted from them an hour before and were now on their way to their own home. Ben, however, would return on Monday to take up his college work again.

"There they are!" were the first words Edna heard as she and her mother descended from the train. And then the boys rushed forward to hug and kiss both herself and her mother and to make as much fuss over them as if they had been gone a year.

"Gee! but I'm glad to see you," cried Charlie. "It hasn't seemed like home at all without you, mother."

"Didn't you have a good time at Mrs. Porter's?" asked Edna.

"Had a high old time," responded Frank. "Here, let me take some of those things. You look like country travellers with all those bundles. What you got there?"

"Oh, things," returned Edna vaguely. "All sorts of things the girls gave me to bring home."

"You look like a regular old emigrant with so many boxes and bags."

"We couldn't get them all in the trunk," Edna explained, "and so we had to bring them this way. When did you get back, Frank?"

"Last night. We came home with father."

"Then you haven't had such a very long time in which to miss us," said Mrs. Conway, with a smile.

"Well, it seemed like a long time," returned Frank, "Nothing ever does go right when you're away, mother."

"What special thing has gone wrong this time?" asked his mother.

"Oh, I couldn't find anything I wanted this morning, and nobody knew where anything was, and Celia didn't know how to fix anything, and all that."

Mrs. Conway laughed. "That shows how I spoil you all. I am afraid I missed my boys, too, and am glad to get back to them."

"Where's Celia?" asked Edna.

"She's home. We all came up together last night. Lizzie had waffles for supper, and Frank ate ten pieces," spoke up Charlie.

"Well, that was all I could get," said Frank, in an injured way. "Lizzie said there were no more."

"Oh, Frank, Frank," laughed his mother. "Well, at any rate, I am glad to know my absence has not affected your appetite."

"Tell us what you did at the Porter's," said Edna.

"Oh, we just racketed around. We went to a fierce old football game, and we did all sorts of stunts in the house. Steve and Roger have a fine little workshop. I don't believe I like living right in the city, though. We boys have a heap more fun at a place like this where we can get out-of-doors. Roger and Steve say so, too."

"I am glad you are so well content," observed Mrs. Conway.

"There's Celia," Edna sang out, seeing some one on the porch watching for them. It was a chill, wintry morning, and they were all glad to hurry indoors to the warm fire. The house looked cozy and cheerful, yellow chrysanthemums in tall vases graced the hall and library; in the latter, an open grate fire glowed, and Edna looked around complacently. "It is kind of nice to get home," she remarked. "I love it at grandma's, but I reckon we all like our own home better than other people's. How are you, Celia? Tell me everything that has been going on at school. How is Dorothy? Did you have a club-meeting and was it a nice one? Oh, I must tell you about the Elderflowers, mustn't I, mother? Has Agnes gone back to college? Have you seen Miss Eloise?"

"Dear me," cried Celia, "what a lot of questions. I wonder if I can answer them all. Let me see. I'll have to go backwards, I think. I haven't seen Miss Eloise, but some of the girls have. She and her sister dined at the Ramseys on Thanksgiving Day."

"I know they had a good dinner, then," remarked Edna, "for I was there myself last Thanksgiving."

"Agnes has gone back to college. Dorothy is well. We had a nice club-meeting, and I missed my little sister's dear, round, little face. Dorothy has been so impatient that she can hardly wait to see you. She has been calling me up at intervals all morning to know if you had come yet. There is the telephone now. No doubt it is Dorothy calling."

Edna flew to the 'phone and Celia heard. "Yes, this is Edna. Oh, hello, Dorothy. I'm well, how are you? I don't know; I'll see. Oh, no, you come over here; that will be much nicer. I have some things to show you. What's that? Yes, indeed, I am glad to get back." Then a little tinkle of laughter. "You are a goosey goose; I'm not going to tell you. Come over. Yes, right away if you want to, Dorothy."

She went back to her sister, and established herself in her lap, putting one arm around her neck and stretching out her feet to the warmth of the fire. "It was Dorothy," she said.

"That was quite evident, my dear," returned Celia. "What was it you wouldn't tell her?"

"Oh, Dorothy is such a goose. She was afraid I had gotten to like some of the Overlea girls better than I do her. Just because I wrote to her about Reliance and Alcinda and all of them. Just as if I couldn't like more than one girl. Don't you think it is silly, sister, for anyone to want you to have no other friend, I mean no other best friend? Of course I love Dorothy dearly, but I love Jennie, too, and I am very fond of Netty Black, and, oh, lots of girls. Are you that way about Agnes, Celia?"

Celia felt a pang of self-reproach, for it must be admitted that she had felt a little jealous of the new friends Agnes was making at college. "I don't suppose I should be?" she answered after a pause. "I suppose it is very selfish and unfair to feel that way about it. Mother says it is very conceited of a person to think she can satisfy every need of a friend, and that it shows only love of self, and not love of your friend, when you want to exclude others from her friendship, and I am sure I don't want to be either selfish or conceited, and I should hate to be called a jealous person."

"Do you think Dorothy is conceited and selfish?"

"I don't think she means to be, but when she wants to deprive you of good times with other girls, or is jealous of your friendship for them, she is encouraging conceit and selfishness. I'm glad you asked me about the way I feel toward Agnes, for it makes me see that I am by no means the true friend I ought to be. If I loved her as I should, I'd want her to have all the good times, all the love, all the benefit she could get from others, and I mean to fight against any other feeling but the right one. I don't believe my little sister will be the jealous kind," she said hugging Edna up.

"If you see me getting that way, I hope you won't let me," returned Edna earnestly.

"There's Dorothy now," said Celia, putting down the plump little figure from her lap. And Edna ran out to greet her friend.

There was so much to talk about, so many things to show, that Dorothy must needs stay to lunch. A little later, over came Margaret McDonald to say "How do you do" and to bring some flowers from her mother's greenhouse. Edna's tongue ran so fast and she had so much to tell that the afternoon seemed all too short. Dorothy and Margaret, too, had their own affairs to talk about, and it was dark before the two little visitors were ready to go.

The next excitement was the coming of her father, for whom Dorothy watched and who appeared almost gladder than anyone that his wife and little girl were at home again. "This is something like," he said as he came in, his face wreathed in smiles.

"You poor dear," said Edna, in a motherly way, "it has been a lonely time for you, hasn't it?"

"Pretty lonely, but then it teaches me how to appreciate my family when they get back. My, my, my, what a difference it does make, to be sure. I don't think I can stand you all skylarking off again very soon."

THE END