"When I first came here," resumed Miss Castlevaine, "my cousin was dreadfully upset because they wouldn't call me to the telephone to talk with her. Finally she said so much they gave in, and I went down. I supposed it was the regular thing until she told me about it afterwards. She had to ask me two or three questions about something, and get my answers to know what to do."

"There should be a telephone in every room, as there is in a hotel," asserted Miss Major.

"Oh, my!" ejaculated Miss Crilly. "When you get it, send me word! Probably I shan't be here by that time, but I guess I shall be hoverin' somewhere round, and I'll know when your 'phone's in!"

"To have one in each room would be a great deal of expense," said Mrs. Crump.

"What of it!" retorted Miss Major. "Haven't they money enough? They're always building additions—now the one that's going to spoil Miss Sterling's room and Miss Twining's down below. They'd a good deal better spend it on telephones."

"They've got a new rug down in the hall," announced Miss Castlevaine. "'Most anybody could have new rugs if they stole the money to buy them with!"

"What do you mean?" was Miss Crilly's quick query.

"You'd better not say anything about it; but I heard that Miss Twining wrote a poem for a Sunday-School paper and got eight dollars for it—"

"My!" put in Miss Crilly.

"And," went on Miss Castlevaine, "she bought a new shirt waist. When she wore it Mrs. Nobbs asked her where she got it. Like a simpleton, she told the whole story, so pleased to have earned the money, and never dreaming but that it was her own! What did they do but make her give up the seven dollars she had left! They did let her keep the waist—she needed it badly enough." Miss Castlevaine shook her head, while comments flew fast.

"I'm sorry for Miss Twining," sympathized Miss Crilly. "She's the kind that won't sputter it all out, as I should; she'll cry herself sick over it!"

"If we cried for all the hard things we have here," said Mrs. Crump, "we shouldn't have any eyes left!"

"I wonder if the directors know how things are going," observed Miss Major.

"I bet they ain't on to it!" Miss Crilly wagged her head decisively.

"But who'd dare tell 'em?" queried Mrs. Crump.

"Excuse me!" giggled Miss Crilly.



CHAPTER XI

"SO MYSTERIOUS"

"Are you busy?" asked Miss Leatherland at the threshold of Miss Sterling's room.

"No, indeed! I was wondering whether I'd go out on the veranda or sit here and mull. I'm glad you've come. Take this chair—it's the easiest."

"Then I'll leave it for you." She started toward another.

"No, I don't like it!" Her hostess laughingly pushed her back. "I'm too short for that one. I'm always wishing I were as tall as you."

Miss Leatherland blushed at the little compliment and smiled over it.

"I don't know but I'm meddling in what is none of my business," she began shyly. "At first I thought I wouldn't say anything; then I decided I would do as I'd wish to be done by. I certainly should want to know anything of this kind—though perhaps you know already."

"What is it? Nothing dreadful, I hope."

"Oh, no! Only it shows—unless she has told you—how things are going downstairs."

She hesitated, as if not knowing just how to say what she had come to tell.

"You were home about four o'clock yesterday, weren't you?"

"Yes."

"I met all of you down in the hall, you remember, and I thought it was along there. Have you heard anything about a telephone message that came for you while you were away?"

"No—was there one?"

Miss Leatherland bowed her head and drew her chair nearer.

"This afternoon I went up to call on Mrs. Macgregor, and yesterday, it seems, she had business with Mr. Potter, of the Fair Harbor Paper Company, and was in his office waiting for him to come in. It was about three o'clock, she said. Mr. Potter's office is next to the president's, and the door was just ajar. Mrs. Macgregor has very sharp ears, and she happened to be sitting close to the door, so couldn't help hearing. She says Mr. Randolph called up the Home—she knew the number, she uses it so much—and asked for Miss Sterling. I suppose they told him you were out, for he said he was sorry and inquired if they knew when you were coming home. Evidently whoever was at the 'phone didn't tell, for he said if you should come in by half-past four to ask you to call him up. Probably she offered to deliver his message, for he said no, he'd like to talk with you, and then he rang off. Mrs. Macgregor asked if Mr. Randolph was a relative of yours, and I said I thought not."

Miss Sterling shook her head.

"I don't see why Miss Sniffen or Mrs. Nobbs, or whoever 't was didn't do as Mr. Randolph asked them to—I don't see why! It's getting so we can't tell anything!" Miss Leatherland looked distressed.

"Things are growing queer," was the quiet response. "I don't know what Mr. Randolph could have wanted, but I surely have a right to be informed about it."

"If you should ask Miss Sniffen, please don't say anything about me, she might think I'd interfered. I only thought you ought to know it."

"I'm mighty glad you told me," Miss Sterling smiled across into the perturbed face, "and I shall certainly not speak of the matter to Miss Sniffen or any of them."

"I guess you are wise not to," agreed Miss Leatherland. "Anybody that would do things she has done, you don't know what she'd do!"

Polly heard of the little episode with mingled dismay and delight.

"Oh, I wonder if he wanted you to go to ride!" she burst out. "Only you won't ever know! Dear me, I wish we had waited till the next day for our walk! Isn't it too bad you weren't home?"

"We had a nice time!" laughed Miss Sterling.

"Didn't we! But it's a shame for you to miss a ride with that lovable man!"

"Polly, why will you? He didn't say anything about a ride! Probably it was simply some little business matter."

"But what?"

"I haven't the least idea."

"'T was a ride! I know it just as I knew he sent the roses! I was right about the roses!"

"Rides and roses aren't the same!"

"No, rides are better—more good-timey. Dear, dear! I'd been wishing he would ask you—and now!" Polly sighed. "Anyway, he wanted to talk with you about something!" she chuckled. "But it's so mysterious!"

She said good-bye and then came back.

"I happened to think," she whispered, "why can't you come over to our house and telephone to him? He'll never know where you are."

Miss Sterling shook her head. "It wouldn't do! They'd ask me what I was going for—and I couldn't tell!"

"Do they always ask that?" scowled Polly.

"Always!"

"Then let me telephone!"

"No, no! We'd better leave it to work itself out. I am not supposed to know anything about it." She laughed uncertainly.

"It's a shame! Oh, everything about him always gets mixed up with trouble! I wish it didn't!"

Juanita Sterling made the same wish as she sat alone in the hour before bedtime. What could Nelson Randolph have wanted of her? And why did Miss Sniffen and her subordinates strive so strenuously to keep her from communicating with him or knowing of any attention that he paid her? She wrestled with the hard question until the bell for "lights out." Then she noiselessly undressed in the dark.

Sleep was long in coming, yet her nerves did not assert themselves unpleasantly, as usual. In fact, she had forgotten her nerves, in the strange, vague gladness that was half pain which flooded her being. She would berate herself for being "an old fool," though conscious at the same time of little, warming heart-thrills that exulted over her reason. As Polly had said, the president of the June Holiday Home had wished to talk with her about something—that of itself was as surprising as it was mysterious.



CHAPTER XII

MRS. DICK ESCAPES

Juanita Sterling was making her bed when the soft tap came.

"What shall I do?" Miss Crilly whispered tragically, slipping inside and shutting the door without a sound. Her eyes were big and frightened. "I've kept out of Mis' Nobbs's reach thus far, but I s'pose I can't very long! They are lookin' everywhere for Mis' Dick—you know she wasn't down to breakfast, and I'd no idea she'd come—all the while the rest o' you were lookin' for her. At half-past five this mornin' I see her go away with the milkman! I happened to be at my window. I couldn't sleep, 't was so hot, and I sat down there to get a breath o' air. He come along and sent in the boy with the milk, same as he gen'ally does—I see him lots of times. But wasn't I astonished when Mis' Dick come marchin' out, all dressed up in her Sunday togs, and got in and rode off with him! She had her big suitcase—it must ha' been all cut an' dried beforehand! What do you s'pose it means? I'm scart to death! I do' want to squeal on Mis' Dick—I always liked Mis' Dick! An' if they ask me, I can't lie it out! Oh, what would you do?" Miss Crilly came near being distressed.

"Why," answered Miss Sterling, "I think I should keep still unless I were asked. In that case I should tell all I knew."

"Oh, dear, I hate to squeal!"

"Maybe you won't have to. I hope not!"

"What do you s'pose she went off with Mr. Tenney for?"

Miss Sterling shook her head.

"He's a widower! You don't s'pose—?" Miss Crilly giggled.

The other shrugged her shoulders.

"Well, anyway, there'll be a row till she's found! Gracious! I was so upset I couldn't eat much breakfast! I told Mis' Albright finally—I couldn't keep it a minute longer. Then I came up here. You don't s'pose she's gone luny, do you? She was so upset about goin' to that weddin'!"

"No, it isn't that!" decided Miss Sterling. "Mrs. Dick is not the kind to go crazy."

"Somebody's comin'!" Miss Crilly darted to the closet and shut herself in.

Mrs. Albright and Mrs. Adlerfield appeared.

"I thought Miss Crilly was here." Mrs. Albright looked about in surprise.

Miss Sterling nodded significantly toward the closet.

Mrs. Albright opened the door, and laughed,

"Come into daylight, you silly! Nobody's going to eat you up! They've found out!"

"They have? How?"

"One of the maids saw Mrs. Dick go by the window, and she ran to see where she was going; but she didn't dare tell at first. Finally, she did, and they're going to send out to Mr. Tenney's."

"My! I'm glad I ain't in Mis' Dick's shoes!" Miss Crilly emerged from the folds of Miss Sterling's petticoats. She brushed back her disordered hair and drew a long, laughing sigh. "Isn't it lovely they've found out! I b'lieve I'd have been luny myself in a little while if they hadn't!"

"Nonsense!" pooh-poohed Mrs. Albright. "You couldn't stay luny more'n half a twinkle! You'd have to come out of it to laugh!"

"Sure, I would!" Miss Crilly agreed. "My! How do folks live that don't laugh!"

"You are in no danger of dying from that disease," returned Mrs. Albright.

"No, I guess I ain't. My mother used to say that she believed if I had to live with the Devil himself, I'd keep on laughing."

The quartette settled down to calm, now that the danger was over, but the talk still ran on Mrs. Dick.

"She's been married twice before, hasn't she?" asked Miss Crilly.

"Before what?" chuckled Mrs. Albright.

"O-h! Did I? That's one on me, sure! Well, maybe it is 'before'—who knows! What else could she be goin' off at half-past five with the milkman for? Might not be a bad thing either—guess he's all right. 'Most anything 'd be better 'n bein' under Miss Sniffen and her crowd!"

"Where did Mrs. Dick live before she came here? Did you know her?" Mrs. Albright inquired.

"I knew of her." Miss Crilly answered. "She kep' boarders over Kelly Avenue way. She used to teach school years ago. Her first husband died and all her children, then she took boarders and married one of 'em.—this Mr. Dick. He didn't live long—only long enough to run through what she'd saved up. He drank. She's worked hard all her life, I guess. I like Mis' Dick! She's good company."

"I like her very," agreed Mrs. Adlerfeld. "She has been nice to me a many times. If she goes to marry, I think it will no harm anybody, and I wish her the best things in the world."

The little Swedish woman voiced the larger number of Mrs. Dick's associates in the Home. Slighting remarks were heard from Miss Castlevaine and a few others, but in almost any case they were to be expected.

On the second day of Mrs. Dick's absence Miss Crilly appeared in Mrs. Bonnyman's room, where some half-dozen of the ladies were chatting.

"She is married!" she announced in a stage whisper,—"married to the milkman—oh! oh! oh!" Miss Crilly sat down in the midst of eager questioning.

"They say she wrote a note to Miss Sniffen yesterday, but I didn't get my news from her—no, sir-ee! It came pretty straight, though,—I guess it's so all right."

"What'd you say, Mis' Albright? Yes, she was married day before yesterday—went to the minister's! She told somebody she just couldn't stand it here another minute."

"I wonder if she's ever seen him much," said Miss Major.

"My, yes! She's known him for years—used to be her milkman when she kept house! He isn't any stranger! Oh, don't I wish I could see her!"

"Maybe she will come over and call on us," observed Mrs. Prindle.

"If she dares," spoke up Mrs. Bonnyman.

"Well, I'm glad for her!" declared Miss Crilly. "Wouldn't it feel good to be cut loose from rules! Dear me! We're so tied up it seems, sometimes's if I must scream!"

"I don't think people outside know how things go here," put in Miss Mullaly. "Why, everybody congratulated me on getting in! I thought I was going to have the time of my life!" She laughed deprecatingly.

"It is the time of our lives—the worst time!" snapped Miss Major.

"Well folks can get along some way," said Miss Sterling; "but Heaven save the sick ones!"



CHAPTER XIII

ALONG A BROOKSIDE ROAD

"Oh, here you are!" cried Polly from the doorway, just beyond Mrs. Bonnyman.

"Been looking for me?" Miss Sterling smiled,

"Everywhere!" Polly dropped beside her friend. "No, Mrs. Bonnyman, don't get a chair for me! I like this! Besides, I'm not going to stay. It's too lovely outside to be cooped up in the house. Why can't we all go to walk?"

"Oh, that's the ticket!" Miss Crilly jumped up. "I'll have to change my togs first—will you wait for me?"

Polly nodded and smiled, as Miss Crilly skipped off.

"Will you all go?"

Miss Sterling rose.

"You will, Miss Nita?" Polly clung to her hand.

"Yes, but not with this dress on."

"I bid many thanks to you," said Mrs. Adlerfeld quaintly; "I shall like to go very." Having made sure of the others, Polly ran off to make her invitation general, stopping at various doors on her way downstairs.

"Shall we go two by two, like a boarding-school?" giggled Miss Crilly, as the little party left the Home grounds.

"Let's go any old way!" Then, glancing beyond Miss Crilly, Polly gave a glad cry,—"David and Leonora!" and flew to meet the two who were just at the hospital entrance.

"Will you come to walk with us?" she invited, "Or I'll stay if you'd rather."

They declared that they would much prefer the walk, and Polly was soon making the introductions where they were needed. Many of the ladies were well acquainted with Polly's friends.

David at once appropriated his old-time chum, and Leonora skipped over to Miss Sterling.

"Ther' 's so many of us we ought to march abreast, clear across the street, as they do in processions!" Miss Crilly was in high spirits..

The road Polly had chosen led through an avenue of old elms and thence out into the wide country. Past the city milepost, not far distant from the Home, a little brook purled along, overswept by willows.

"Isn't this beautiful!" cried Miss Major. "And here are raspberries—oh!"

The party broke ranks and scattered among the bushes, eager for the fruit that was just in its prime.

"Do you suppose they belong to anybody?" queried Mrs. Prindle, a bit anxiously.

"If they do they don't love 'em a whole lot," Miss Crilly returned. "See those! They are so ripe they almost fall to pieces lookin' at 'em! But they're sweet as sugar!" She plumped them into her mouth.

Soon they strolled forward by two's and three's, but long before the young folks and a few others had begun to be tired, several were lagging behind. Miss Twining among them.

"Are you coming back this way, Polly?" she called.

"Why, I thought we wouldn't. What's the matter?"

"Used up," she smiled.

"Oh, I'm so sorry! I've gone too far, haven't I? You sit down somewhere and rest, and I'll stay with you. The others can go on, if they like."

"Guess I'll wait, too." Miss Sterling dropped wearily to the grass.

Mrs. Adlerfeld, Miss Lily, Mrs. Albright, and Miss Castlevaine lined themselves beside her.

"I don't know what possessed me to come on such a long walk!" fretted Miss Castlevaine.

"Why, I never thought that anybody could be tired!" said Polly contritely. "Why didn't you speak sooner?"

"Oh, we'll be all right by the time you get back!" laughed Mrs. Albright. "Now run along, every one of you! Shoo! Shoo!" She waved her skirts toward them.

It took a good deal of urging, however, to induce Polly to leave Miss Sterling. Finally she ran off with David, calling back that she wouldn't be gone long.

The afternoon slipped away, and the air grew cooler. The exhausted ones gathered strength and now and then rambled about a little, wondering why the others did not return. They watched longingly the point of road where the party had disappeared, even Miss Lily peered vainly into the empty distance.

Miss Castlevaine looked at her watch for the twentieth time. "It is a quarter past five!" she frowned. "Where can they be!"

"We may as well sit down while we wait," laughed Mrs. Albright. "Wandering round in a circle won't bring them any quicker." She lowered herself plumply beside Miss Sterling.

"Now don't you go to worrying!" she said. "They haven't been eaten up by bears or carried off by hawks. Probably they are having so good a time they have forgotten to come back."

The sun dropped lower and lower. The wayside shadows thickened. A robin on the top-most branch of a locust sang a solo.

"There they are!" cried Miss Castlevaine.

The others looked eagerly down the road.

The thud of hoofs came out of the hush.

"Oh, it's only a team!" was the disappointed contradiction. "I saw the dust and thought they were coming."

The buggy whirled up, the driver lifted his hat with a smiling bow—and was gone.

"Mr. Randolph and Miss Puddicombe!" commented Miss Castlevaine. "Who was he bowing to? Not me!"

"I have met him," responded Mrs. Albright.

"Oh! Maybe it was you, then. But he was looking at Miss Sterling!"

"She knows him, too, and so does Mrs. Adlerfeld."

"Oh!" repeated Miss Castlevaine. "I see him riding with that Miss Puddicombe a good deal lately. Guess she's trying to catch him."

"They are coming now for certain!" exclaimed Mrs. Albright.

Away in the distance the returning party could be discerned. Soon there was a waving of eager hands. The forward ones started on a race.

"It's Miss Crilly and the children!" Mrs. Albright laughed. "Isn't she game!"

Polly and David were ahead.

"Are you tired out waiting?" called Polly.

"Have you been to Buckline?" twinkled Mrs. Albright.

"Almost!" answered David.

"We've had such a time!" laughed Polly.

"Time!" burst in Miss Crilly. "We'd been goners, sure, if we hadn't jumped like fleas! My! You oughter seen Miss Mullaly—if she didn't go hand-springin' over that wall!"

"But what was it?" cried Mrs. Albright.

"A cow!"—"An ugly old cow!"—"She went bellowin' like Sancho Panza set loose!"

"Did she chase you? What did you do?"

"She was coming for us, and we jumped over the wall! We were on our way home," explained Polly.

"And David wanted to go and drive her off, so we could get by," put in Leonora; "but I held on to him!"

"I could have done it as well as that man," insisted David, looking somewhat disgusted at the lack of faith in his ability.

"He 'most got away from us!" laughed Miss Crilly. "We all had to grab him!"

"Did the cow's owner come?" Miss Castlevaine queried.

"We don't know who it was," answered Polly. "We were hiding behind some bushes the other side of the wall."

"Such a combobbery as that cow cut up! My! I thought she'd knock the man into slivers!" said Miss Crilly.

"But she didn't!" observed David.

"No," said Polly, "he drove her off finally."

"And we beat it!" giggled Miss Crilly.

"We thought you would wonder what had become of us," smiled Leonora.

"We did," agreed Mrs. Albright, "and somebody else will be wondering that same thing, if we don't march home about as fast as we can!"

Polly's cool and charming sweetness was all that saved the party from Miss Sniffen's very apparent displeasure, the tardy ones agreed. Supper had been served at least five minutes before they filed into the dining-room; but their astonishing appetites, which gave a relish even to soggy corncake and watery tea, almost counterbalanced any fears for their future walks with Polly.

Juanita Sterling sat down wearily in her own room. "I wish I had stayed at home!" she sighed.



CHAPTER XIV

POLLY PLANS

"Father," Polly began thoughtfully, "I've been thinking—you remember I told you about our walk the other day and how tired Miss Nita and some of the other ladies were before I even thought of such a thing—" Polly stopped questioningly.

"I remember," smiled Dr. Dudley.

"So don't you think it would be nice—until they grow stronger, you know—for them to ride instead of walk?"

"Very nice, indeed. Do you want me to take them?"

"I wish you could," laughed Polly, "but I know you don't have time. I happened to think, though, why couldn't we have the car some morning, while you are busy in the hospital? Evan could drive for us."

"A very good plan," the Doctor nodded musingly. "You wish to go with them, I take it."

"Yes, I think I'd better. I know, one more could go if I didn't; but I guess they'd be more lively with me along than if they went with just Evan."

"If I were going I should certainly want you, too," twinkled the doctor.

"Oh, dear! We don't have as many good rides together as we used to, do we?" Polly bent down from the arm of Dr. Dudley's chair where she was sitting and cuddled her cheek against his.

"No," he replied, "we'll have to borrow an hour some day and run away."

"Wouldn't that be fun! Oh, let's!"

"I think we'll do it, then I can get re-acquainted with you."

Polly chuckled. "As if you didn't know me clear through, from head-top to toe-tip!"

"I feel quite like a stranger lately. I come in here and ask, 'Where's Polly?' and your mother says, 'She is over at the Home,' or, 'She's gone to walk with Miss Sterling.' When I see Miss Sterling I shall tell her what I think of it."

"You might tell me," suggested Polly demurely, "and then I can repeat it to Miss Nita."

"I prefer to say my say to her," the Doctor replied with no hint of a smile. "You might not say it strong enough."

A wee chuckle escaped Polly. "What are you going to tell her?" she coaxed.

"That she can't have my girl so much without paying for her."

"Oh," laughed Polly. "Miss Nita doesn't have any money."

"It would be of no use in this case. Do you suppose you can be paid for in money?"

"Oh, you dearest, funniest man! I wish you could see Miss Nita more—you wouldn't wonder I like to go there. She is so lovable."

"I do not doubt it. How is she now—better?"

"Ever so much better! She doesn't say anything lately about wanting to die. I wish she had nice things to eat—I don't see how she stands sour bread and so much corned beef and mackerel and sausages."

Doctor Dudley shook his head musingly. "It is too bad—a magnificent building, and wretched household management."

"I wonder why they keep Miss Sniffen," Polly said.

"Probably she is agreeable to the trustees, and nobody calls their attention to anything wrong."

"Yes, I've seen her—when some of the officers came. She is as smiley as a goose! I hate her smile; it looks as if she didn't mean it."

"She is evidently not the woman for the place. I am sorry." The Doctor glanced at his watch and rose abruptly.

"Got to go?"

"I ought to have gone earlier."

"Oh, dear! I wish other folks didn't need you all the time!" mourned Polly.

He stepped back and kissed her. "That is the penalty of more money," he smiled.

"More fame, you mean!" she retorted and heard a little chuckle as he passed out the door.

Polly did not plan long without acting, and within an hour she was on her long walk to Colonel Gresham's, to talk over her scheme with Leonora and David.

She found Mrs. Gresham just starting to meet a train.

"I'm so sorry I can't stay," she told Polly, "and Leonora and David are not at home! But the Colonel is out in the stable. He will be delighted to see you. I'll call him." She turned to a bell button.

"Oh, no, please!" interrupted Polly. "I'd rather go there. I haven't seen Lone Star for an age!"

"You'll find them chatting together, as usual," laughed the little lady, and Polly skipped off as soon as Mrs. Gresham had driven away.

"Good afternoon, Miss Dudley." The Colonel extended his hand.

"Seems to me you're pretty formal," smiled Polly.

Colonel Gresham laughed, a gentle, mellow laugh, quite in harmony with the happy-lined face and the graying hair.

"I wish I had a chair to offer you," he said, looking about him, as if expecting one to pop into sight. "I suppose I'm indebted to David and Leonora for this visit."

"No, Colonel Gresham, I came to see you especially this time. I was going to ask them what they thought of a little plan I have; but they are not necessary—and you are!"

"Ah! a plan? I wait on your pleasure!" The Colonel bowed with mock gravity.

"Thank you!" chuckled Polly. "Perhaps you won't when you know about it. But I want to see Lone Star first—oh, he's just as beautiful as he ever was!" She patted the neck of the handsome creature and stroked his nose.

The horse whinnied at the attention and eyed her with seeming delight.

"I believe he remembers me, and I haven't spoken to him for—oh, how long is it?"

"My memory cannot extend so far." Colonel Gresham was evidently in a whimsical humor this afternoon.

Lone Star was made happy with more caresses and a full measure of oats, and then the Colonel and Polly walked slowly up to the house.

"When Polly unfolded her plan in regard to the Home ladies Colonel Gresham's face lighted with interest.

"You can have two of my cars," he said, "on one condition—no, two—that I may drive the big one and that you will sit on the front seat beside me."

"Oh, it won't be a bit hard for me to say yes to that!" Polly smiled. "I should like it! Let me see, five and four are nine, and four makes thirteen—why, they can all go—or all that are well enough! Won't that be lovely!"

"'Lovelicious,' I think!" The Colonel looked demurely down at Polly.

"How much I used to say that!" Polly laughed. "Well, I truly think this will be—three cars! Won't they be surprised! But we must squeeze in Leonora and David somewhere! Probably the ladies wouldn't all care to go, anyway. You are so good to let them have the cars—I never thought of two—or that you could go with us! I can't thank you half enough!"

Before Polly went home a ride was arranged for the next morning, and her heart skipped joyfully all the long way, thinking how happy Miss Nita and the rest would be.

Directly after luncheon she ran over to the Home.

"You look glad about something," Miss Sterling told her.

"You will be when you know," chuckled Polly. "What do you think!—you're going to ride with Colonel Gresham to-morrow morning!"

"With Colonel Gresham! He hasn't invited me!" Miss Sterling's knitting dropped into her lap.

"I have—or I'm going to! Oh, it will be lovely!" Polly's brown eyes shone. "Colonel Gresham is going to let us have his two biggest cars, and he will drive the seven-passenger one. Then father says we may have ours with Evan to drive, and we're going to take as many of the ladies as we can and have a beautiful ride! What do you think of that?"

"It's overwhelming! Catch me if I drop!" The gray-blue eyes were dancing.

Polly squeezed her ecstatically. "I want you in the car with me, and now let's see how many can go and which ones to ask."

It was a pleasant task, though really a little puzzling, for there were sixteen ladies of the Home, and only ten or eleven were to be counted among the weaklings. Nobody must be offended and nobody must feel hurt. So with David and Leonora, it was a hard matter, after all, to decide on the invitation list. Miss Sterling, however, was a wonderful assistant. Polly was sure she could never have disposed things so happily if it had not been for her wise Miss Nita.



CHAPTER XV

"LOTS O' JOY"

The morning was as clear and balmy as a festival day should be, and the cars were at the door of the June Holiday Home at three minutes before nine o'clock.

"Let's go early," Juanita Sterling had said, "while the day is fresh from the hand of God." And in accordance with her wish Polly had appointed the hour.

Most of the ladies were in Sunday attire, their wardrobes holding few changes between "everyday" and "best."

Juanita Sterling handled her small stock of apparel so that, plain as it was, it had an air of distinction. Little deft touches here and there added character and daintiness to any garment that she wore. Some of the less fortunate realized this as they rode out of the Home gate that July morning, and one or two were actually envious of the little woman who sat in Colonel Gresham's beautiful car and responded so merrily to the Colonel's sallies.

"I guess Miss Sterling has ways of getting her nest feathered that some other folks don't know anything about," whispered Miss Castlevaine to Miss Major.

"No such thing!" was the prompt retort. "She knows how to put her feathers on, that's all."

"Knowing how don't change colors as I've ever heard—huh! Look at that white dress! They don't give me white dresses!"

"Probably she had it when she came. She hasn't been here a year yet, you know," replied Miss Major.

"They won't make over mine," complained the other.

"Oh!" broke in Mrs. Albright, "look over there! Isn't that magnificent?"

Fields and slopes of varying green, wooded hills, and mountains in the blue distance—these made the picture that had called forth the exclamation.

"Magnificent!" echoed Miss Major.

Miss Castlevaine looked, but said nothing. The darkness of envy and discontent still dimmed her eyes.

Juanita Sterling, in the car ahead, was yielding herself to the bountiful joy of the moment and had forgotten disagreeable things. Polly and Colonel Gresham kept up a steady run of pleasantries, much of which came easily to her quick ears, and she found herself smiling with them even while her eyes were feasting on the ever-changing landscape.

"Doesn't Mrs. Dick live somewhere out this way?" inquired Miss Mullaly.

Miss Sterling did not know and in turn asked the Colonel.

"Tenney, the milk dealer? His farm is over there to the left a mile or two. Would you like to call on the bride?"

"Yes, I should! Wouldn't you, Polly?"

"First-rate! Let's!" was the eager answer.

So at the next cross-road the car was turned that way.

"I'm awfully glad you thought of it!" Polly turned to say.

"I didn't think of going there," Miss Mullaly admitted, "but I'd love to. Won't she be surprised!"

Surprised, indeed, was the former Mrs. Dick. She was on her way from garden to kitchen when the procession of cars came into view, and, her overflowing basket in hand, she halted on the side lawn until the party should pass by. A bunch of automobiles did not appear every day on the Tenney Farm road. Instead of going past, however, the big car ahead steered straight for her, and she recognized her friends! Down went her basket, and she skipped over the grass with the agility of a girl of fifteen.

"How do you do—Miss Sterling and Polly—and all of you! Well, I am astonished!—And if there aren't Miss Twining and Mrs. Bonnyman—why, are you all here?"

"Pretty nearly," answered Polly, who had jumped from the car and was clasping the speaker's hand.

Mrs. Tenney was soon surrounded by her Home associates and was so overwhelmed by the suddenness of the call that she almost forgot to invite them into the house.

"Oh, we can't stay!" declared Mrs. Albright. "We are just out for a ride, and those of us in the rear cars were about as surprised as you were. We'd no idea that Colonel Gresham was headed for your place—we didn't know you lived here till we saw you!"

"Dear people!" broke in Miss Sterling, "where are our manners? I'll confess, I forgot! Mrs. Tenney," with twinkling eyes she extended her hand, "I wish you every possible joy for all the days and years to come!"

Amid much laughter more good wishes followed, until somebody remembered that the morning was slipping away, and they were far from home.

"Well, say, why can't you all come out here sometime and spend the day? 'T won't make a mite of difference when. We always have enough to eat, and I am generally right here. I'd love dearly to have you. Pile 'em all in, if you can! Sit in each other's laps—any way to get 'em here! They're going to keep up the rides, aren't they?"

An instant's silence was broken by Polly. "Yes, we are!" she promised. "Colonel Gresham and father are going to let us have the cars until we're able to walk ten miles on a stretch!"

This sally was greeted by a shout, and the party climbed into the cars and were off, good-byes mingling with the noise of the motors.

"Anybody getting tired?" asked Colonel Gresham, as they swept into the village of Clare.

None would admit fatigue, and on whirled the cars, leaving the handful of houses behind. Presently they entered the broad street of an old town, where houses with gambrel roofs and quaint porches neighbored in quiet dignity with towered mansions and verandaed bungalows. Colonel Gresham drew up his car at a little shop, and he and David disappeared through the doorway. They soon came back With their hands full of ice-cream cones, which they distributed and returned for more.

"Isn't this cream lovely!" beamed Leonora to the back seat of the third car.

"Delicious!" responded Mrs. Albright.

"As good as I ever tasted!" declared Miss Major.

Miss Castlevaine nibbled hers for a moment longer before she spoke.

"My cousin goes automobiling a great deal," she said, "and she makes her own cream—solid cream it is, too!—and she has something that she puts it in so that she can slice it off as she wants it. It keeps ice cold for an indefinite time."

"I have heard of such contrivances," said Mrs. Albright politely.

"No cream could be better than this," asserted Miss Major confidently.

Miss Castlevaine drew her lips into a smirk.

"Trust the Colonel for buying the best of everything!" went on Miss Major. "What a man he is! I wish he were one of the directors of the June Holiday Home."

Miss Castlevaine's face stiffened into an expression of superiority, as if she could divulge things detrimental to the Colonel if she wished. But nobody appeared to regard her, and the cars jogged on,

Mrs. Adlerfeld, meanwhile, wore a look of saintly rapture.

Polly turned to say, "Isn't the air nice this morning?"

"Here it is beautiful!" smiled the little Swedish woman. "I have lots o' joy!"

Colonel Gresham threw her an admiring glance. "Glad you like it," he said.

"Oh, I like it very!" she responded. "I hope it didn't tired you to drive him."

"Not a bit!" he laughed.

"It looks more play as work," she smiled.

He nodded brightly back to her, and then turned to Polly. His tone was too low to carry to the seat behind.

"Why didn't you tell me what a charming little woman we had with us?"

"Isn't she sweet!" beamed Polly. "Didn't you ever meet her before?"

"Never! I'm going to invite her to ride with me—all alone, just to hear her talk!"

Polly chuckled. "I wish you would," she told him.

"She'd go, wouldn't she?"

"Of course! Why not?"

"I'll warrant that sour-looking elephant in the back car wouldn't!" laughed the Colonel. "She's that kind!"

"Oh! I guess you mean Miss Castlevaine. She's the biggest one there is. But she is very nice—sometimes."

"The times are few and far between, aren't they?" he twinkled.

Polly laughed, but said apologetically, "She's been pleasant to me."

"She ought to be; but over at the Tenneys' she looked as if she'd like to be somewhere else. She seemed to keep on the edge of things."

"She doesn't always come in with the rest—feels a little above some of them. She is very proud of her Russian ancestry. Her mother or grandmother was a duchess."

"I thought she was proud of something," observed the Colonel, "and it couldn't be her good looks."

"I think you are pretty hard on her," protested Polly.

"Am I?" he smiled. "Is she a particular friend of yours? You'll have to excuse me."

"Oh, she isn't an especial friend, but I feel sorry for her because she has to wear such old clothes—and she loves pretty things."

"Why doesn't she get pretty things, then, while she is about it?"

"She can't!" cried Polly. "She has to take what Miss Sniffen gives her."

"Oh, I see! Well, I reckon I'd look sour if I were dependent on that Miss Sniffen for clothes."

Polly chuckled. "I can't imagine it!"

"It would come pretty hard!" Colonel Gresham shook his head musingly. "It is a shame that those women are not better treated! I'll take them to ride as often as I can—you tell them so, Polly!"

"I will!" Polly beamed her delight. "It's lovely of you! It will do them no end of good. They stay cooped up in the house too much. You see, there's so much red tape about going out even for a little walk, that sometimes they'd rather stay at home."

"I'm going to talk to Randolph about it when I get a chance. He is too sensible a man to let this sort of thing go on."

"Oh, but you mustn't make him think there has been the leastest mite of complaint! If anybody finds a word of fault, she'll get turned out! They're afraid of their lives!"

"This little woman back here doesn't look afraid."

"No, she's different." Polly cast a look at her.

Mrs. Adlerfeld caught it and smiled back, a bright, happy smile, as if, indeed, she had "lots o' joy."



CHAPTER XVI

THE HIKING CLUB

"OH, Miss Nita! What do you think?" Polly burst into the room full of excitement. "Chris has gone!"

"Gone? Where?"

"To Australia!"

"Not alone?"

"Oh, no! His father is with him. We never knew he was coming—till there he was! For a minute Chris hardly knew him! Isn't that queer? But he didn't look like himself. His hair is cut close to his head! What do you suppose he did it for? It isn't becoming! But, oh, you ought to have seen Chris! He jumped right into his father's arms and cried and cried and cried! Mr. Morrow cried, too, almost as hard as Chris! We had a pretty exciting time!"

"When was it?" put in Miss Sterling.

"This noon. Mother did finally persuade him to stay to dinner—he wasn't going to! I don't see why he was in such a hurry to get away! Oh, I shall miss that boy awfully! He is always just so—never cross or pouty, or anything. Sometimes he has been pretty blue—I suppose thinking of his father and wondering why he didn't come. It has been almost two years! It won't seem a bit natural without Chris. I shall have to come over here and bother you more than ever." Polly sighed a bit sorrowfully and dropped on a hassock at Miss Sterling's feet.

"You know you couldn't come too often, my dear."

"I feel sometimes as if I were a nuisance," laughed Polly. "I guess Miss Sniffen thinks so. She looks at me so queer when she meets me in the hall."

"It is only her way. She can't have anything against you."

Polly shook her head doubtfully; then she smiled. "I did kind of pacify her the other night when we were late from our walk, didn't I? I was afraid I couldn't, but I wasn't going to let her know it!"

"It was funny the way she came round," Miss Sterling agreed.

"That makes me think," Polly broke out, "when are we going to have another walk?"

"I—don't—know," sighed the other. "Walking is such an effort! I get so tired I can't sleep."

"That's too bad!" mourned Polly. "But don't you think it's because you stay in the house so much? If you went oftener maybe you'd get used to it and it wouldn't tire you."

"Perhaps. I don't know."

"We were planning, only yesterday, Chris and I, to start a walking club—and now he's gone! But I suppose the rest of us can have it," Polly went on. "We thought we'd ask David and Leonora and Patricia,—she and her mother are just home from the shore,—and Doodles and Blue and all of you folks here."

"All the ladies?"

Polly nodded.

"They're not all equal to it. You forget how old some of them are."

"Anyway, they aren't too old to be asked!" laughed Polly.

"No, and it is a good idea. Sometimes a club will have a stronger pull on anybody than just an incidental invitation."

"That's what we thought—dear, dear, it's too bad Chris had to go!"

"I'm sorry, but I imagine he is happy enough to be with his father."

"Yes! He looked like another boy after his father came. Well, we'll have to do without him."

"How can Doodles and Blue be in? They live eighteen or twenty miles away."

"Oh, they can come down by trolley, or we can go up there," replied Polly easily.

Miss Sterling laughed. "You forget that we haven't any money for trolley fares."

"I never thought! They'll have to come here, then. Anyway, they've got to belong! Doodles is the sweetest boy! I used to wonder if he would change any when he was able to run and play—I didn't know but he'd get to be—coarser, you know; but he is just the same. Blue is nice, only he is more like other boys—Doodles isn't!"

"Miss Lily has been telling me of how he Went to sing to her. She just idolizes him."

"I know she does. The other day when I was up to see her she couldn't talk of anybody else. There isn't much doubt but that she will join the club if she can see Doodles oftener."

"She seems to be fairly strong; her trouble is only with her eyes."

"I guess it will do her eyes good to go outdoors more. I wanted to call it the 'Hiking Club'; but Chris was afraid the name would frighten some of them—they'd think a 'hike' meant more than just a walk."

"Mrs. Post is quite lame yet, and Mrs. Grace is having rheumatism. They couldn't go at present. Miss Twining's heart bothers her. She said she shouldn't dare attempt so long a walk again."

"As the one the other day? That wasn't long for a well person."

"But most of us are not well—if we were we shouldn't be here."

"I'll ask them all, anyway!" Polly insisted. "Can't we have our first meeting here in your room, Miss Nita?"

"Certainly. When is it to be?"

"I think to-day would be a good time—about two o'clock. It isn't very pleasant out, raw and chilly. I'll go round and invite them now. Will you come, too?"

"No, I'll sit here and read. You run along and get your hikers, and then come back and tell me about it."



CHAPTER XVII

GRANDAUNT SUSIE AND MISS SNIFFEN

Polly aroused more enthusiasm among the ladies than Miss Sterling had thought possible. Almost everybody, even Mrs. Grace, with her rheumatic knee, was eager to join the new club.

It was agreed that those who were able should take a tramp together twice a week and should walk on the veranda, ten times its length, at least once a day.

Polly was unanimously elected president, Miss Major for corresponding secretary, and David Collins for treasurer.

"The club will be bankrupt from the start," laughed Miss Crilly. "What do we need a treasurer for?"

"Oh, they always have one!" insisted Polly. "Maybe the money'll come."

"Sure! Somebody might donate a million dollars to us—and what should we do without anybody to take care of it!" Miss Crilly chuckled happily.

The work of organization being disposed of, Mrs. Bonnyman asked what was to be done next.

Polly didn't know.

"Oh, we must adjourn!" declared Miss Major. "That is the principal event of most business meetings."

Accordingly, with much giggling from a few of the members, the new club voted to adjourn until the next Monday.

"Oh, dear! it's raining hard!" cried Polly. "I thought maybe we could go for a little walk, just to mark the day."

"Can't we do something here—have some game or other?" suggested Miss Crilly.

"I say!" burst out David, "I forgot! Mother told me to be at home by half-past three, and it's almost that now. Will you come, Leonora, or wait for the shower to be over?"

Leonora preferred a walk in the rain to one alone, so they hurried into their raincoats and were off.

"Our company's dwindling," observed Miss Crilly, as the door shut upon Mrs. Post and Mrs. Crump, "but I don't want to go home yet—need I, Miss Sterling?" "Certainly not! I want you all to stay. Polly, you are queen of ceremonies—what shall we do next?"

"We might try some of Grandaunt Susie's exercises," twinkled Polly.

"Just the thing!"

"Who's Grandaunt Susie, pray?" Miss Crilly was frankly curious.

"Mother's grandaunt," explained Polly. "She was miserable, and these exercises made her strong enough to do almost anything. She is seventy-three,—or was when she was here, a year ago,—and father himself says she doesn't look a minute over thirty-five!"

"Oh, my! Let's try'em! I want to look 'not a minute over thirty-five'!" Miss Crilly waved her hands excitedly.

"How do you begin—this way?" Miss Mullaly sprang to her feet, threw out her chest, and worked her arms up and down.

"Oh, no!" cried Polly. "That is not it at all! You take them lying down!"

"Mercy!" cried Miss Lily.

"I'd like that!" declared Mrs. Albright.

"Good and easy!" Miss Crilly nodded.

"Yes, they are every one to be practiced in bed, before you get up in the morning," resumed Polly.

"What if you don't wake early enough?" asked Mrs. Prindle with a shrug.

"Then you're late for breakfast or lose your chance of going back to thirty-five!" laughed Miss Crilly.

"How can you thrash your arms round in bed?" Miss Mullaly queried.

"You don't have to. It isn't like gymnastics."

"Well, do tell us, Polly! I'm just crazy to begin!" Miss Crilly laughingly shook Polly's shoulders.

"There are so many of them," Polly drew a long, laughing breath, "I hardly know which to take first. There is one for the legs—that would help in walking. But you'll have to lie down first."

Miss Crilly and Miss Major hurried to the floor, Miss Mullaly following.

"Oh, lie on the bed!" cried Miss Sterling.

"This is all right." asserted Miss Crilly. "Go on, Polly!"

"You want to turn just a mite on your right side. Now make your right leg firm, and put your left toes against the top of your right foot,—yes, that's it!—and tense the muscles of your left leg—hard! Now relax! Tense again! Relax! You mustn't do it too long at first, but that's the way—tense and relax, ten times on this side and ten on the other."

"Whew! takes some strength! Why don't you try it, girls? It's fun! Miss Sterling will let you have her bed—we'll make it over afterwards. Try it. Mis' Albright, and you, Miss Leatherland, it'll do you good!"

"Yes, go ahead, as Miss Crilly says," urged Miss Sterling. "I've practiced that, and I think it has made me stronger."

Polly's class was increased to five, but the others could not be induced to make any attempt.

"There's another that's pretty good," went on Polly. "It's for both sides, alternate, but you can learn it on your right. Bend up your left knee, and take your left ankle in your left hand—now pull hard, leg and hand both! That's right. Pull and then relax. Here's another; bend your knee—the upper one, and take it in both hands and pull hard! Relax, and then pull again."

"I wish there was an exercise to make thin folks fatter," observed Miss Mullaly.

"I know some that'll make your cheeks plump and round," said Polly.

Little squeals of doubt greeted the announcement.

"I don't believe they'd make my face round," laughed Miss Leatherland.

"Yes, they would! Wouldn't they, Miss Nita?"

"I can't swear to it, as Polly does; but this I do know—it plumps and pinks them for a little while. Polly says her aunt told her that after enough practice the plumpness would stay."

"Oh, what is it?" queried Miss Mullaly eagerly.

"I'll try it on Miss Leatherland if she'll let me," offered Polly. "It will be more of a test on her, because she is thinnest."

"Certainly you may, but I can't quite believe it will do what you say it will."

"Just you wait'" chuckled Polly. "First you must smile, a big, big smile! Not quite hard enough!—Yes, that's better! Now, while I press my hands against your cheeks and massage them this way, you must open and shut your mouth—no, wider than that!—a little wider—just as wide as you can! Keep on smiling all the time!

"There! now I'll let you look in the glass—see how your cheeks have plumped out! Oh, but you lock pretty!"

"Doesn't she!" Miss Crilly jumped up, the better to see. "Look! everybody! My, how pretty!"

"'Pretty!'" scorned Miss Leatherland. Yet the pink rose higher.

"Polly! is this the right way?" Miss Mullaly was doing her best, but not well enough to satisfy the instructor.

"The middle of your hand must come up high on your cheek," explained Polly. "Yes, that's it! And twenty-five times you must open and shut your mouth."

"Polly," broke in Miss Sterling, "when you can, I wish you'd tell Mrs. Prindle how to make her hair grow."

"Yes," added Mrs. Prindle, "she says you know a way of massaging the scalp, and my hair is so thin!"

"You'll have to take it down, I guess—so you can get at it all over," said Polly.

"Do you know it will really help it?"

"Grandaunt Susie said her hair was so thin you could see through it, and when she was at our house it was as thick as—as thick as mine."

"Oh, I'm going to try that—my hair's all coming out!" Miss Lily drew her pins from the thin coil.

Mrs. Grace and Mrs. Adlerfeld made their heads ready for manipulation.

"You just put your hands this way, right up under your hair,"—Polly spread out her fingers,—"and clutch at the scalp hard, as if you were going to pull it off. Go all over the head, again and again for five minutes—two or three times a day. Aunt Susie says it will make the hair grow like fun."

"Oh, Miss Polly, will you be so kind as to show me just how it goes, please?" Miss Twining was shaking down her scanty locks.

"It's very easy," Polly smiled. She liked the shy, gentle Miss Twining. "This is all there is to it," working her hands under the soft blond hair. "The only trouble is, it tires the hands out pretty quick."

"Oh, yours must be tired! I should not have asked you!"

"No, no! Mine are all right. I was thinking only of yours. Now, try it yourself. Yes, that's the way! You have it!"

"Polly!" Miss Crilly was on the floor, hugging her knee.

"I'm here!" laughed Polly.

"Do you know anything that will scare away a double chin?"

"Yes, I do!"

"Oh, jolly! What is it?"

"I'd like to hear about that!" spoke up Miss Castlevaine.

Polly thought a moment.

"You'll have to lie down—flat on your back—no, you go over on the bed, Miss Castlevaine, and I'll tell you how to do it."

"Don't get up, Mis' Albright!" cried Miss Crilly. "I can learn how here just as well!" She lay back, her eyes on Polly.

"I'll put this pillow right under your shoulders—so. Now throw your head—"

A sharp rap halted the sentence. Mrs. Albright sat up. The door was flung open before Polly reached it.

"Ladies! what does this mean?" Miss Sniffen stood there, resolute and merciless.

Nobody answered.

Miss Twining and Miss Lily began hurriedly to gather up their disheveled hair. Miss Castlevaine arose haughtily. Polly's tongue was quickest to recover itself.

"I was only teaching the ladies some exercises to make them strong. We are not doing any harm, Miss Sniffen."

"I infer that it makes them stronger to pull their hair down." The tone was smoothly sarcastic.

"Oh, that!" returned Polly, with a tiny smile; "I've been telling them how to massage the scalp, so as to make their hair grow."

"Very necessary, indeed! And I suppose their hair grows faster if they stretch themselves out upon the bed and the floor! I'm ashamed of you!"

"Oh, Miss Sniffen!" protested Polly, "you have to lie down to take these exercises! The book says so!"

"Book!" snapped the angry voice; "I'll book you all for what you won't like if I ever catch you in such unladylike postures again! You must be in your second childhood! Now march to your rooms, every one of you!" She waved her hand peremptorily toward the doorway, and the culprits filed meekly past her—all but Miss Castlevaine. She walked with stately step and head held high, as became the great-granddaughter of a duchess.

"I think you would better go home now, you have worked mischief enough for one day!" She addressed Polly in a slightly mollified tone.

"Why, Miss Sniffen, I can't see what harm there is in trying to get well and strong. I should think you'd like the ladies to be better. Father and mother think these exercises are fine! Mother's Grandaunt Susie told us about them. They made her as good as new!"

"We won't discuss the matter," replied the superintendent in a hard voice. "You need not remain to talk it over with Miss Sterling."

"I'm going—right now!" Polly caught up her coat.

"Good-bye, Miss Nita!" She swept past Miss Sniffen with a curt bow.

The door tight shut, Juanita Sterling fisted the air in the direction of the departing superintendent. Then she drooped her head and sobbed.



CHAPTER XVIII

VICTOR VON DALIN

For several days the weather was showery, not very pleasant for walking, and Polly stayed away from the June Holiday Home.

"What will Miss Nita think!" she mourned. "Miss Sniffen has probably forgotten by this time that she sent me home. Wouldn't it do for me to go over for just a little while this fore-noon, while the officers are all busy?"

"I think you had better wait until Saturday," her mother decided.

So Polly sighed and ran off to write a little note to her beloved friend. It was warm in her own room, and she carried paper and pencil out to her favorite seat on the veranda.

She was there when a man came up the front steps, a white-haired man. He walked with a firm, quick step, and when he saw her he came over to where she sat. He took off his hat with a courteous bow.

"May I ask," he said in a low, pleasant voice, "if you know a lady in the June Holiday Home named Adlerfeld, Mrs. Elise Adlerfeld?"

"Oh, yes, sir! I know her very well; that is, I know Mrs. Adlerfeld. I am not sure that her name is Elise."

"Her husband's name was Hans Adlerfeld."

"I don't know anything about him," Polly replied; "but there's only one Mrs. Adlerfeld there. She is a dear! I love her!"

The man's face flushed with pleasure. "Then you may, perhaps, help me. I have sought her these two years, and only now have I found her! I went to the door, and the lady told me I could not see her till next Wednesday! I cannot stay. I must go back to New York, and I must see her before I go. I begged the door-keeper to allow me to speak with my friend for only a short moment; but she would not. She said it was not visitor's day. Then I thought perhaps a neighbor might help me. So I come to you. I ask you, is there any way I can get inside to her, or she can get out to me? I beg of you, my dear young lady, will you help me? I must see her to-day! I cannot stay even till to-morrow!"

"That is just like Miss Sniffen" declared Polly. "She is the superintendent. She will never let anybody in except on Wednesday afternoon. It is a shame' I don't know—" She hesitated. "Perhaps mother will let me go over and tell her. Please take this chair, sir. Mother will see you about it; she will know better than I what to do."

"Tell her, if you please, that it is Victor von Dalin, an old friend of Mrs. Adlerfeld's, in Sweden, who desires to see her."

"Oh! are you really from Sweden?" beamed Polly. "How delighted she will be!"

"I have not been in Sweden these two years; but I knew her well when we lived there, a long time ago."

Polly ran off, full of excitement. How pleased the dear little woman would be! To think Miss Sniffen should refuse him entrance! She explained the matter to her mother.

"I will go right down," said Mrs. Dudley. "We must find some way to bring them together without arousing suspicion."

It was finally decided that Polly should go over to the Home and up to Miss Sterling's room, as usual, leaving Miss Sterling to see Mrs. Adlerfeld and to give her Mrs. Dudley's invitation to spend the rest of the day at her house.

Happily, Miss Sniffen was not in sight as Polly made her quick way to the third floor.

"You dear child! Then you're not sick! I was afraid you were."

Miss Sterling held her at arm's length, to make sure of her health.

"Sick? Not a bit!" laughed Polly. "Mother thought I'd better not come until Miss Sniffen had had a chance to forget she sent me home—that's all! I wasn't coming till to-morrow, but something happened—the loveliest thing!"

"What?"

"Come, sit down, and I'll tell you!"

"I can't imagine what it is!"

"No, you can't! You couldn't guess if you had a year to do it in! The nicest man has come from New York to see Mrs. Adlerfeld, and they wouldn't let him in here! Wasn't that mean! So he came over to our house, to ask if we knew her and could help him out. He used to know Mrs. Adlerfeld in Sweden, and he's bound to see her! Oh, he's so lovable! His hair is as white! But he doesn't look old. Can't you come over pretty soon and see him? Though I don't know as you'd better. That might give it away—to have two come! Mother wants you to tell Mrs. Adlerfeld that she would like to have her spend the day with us. Make her come just as quick as she can. You can tell her that it is Mr. Victor von Dalin that is there—isn't that a sweet name? Oh, I do hope she will come! He'll have a fit if she doesn't! Wasn't Miss Sniffen horrible the other day? When we were having such a good time! I must go—no, I guess I'll wait till you've been up and found out. Then I can tell him."

Polly waited and waited, wondering, after five minutes, why Miss Sterling did not come back.

"Dear me!" she thought anxiously, "I hope Mrs. Adlerfeld hasn't fainted or anything!"

The time dragged slowly away. Ten o'clock went by. Polly wandered restlessly around the room. She took up a book, but could not read. Once she started to go down the hall to find out; then she concluded she had better not. She looked out of the window, but could think of nothing but the worrying fact of Miss Nita's prolonged absence.

At last she heard her light step in the corridor. She sprang to the door.

"What in the world—"

Miss Sterling motioned for silence, and they hurried to the further side of the room.

"I knew you'd be frantic," she began; "but I couldn't help it. Just before I reached Mrs. Adlerfeld's room I heard Mrs. Nobbs's voice in there, so I stopped at Mrs. Albright's. I knew it would be all right to tell her, they are so intimate. She is pleased as we are. But it did seem as if Mrs. Nobbs never would go! Oh, the dear woman is so excited that I don't know whether she will get dressed straight or not! Mrs. Albright is helping her. His coming has upset her completely. But it is a happy up-setting! You can see that! I am so glad!"

"Will she come right over?"

"If they'll let her. I presume they will."

"If they don't, I'll make a fuss!" threatened Polly. "I'll go after Mr. Randolph."

Miss Sterling laughed. "You won't have to do that."

"You haven't ever found out what he wanted to talk with you about over the wire, have you?" Polly asked.

"No, and I never shall." Miss Sterling's lips took a sorrowful droop.

"You will, too! I'll ask him myself some day!"

"No, no, you mustn't!"

"You'll see!" Polly laughed and said a soft "Good-bye!"

Miss Sterling motioned her back.

"Be sure to come over to-morrow morning and tell me all about it!" she whispered.

Polly returned earlier. She appeared at four o'clock.

"I couldn't wait another minute!" she said. "The two dears are sitting out on the veranda, up in the corner where the vines hide them from the street, and their heads are close together and they are talking earnestly in that queer lingo that nobody else understands! Oh, they are having the loveliest time! They were at our house to luncheon, both of them, and they're going to stay to dinner! He will take the 7.30 train for New York. We've all enjoyed it so much! Father and he just took to each other. You ought to have heard them talk! I believe he knows every book that ever was written! We had such fun! Father and mother never saw Mrs. Adlerfeld very much, and they think she is just charming. They used to go to school together in Sweden. His wife died three years ago, and he has a son and daughter, both married. The daughter lives in Stockholm and the son in Newark. Mr. Von Dalin is librarian in one of the big libraries—oh, I wish you could see him! Dear me, I must run back, for they may want something!"

Without doubt Polly was extraordinarily excited.



CHAPTER XIX

"A MOONSHINE PARTY"

"Next Tuesday is Miss Lily's birthday!" Polly made the announcement in lowered tones.

"How old is she?" asked Miss Sterling.

"I don't know. Doodles told me when he was down the last time. You know he wrote out her application, and I suppose he had to give the date. He said wouldn't it be nice if we could celebrate it."

"But how? Celebrations and June Holiday Home are not on speaking terms."

"Well, Doodles proposed that we all come up to his house, and his mother would make a birthday cake. But we shouldn't let them do it all. Mother would furnish the salad and some of the other things. Then, I don't doubt Patricia would help, and Leonora and David."

"I wish I could." Miss Sterling shook her head sadly.

"Now, Miss Nita, don't you feel that way! If you do, I'll give it all up!"

"But I may be sorry, mayn't I, that I can't help anything along?"

"No; because you do help along. It isn't just money and cake and such things."

"I like cake!" She smiled whimsically.

"Oh, why don't I bring you some! We had a lovely raspberry layer cake when Mr. Von Dalin was here, and I never thought to bring over a mite! Mother says I am growing careless, and I'm afraid she's right!"

"Dear child! I don't want you to bring me cake! I said that only in fun."

"You shall have some, all the same! Isn't the table here any better?"

Miss Sterling wrinkled her face into an answer. "The last cook is the worst we've had yet."

"Too bad! Colonel Gresham said he was going to see Mr. Randolph about things; but I dare say he has forgotten it."

"I hope he won't think I've been complaining to you." Miss Sterling looked alarmed.

"No, I cautioned him. Probably he will never think of it again."

"I rather hope he won't. My fear of the Powers is amounting almost to terror."

"Oh, Miss Nita, don't be afraid! That will make you go back! You mustn't have a bit of fear!"

Miss Sterling laughed softly. "Well," she yielded—"let's talk about the birthday celebration."

"You haven't stopped being afraid." Polly scanned the other with keen eyes. "But never mind, we'll go ahead with the plans. I love to plan! Don't you?"

"I like it too well; but I've seen so many of my projects burst into nothing all in a minute that I've been trying lately to content myself with everyday happenings."

"I'm sorry you've had so much trouble, Miss Nita," said Polly plaintively.

The little woman smiled. "I ought not to have said that. I'm better, you know! How are we to get up to Foxford?"

"Oh, in automobiles! Didn't I tell you? Colonel Gresham will let us have two, and Mrs. Illingworth one, and father ours. I don't know how many will go from here, but there'll be David and Leonora and Patricia and me, besides the Colonel and the chauffeurs. You don't think but that Miss Sniffen will let them all go, do you?" Polly added anxiously.

"Perhaps." Miss Sterling mused over it. "I can't tell; I've lost the map of Miss Sniffen's mind."

"Did you ever have it?" laughed Polly.

"I think once I had a facsimile of it."

Polly chuckled. Then she shook her head doubtfully. "I wish Miss Sniffen—wasn't Miss Sniffen," she mused vaguely. Suddenly she brightened. "Why can't we tell Mr. Randolph about it and ask him to ask Miss Sniffen?" She waited eagerly for the answer. It was not quick to come.

Miss Sterling bent her head in thought, while the color fluttered on her cheeks.

"I'm afraid it wouldn't be best," she said finally with a deep breath. "He might—"

"Oh, bother!" Polly broke in; "I was so sure that was a brilliant thought of mine! And now you turn it down just like any common idea!"

"My dear child, it isn't that the idea is not brilliant, but it seems to me it would be—would be—just a little out of place!"

"It wouldn't be—a single bit!" insisted Polly. "Isn't he the president of the Home?"

"Yes; but he isn't in this, and wouldn't it look as if we were ignoring Miss Sniffen?"

"Maybe it would," assented Polly submissively. "I hadn't thought of that."

"You have said nothing to Miss Lily about it?"

"Oh, no!" Polly replied. "We've only talked it over at home and with the Greshams."

"I suppose I'll have to parley with the Powers," smiled Miss Sterling ruefully.

"I don't want to!" Polly frowned. She thought a moment, tapping her teeth with her thumb. "Oh, I know!" she burst out joyously. "You can't object to this! Colonel Gresham's the one to do it—because he's going, too. He'll drive his big car. I thought it wouldn't do to have father, for she'd think I got him to do it. But Colonel Gresham would win anybody if he tried."

Miss Sterling nodded approvingly.

"Aren't you glad I thought of it?"

"It looks the best thing."

"It is! Guess I'll go and ask the folks now! Will you come?"

"No, thank you! Run on alone—you'll do it best without any assistance."

Polly laughed happily. She was too excited to insist on even Miss Nita's company.

It was a good hour before she returned, having been rapturously welcomed upstairs and down and kept as long as possible.

"Everybody is delighted with the idea!" Polly dropped to the hassock at Miss Sterling's knee. "They're all going—if they can!—except Mrs. Post and Mrs. Prindle. Mrs. Post has had a pull-back and she can't walk at all, and Mrs. Prindle's cold is worse. I think the rest will just fill the cars."

She counted up, and found seats and occupants to agree.

"I'm wondering whether to have Mrs. Adlerfeld or Miss Lily sit with Colonel Gresham—which would you?" Polly was all alight with her planning.

"The Colonel would enjoy Mrs. Adlerfeld best. Miss Lily would be too shy to say anything."

"So she would! I only thought of her because she's the birthday girl. Oh! You can't imagine how surprised she was—I thought she'd better know it right away, and not try to be secret about it."

Miss Sterling smiled assent.

"She looked as if she were going to cry," Polly went on; "but then I said something funny, and she laughed. I could see she was wonderfully pleased that Doodles should propose it. I'm glad he did, for I guess she doesn't have very much to make her happy.

"Oh, I forgot! What do you think Mrs. Adlerfeld calls it? I happened to say we thought it was so nice it came when the moon was full, and she said, 'Thank you, I shall be so glad and happy to go! I am very fond about moonshine nights!' Isn't that just lovely? I'm going to call it a 'moonshine' party! It is ever so much prettier than 'moonlight.' Won't Colonel Gresham be pleased to have Mrs. Adlerfeld sit with him!"



CHAPTER XX

THE PARTY ITSELF

The weedy roadside was a witching tangle of shadows, and the air was drowsy with spicy, wind-blown scents, as four motor cars swept on their merry way to Foxford.

Juanita Sterling, in the last of the procession, watched the gay little imps dance across the windshield and thought glad thoughts. It was going to be a worth-while evening she felt sure, and it was good that her left-hand neighbors, Miss Major and Mrs. Winslow Teed, had each other to entertain, and she was free to anticipate and ponder and to feast her heart on the visions of the night.

The sometimes insisting opinions of Miss Major and the familiar "When I was abroad" of Mrs. Winslow Teed seldom obtruded on her dreams. Once, however, she came to her surroundings with a start.

"No," Miss Major was asserting, "Nelson Randolph is not the man for the place. He takes some things for granted and lets other things drift. If we had a good, live president, our superintendent would get her walking ticket instanter."

"A little strange he doesn't marry again. His wife has been gone for some years, hasn't she?"

"Five last June. They say he is devoted to her memory. I don't take much stock in such devotedness—so far as men are concerned. When he finds some pink and white doll that is sufficiently captivating he will go through with another wedding ceremony."

"That makes me think of a Danish couple I met in Florence," began Mrs. Winslow Teed; "she couldn't have been over nineteen or twenty, and he was eighty at least. She—"

Miss Sterling was again absorbed in her own thoughts and never heard what became of the poorly-mated travelers.

Doodles and Blue ran down from the veranda as the cars speeded up the slope to the little bungalow, and they were quickly in the midst of a joyous circle.

Polly and David, alighting from the third car, ran back to help Miss Sterling and the others.

"Oh, Miss Nita! Wasn't the ride lovely?" Polly squeezed her friend's arm. "Say, did you know, at the very last minute Miss Sniffen sent over word that Mrs. Bonnyman couldn't go? She had the toothache, and so mother came in her place! Oh, I did wish you were in our car! I wanted to say, 'Isn't that beautiful?' and 'Just look at this!'"

"You could talk to David," laughed Miss Sterling.

"Oh, yes, I did some! But Mrs. Crump was jabbering to him most of the time. Haven't you ever been out here before? Why, I thought you had!—How d' y' do, Doodles!"

The three went up the steps hand in hand.

"Isn't that the loveliest, biggest moon you ever saw?" exclaimed Polly.

While they lingered to look at it a car flashed up the road and turned in at the entrance.

"Somebody going to the Flemings'," remarked Doodles carelessly.

"No, it's coming here!" returned Polly. The lights blazed toward them.

They waited, and a man stepped out.

"Mr. Randolph!" breathed Polly, as he emerged from the shadows.

"I feel somewhat like an intruder," said the president, as he grasped the hand of Doodles. "When Colonel Gresham invited me I told him my coming was impossible. Then things cleared up a little—and here I am!"

A visible stir succeeded Nelson Randolph's entrance. Mrs. Stickney and Colonel Gresham welcomed him most cordially, and Polly, as president of the Hiking Club, greeted him with a characteristic little speech.

Presently the unexpected guest was moving easily among the others, passing from group to group with hearty handshakes and happy words, at last coming face to face with Juanita Sterling.

She had watched him nearing her corner, the while politely attending to Miss Leatherland's intermittent chit-cnat and vainly trying to banish from her mind the recent assertions of Miss Major. With his first word, however, they fled, and she found herself talking to the president unabashed and unafraid.

"I am glad to have the opportunity of telling you how much I thought of those beautiful roses," she said; "I never saw handsomer ones."

"It is good to know you enjoyed them. I hoped to have the pleasure of taking you out to Adalina Park in the height of the rose season." Was there an inquiry in the eyes that bent to hers?

She felt the flush sweep up her cheeks. "I should have been delighted to go," she replied. Hurriedly she tried to think of something to add to the brief sentence, but her mind was confused, and the seconds slipped by.

"I was sorry it happened so," he went on; "but we will try it again. Adalina Park is in its full glory now, and there are pretty drives outside of the parks." He smiled whimsically.

Then came the question that put her in doubt whether she should tell him the truth or not—"When should I be most likely to find you disengaged?"

"Almost any time," she answered, having decided that she would leave him to discover why she had not responded to his invitation. "Work is never pressing at the Home."

"Isn't it?" A puzzled look flickered in his eyes—or was it only her fancy?

A little flutter about the piano told that somebody was to play or sing. David took the seat and began a prelude. Then he sang in a clear, fresh voice:—

"Red as the wine of forgotten ages, Yellow as gold of the sunbeams spun, Pink as the gowns of Aurora's pages, White as the robe of a sinless one, Sweeter than Araby's winds that blow— Roses, roses, I love ye so!"

"Who is that boy?" Nelson Randolph asked. "Some relation of Colonel Gresham's, isn't he?"

"His grandnephew, David Collins."

"He has a fine voice."

"Excellent. Polly Dudley has a sweet voice, too. I hope she will sing before the evening is over. And Doodles is wonderful! Have you ever heard him?"

"No. He told me he was in the choir at St. Bartholomew's."

"There he comes! Oh, Polly is to play for him!"

A very sympathetic accompanist was Polly. Juanita Sterling listened in surprise and wonder. How could such a child do so well!

"Young Davie was the brawest lad In a' the Lairnie Glen, An' Jennie was the bonniest lass That e'er stole hearts o' men; But Davie was a cotter's lad, A lad o' low degree, An' Jennie, bonnie, sonsie lass, A highborn lass was she."

Applause burst upon the hush that hung on the last note. It was insistent—it would not be denied. Doodles must sing again.

"He is a marvel!" Nelson Randolph spoke it softly, as the young singer returned to the piano.

He gave the second verse of the song, which before he had omitted, and then sang the dainty little love song,—

"Dusk, and the shadows falling O'er land and sea; Somewhere a voice is calling, Calling for me!"

Yet even that did not satisfy his audience. So he returned once more and gave in an irresistibly rollicking way a song in Yankee dialect, the refrain to which,—

"Oh, my boy Jonathan is jest as good as gold! An' he always fills the wood-box 'ithout bein' told!"—

tagging as it did the various topics of the old farmer's discourse upon his son, never failed to bring laughter from his hearers.

At the end the applause was long and urgent; but Doodles had run away, and would not come back.

Polly slipped up to Miss Sterling.

"Will you play for us now?—please, Miss Nita!" seeing a refusal in the eyes that met her own.

"I am not in practice. I should hate to break down before all these people," she smiled.

"There isn't one mite of danger!" Polly asserted confidently. "Do come, Miss Nita! Mr. Randolph, I wish you'd coax her to come! She can play magnificently!"

"Polly!"

"She can!" Polly addressed the president.

"I don't doubt it," Nelson Randolph declared, "and I should be delighted to hear her."

"You wouldn't be delighted at all," Miss Sterling laughed. "You would want to stop me long before I had finished one page. My fingers would be lost in no time."

He dissented with courtliness, and Polly wheedled until Doodles and Blue came to add their urging to hers; but in the end they had to let Miss Sterling have her way, which was to remain outside of the entertaining circle.

So Polly sang, "Such a li'l' fellow," and "Daisytown Gossip." Then Mrs. Winslow Teed was beguiled into singing the old song of "The Beggar Girl," and if her voice were a bit uncertain, on the whole it was sweet and received well-earned applause.

Games interspersed the music, and it was discovered that the president of June Holiday Home, as well as the eldest of the Home residents, was quite as clever in guesses as the young folks.

Either by chance or intention,—Juanita Sterling could not decide which,—Nelson Randolph appeared to have established himself for the evening at her side. Others came and went, but the president stayed.

"I wonder when we shall hear Caruso," she said. "He is on the programme; I think they must be waiting until the moon is high."

"Caruso?" he repeated with a puzzled look. "Not—"

"No, not the great Caruso," she smiled; "the little Caruso."

"But what has the moon to do with his singing? I am in the dark."

She laughed out. "I don't wonder! I supposed you knew about Caruso. He is a wonderful mocking-bird that belongs to Doodles. He can—but wait! You will hear him soon, if I'm not mistaken."

Blue was at the window, gazing skyward. He raised the curtain high, and the moonlight streamed in. A large cage was placed on a table in the direct beams. Suddenly the lights were out.

A mellow fluting broke the hush,—and Caruso was in song!

Few of the guests had ever heard his like. He was a score of performers in one. The notes of a dozen birds issued in quick succession from that one little throat, clear, sweet, delicious. Then, without warning, came the unmistakable squeal of a pig, the squawking of hens, the yelp of a puppy, which in a moment merged into a little carol, and then—Caruso was singing "Annie Laurie"!

The concert reached a sudden end, and the audience came to itself in such applause as none of the other performers had won.

"Are there any more astonishments in store for me?" asked Nelson Randolph, as the clapping dwindled to a few tardy hands. "When the Colonel invited me to come up this evening I did not anticipate a concert of this nature. He said they were to have 'a little music,' but you know what that generally means."

"I know," nodded Miss Sterling smilingly. "I wonder, after such an admission, that you were willing to risk it."

"Oh, I didn't come for the music!" he returned. "Nevertheless, it is worth going more than twenty miles to hear. Polly and Doodles and David would make a good concert by themselves—and now the mocldng-bird! I never heard anything equal to his performance! He is a wonder!"

"He can whistle 'Auld Lang Syne,' too, I think he does it quite as well as 'Annie Laurie.'"

The applause had started again, and the lights, which had been turned on, went out. The audience quieted at once.

Soft and sweet came the tones of a violin.

"Doodles," breathed Miss Sterling.

Nelson Randolph bent his head to hear, and nodded in answer.

Softly the player slipped into "Old Folks at Home," and the tune went on slowly, lingeringly, as if waiting for something that did not come. Again it was played, this time with the voice of Doodles accompanying.

Meanwhile Polly was tiptoeing noiselessly from group to group and from guest to guest, with the soft-breathed word, "No applause, please!"

Over and over sounded the sweet, haunting melody, until not a few of those unfamiliar with the methods of the patient teacher and his singular little pupil, wondered, with Miss Crilly, "what in the world was up."

Then, just as almost everybody's nerves were growing tense, Caruso took up the air and carried it on bewitchingly to its close.

"How can he do it!"—"Wasn't that perfectly beautiful!"—"Did you teach it to him, Doodles?"—"My! but he's a jimdandy, and no mistake!" These and a score of others were tossed about as the lights went up.

"I must have a nearer view of that singer," declared Nelson Randolph. "I'm sure he can't look like an ordinary mocker; he must show the marks of genius in his feathers!"

Miss Sterling laughed. "He is certainly surprising. Doodles told me he was trying to teach him a new song, but I was not prepared for anything like this."

"Who could be!—Come!" he invited. "Let's go over and see him!"

Juanita Sterling unavoidably brushed Miss Crilly on the way across, and smiled pleasantly, to which that middle-aged merrymaker responded with a whispered, "Ain't you swell, a-goin' with the president all the evening!"

Miss Sterling flung back a laughing shake of the head, and passed on.

Nelson Randolph scanned the slim gray bird in silence. Then he turned to his companion.

"It doesn't seem possible that this little fellow could do all that!"

Doodles smiled across the cage. He was giving Caruso the tidbit which he had well earned.

"How long does it take you to teach him a song?"

"I've only taught him one, Mr. Randolph. He was several months learning that. He knew 'Annie Laurie' when he came, and Mr. Gillespie taught him 'Auld Lang Syne.'"

"The bird had finished his little feast and stood nonchalantly preening his feathers.

"Caruso!"

The mocker lifted his head and gave a short whistle. Then he went on with his interrupted toilet.

Nelson Randolph laughed softly.

"Caruso!" began Doodles again. "Caruso!"

The bird looked up and whistled as before.

Doodles bent closer. "Can't you sing 'Auld Lang Syne' for Mr. Randolph? He has never heard it, you know."

The mocker stretched a wing and let go a mellow strain.

Softly Doodles began to sing,—

"Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And never brought to mind? Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And days of auld lang syne?"

The bird had stood listening, and now caught tip the air with vigor, carrying it on with a surety that was as astonishing as it was delightful.

Nelson Randolph shook his head in admiration. "Marvelous!" he cried; "marvelous!" He put his hand in his pocket—"I wish you liked pennies!" he laughed.

"His pennies are meal worms," said Doodles with a grimace. "I'll get him one."

"Ugh! How can he?" laughed Miss Crilly, as the bird disposed of the dainty.

His reward seemed to incite him to further song, for straightway he launched into a gay little medley that set his hearers laughing and admiring at once.

"The birthday supper is ready!" announced Blue informally from the door of the dining-room.

Doodles ran quickly to Miss Lily's side and they took place at the head of the little procession.

Colonel Gresham and Mrs. Adlerfeld came next.

"Oh, I'm so glad!" thought Juanita Sterling, catching a sight of the little Swedish woman's happy face.

The company speedily divided itself into two's, and Miss Sterling, with a bit of a heart flutter, found herself walking beside the president of June Holiday Home. Just ahead were Patricia and David. Where was Polly? She and David were always together—everywhere. But now she and Leonora were side by side. Strange!—but wonderings were lost in the pleasant calls of the occasion.

In the smallish dining-room a long table gave seats to everybody, and no one was crowded.

Nothing elaborate had been attempted, all was simple and homelike. Except for the curious decoration above the seat of honor, and the birthday cake with its pink and white frosting, there was little to distinguish it from an every-day repast.

Talk and appetite went merrily hand in hand, and the "birthday girl," as Polly and Doodles insisted on calling her, grew actually gay.

"When she had cut the cake, and everybody's plate was empty, Doodles asked her to pull a pink ribbon hanging from the umbrella-like contrivance over her head.

"With a half-frightened face and fingers that trembled, she plucked at the dainty string. Nothing happened.

"Pull harder!" urged Doodles.

She made another attempt—and gave a little cry, for tumbling about her came birthday gifts in wild array.

Into her lap plumped an embroidered pin-cushion, on one shoulder drooped a muslin and lace apron, over her head was draped a white silk waist, while all around, on floor and table, were other articles, besides packages of various sizes tied with pink and white ribbons. In the laughter and confusion, presents too bulky or too frail to be risked in a fall were placed near her,—a long box of pink roses, a tall vase of cut-glass, a big, big box of candy, a pretty bon-bon dish, a small fern, and a little begonia with lovely pink blossoms.

To be thus suddenly surprised, and at the same time to be made the attractive point of so many eyes, was more than Faith Lily's composure could bear. Her lip quivered like a little child's, her blue eyes filled with tears and over-flowed—she began softly to sob.

Doodles looked distressed. Then he did the best thing possible.

He took up the pincushion. "Mrs. Dudley made you this," he said, "and this is from Leonora,"—he held the apron for her to see. "Isn't it pretty? Turn round a bit and I'll tie it on!"

The crying ceased, and the tension had passed. Miss Lily smiled down on the apron with happy eyes.

"Here is a handkerchief that Polly embroidered for you," Doodles went on, "and this box of chocolates is from Mr. Randolph. Colonel Gresham gave you the roses—just smell them!" He lifted the box to her face.

"Oh!" breathed Miss Lily in delight.

"The china dish is David's present, and these cards are from Mrs. Albright and Mrs. Bonnyman and Miss Crilly. This beautiful waist—that's from Patricia, and the box of handkerchiefs from her mother, and the booklet from Miss Castlevaine, and the photograph from Miss Major. Oh! the vase is from the 'Hiking Club,'—and I don't know about the packages."

Miss Lily beamed on her riches, upon Doodles, upon the whole tableful.

"Why," she exclaimed softly, "I don't see how you came to do it! I never thought of having a single present! Oh, it's beautiful of you!" Her voice trembled. "I can't thank you half enough, but I shall love you, every one, as long as I live!"

Doodles was picking up the small parcels scattered on the floor.

"Will you have these now?" he nodded.

"Oh, yes!" she said, eagerly as a child.

Everybody seemed interested in the unwrapping. They were simple gifts, but Miss Lily fingered them lovingly, even to the plainest little card.

The telephone called Blue into the next room. He returned almost at once.

"Mr. Randolph," he said, "some one wishes to talk with you."

They were rising from the table as the president came back.

"I am sorry to say good-bye so early," he told them; "but a New York man is waiting to see me on important business and has to return home on the 11.45 train. So I must get down to him as soon as possible."

He came over to Juanita Sterling with a little rueful smile.

"I hoped to have the pleasure of taking you home, but—" He shook his head. "We'll make up for it in a day or two," he finished blithely.

Her eyes met his. Something she saw there sent a warm flush to her cheeks, and she looked away.

"You will hear from me soon." He held out his hand. "Thank you for giving me so much enjoyment this evening—good-night."

That was all. Simple courtesy, Juanita Sterling told herself two hours later; but now—her heart was filled with a quivering joy that was almost pain.

On the homeward ride she found herself seated next to Miss Major, with Miss Castlevaine just beyond.

"We seem to be shifted round," Miss Castlevaine observed. "I came up in the second car, Dr. Dudley's; but Mrs. Winslow Teed has my seat—I was in front with the chauffeur. So I took the first vacant place I saw."

"She rode up with us."

"Then it is all right. I see David Collins has got Patricia Illingworth in tow—he came with Polly. I wonder if they've had a quarrel."

"I never knew them to quarrel," said Juanita Sterling.

"Oh, don't they? Well, it looks like it now. He took Patricia out to supper, too."

"So he did," responded Miss Major. "I didn't think of it in that light. We've had a nice evening, anyway. It seems good to get out of the rut."

"Yes," answered Miss Castlevaine grudgingly; "but they'll have to keep this up, now they've begun, or there'll be more fusses than a few!"

"What do you mean?"

"Why, everybody'll have to have a birthday party, or the rest'll be jealous."

"Oh, yes, I see! But they couldn't do it for all."

"Then there'll be trouble! And I don't know as I should blame them any. Why should one of the family have all the good times and loads of presents, and nobody else have anything—huh!"

"It hasn't established a precedent by any means," asserted Miss Major.

"Indeed, it has! And they ought to have thought of that before they began."

"I doubt if any such thing ever occurred to Polly and Doodles," interposed Miss Sterling. "They were thinking only of giving Miss Lily a pleasant birthday. I am glad she had so many presents."

"Well, Mr. Randolph meant she should have enough candy for once, didn't he? A five-pound box certainly! If she eats it all herself, it'll make her sick! I don't suppose she ever had so much at one time before, and she won't use any judgment about it. It would have been in a good deal better taste to have given her a simple pound box."