CHAPTER XII.

NEW FORTUNES.

Sara went home with slow steps, and a questioning heart.

"Am I cold and proud?" she thought. "Is it wrong to be indifferent to these petty things about me, and to love books better than people? Do I look for defects rather than virtues, I wonder? Oh, dear; how much harder it is to _be_ right than to _do right in this hard world!"

She opened the cottage door, and saw a sight that drove away all other thoughts; for there sat Uncle Jabez Wanamead in close conversation with Morton, while Molly, open-mouthed, was holding baby, and drinking in every word. It was a great shock to Sara; for having returned to the battle with her brother, fresh-armed with authority, after Glendenning's departure, she had made such an impression upon him that she supposed he had entirely given up his dream of being a fisherman, and was now only thinking of a flitting to Boston. But, evidently, from his flushed, interested face at present all her labor was in vain. Uncle Jabez rose awkwardly as she entered, with a "Good-evenin', Sairay, thort I'd call 'round a spell."

"Good-evening," she said, constraining herself to be pleasant. "It is growing warmer out."

"Yaas, looks like a break-up, some, makes a feller think o' the Banks these days. Thort I'd see what Mort hed laid aout to do 'bout shippin' 'long o' me."

"He is not going," said Sara promptly. "I have other plans for him," with a beseeching look at the boy, who avoided her eye.

"Wall, in course, jest es ye say, but I do s'pose, ef Reub Olmstead was alive naow, his word would be go."

Sara winced. During all this struggle she had been cruelly hampered by her feeling that, possibly, she was acting entirely against what was likely to have been her dead father's wishes, and now this fear rose so strongly again as almost to paralyze her.

"If he were only here—if I could put the responsibility into his hands—if I had any one," she was saying to herself, when there came a thought that calmed her, as the mother's voice calms a frightened child. "I have a Father; why don't I put it in his hands?"

Her rigid face relaxed into a lovely smile, and, looking at her brother with the winning sweetness she could assume at times, she said,—

"I will say no more about this matter, Morton; you have only our heavenly Father to answer to now. Decide as you think is right. Uncle Jabez, will you give him till to-morrow?"

"Sartain, sartain; and, see here, my boy: I'm free to say I've urged ye to go, fur I need a clipper-built little feller like you; but I say naow, ef I hed as good a sister's you've got, I'd think twicet afore I went agin her, an' thet's the truth."

There was no mistaking his earnestness; and as he picked up his old tarpaulin, and shook hands with Sara in farewell, the respect and friendliness of his manner thrilled her with pleasure and surprise. After he had gone she talked lightly about other matters, had a frolic with Molly and the baby, helped Morton with his examples, and mended a coat of his which had come to grief, all as if there were not a care upon her mind, and indeed there was none; she had cast it on the Lord.

Morton was very quiet all the evening, but just before he mounted the steep steps to his chamber in the loft he came to her side.

"Sara," he said.

She looked up sweetly.

"I've decided." "Yes, Morton?"

"I'm going to stay at home."

"My dear, good brother!"

She drew him down and kissed him tenderly, while the tears stood in the eyes of both; and from that moment there was a new bond between them, stronger than the past had ever known.

One day some weeks later Morton came in with a large roll from the post- office, and threw it into Sara's lap.

"Ah!" she said eagerly, "it is Professor Grandet's hand; what can he have sent me?" and hurried to tear the wrapper open.

Inside were several articles in pamphlet form, two being his own composition, and the rest by another well-known scientist, all relating to the strata and minerals of this very portion of the coast. Being just then at leisure, she began one in which a certain sentence had caught her attention, and soon looked up with an air of excitement. "See here, Morton! This is certainly a mistake; and in B——'s paper, too," reading aloud a certain statement in regard to the rock formations about a mile inland. "He has, you see, made the same mistake we did at first in regard to the dip of that vein, and which we afterwards discovered to be wrong, when we came across the outcropping near the old Judd farm. Don't you remember?"

"Yes," said Morton, dropping his fish-lines to come nearer; "let's hear what he says about it."

She read him a page or two, and they talked the matter over still further; then she continued her reading, only to break out again after a little.

"Listen, Morton! Professor Grandet is with us. He isn't sure, but, from surface indications, he thinks just as we do, and the two men are having a great argument. They're going to discuss the matter next week before the Geological Society. Do you know, I'm half tempted to write Professor Grandet what we have discovered? It might make it perfectly clear to him."

"Well, I would," said Morton, going back to his lines, more interested in them than in what, had he known it, was to have a great and lasting influence on his own and sisters' lives.

So next day Sara seated herself, with an old atlas for a desk, and wrote with care and precision what she had to tell; then, directing the missive, she went to the old teapot in search of the two cents to pay its postage.

As she lifted the lid and peered in, a sigh escaped her, for the little store of silver and copper was getting low; soon it would be necessary to take another bill from the roll of greenbacks so carefully hoarded; and the thought alarmed her, for already it was greatly reduced in size; then, remembering the lesson of dependence she was trying to teach herself, she took out two of the pennies, and resolutely replaced the lid, resolving not even to think of what it was, apparently, beyond her power to remedy.

Yet she could not keep herself quite free from worry these days. Each change of season in our fickle climate means expense; and now the spring was coming on, bringing its especial needs, her feeling was often one of sick despair. It is so hard for the young to learn simply to wait; and poor Sara felt that, to make the outlay necessary for the reception of summer boarders, would actually impoverish them, and then—what if the boarders never came? The thought was appalling!

In this frame of mind she was putting on their frugal supper of dried herring, with baked potatoes and salt, a few weeks later, when Morton dashed in.

"My gracious, Sara! I believe you get more mail than even Squire Scrantoun. Just look at these!"

There was another roll, evidently pamphlets, and two letters,—one from Professor Grandet, the other in an unknown hand. She hurriedly opened the professor's, and struggled through its tangled and much abbreviated chirography, looking up finally with a pale, puzzled, yet radiant face. "I can't quite make it out. I think—it seems to say that my letter has done him much good; he says it was read before the society, and is printed somewhere."

"Perhaps it's in that paper book," suggested Molly, looking up from a shell box she was making.

"This? why, yes; I didn't think,"—tearing it open. "This seems to be a Report of the Twelfth Annual Meeting"—

"Oh, do look and see if it's got your letter in!" broke in impatient Molly, springing up, and letting her shells drop in a pearly shower to the floor.

Sara turned the leaves excitedly, then stopped; and her sweet face flushed a vivid crimson.

"It is—it is here—in print—just as I wrote it; and it says, 'Letter from Miss Sara Olmstead, of Killamet, in which the vexed question is definitely settled.'"

Many of us have experienced the tingling rapture of seeing our opinions in print for the first time; but it could be to few what it was to Sara, isolated, and of humble station as she was. It seemed as if that thrill of pleasure came from the very centre of her being, and tingled even to her finger-tips, while Morton and Molly, more demonstrative, if not more glad, danced about her with regular whoops of delight; after which the former mounted an uncertain chair for a rostrum, and read off the modest, concise, and clear little epistle with a flourish that ending in a crash, as the chair gave way, and landed him in the midst of Molly's shells, with crushing effect.

"Oh, oh!" laughed Sara, "do be careful;" while, with a scream of dismay, Molly fled to the rescue of her treasures.

Amid the hubub the excited girl had almost forgotten the other letter; but, as quiet was restored, she opened it, and read, with such astonishment as no words can depict, this business-like note:—

Miss Sara Olmstead:

Dear Madam,—On recommendation of Professor Grandet, after reading your letter lately published in the Twelfth Report of the M. G. and M. Society, I am empowered by the Board of Control of Dartmoor College to tender you a position in the Geological Department, as assistant to Professor Macon, in charge. The duties are not heavy,— mostly classification and correspondence,—and will only require your attendance six hours per diem. The salary is ten dollars per week. Please reply, stating your decision, as soon as possible, and address,

Yours truly,

J. G. ADAMS.

Sara looked up with something like awe.

"Morton," she said in a tone that almost frightened him, it was so solemn, "the Lord is taking care of us; we needn't have any more fear now, for we are safe with him."

I think few people sat down to a happier, though not many to a more frugal meal than theirs that night. Sara had not then a misgiving in regard to her fitness for the position; she was so filled with the impression of its being heaven-sent, that she felt, as did the apostles of old, that "words would be given her, what she should say," and wit also, what she should do. As to the salary, it seemed princely to these modest little folk; and the only wonder was, how they should ever spend it.

"But how will you manage about baby? I don't suppose they'd let him come to college," giggled Molly, with her mouth full of potato, at which she naturally choked, and had to be patted on the back by Morton, who perhaps performed the ceremony with more vigor than was necessary.

"There! there! Morton, gently dear. Now, Molly, don't speak again till you've swallowed your food. Of course I will have to find some good, trusty person to look after baby while I'm gone, for I mean you both to go to school every minute that you can."

The child made a wry face at this.

"And I just know they'll have it most a hundred weeks in a year; they always do in big cities, Hattie Felcher says so."

"No, they don't," said Morton promptly.

"Well, I guess she knows, Mort Olmstead! Her uncle lives to Boston, and"—

"Well, she don't, if she says that!" calmly boning his sixth herring.

"She does too!" red with excitement; "she was there visiting when she was a baby, and she"—

"Hush, Molly! Morton, why will you be so tantalizing? Think a minute, dear, and tell me how many weeks there are in a year; then you'll see what Morton means."

Molly, after an instant's calculation, saw the point, and shot a wrathful glance across the table.

"Well," she remarked, in a judicial summing up of the matter, "you may think you're smart, but that don't help your fare and hands from being so greasy they're just disgusting; and I don't care, so!"

"Neither do I," said Morton, calmly attacking his seventh herring, and his hot-headed little sister, as usual, was vanquished by his superior coolness and precision.

This time even Miss Prue was satisfied, and entered heartily into all the plans and arrangements for the flitting, while Morton forgot his own disappointment in the interest of this great change.

They were in the midst of the packing, Sara, Miss Prue, and Morton, with Molly guarding the baby, who had a savage desire to snatch at everything and destroy it, when the elder maiden laughed out,—

"Sara, I've a scheme; you can let the house as a summer cottage, instead of taking the boarders I once insisted upon. Now, come! Isn't that an idea?"

"If I can't sell it," said Sara.

"Of course, but then you can't. Nobody ever sells anything in Killamet except tobacco. I doubt if you could give it away!"

Sara smiled and sighed in a breath.

"I'd hate to do either, but I fear it will never be our home again, so why cling to it? But really, do you suppose any city family would be satisfied with this?" indicating the large, littered room with a sweeping gesture.

"Why not, just for the summer? They crowd into far more uncomfortable places, I'm sure. I can imagine this room with pretty rugs and cane chairs, and a hammock slung across the alcove, and a pinebough ablaze in the fireplace, being a most attractive nook some cool summer evening, after a long day of blue-fishing; and there's one nice bedroom besides the loft."

Sara shook her head dubiously.

"I wish some one would take it, but I'm afraid it will have to stay closed and useless. Molly, Molly! Do watch the baby; he's just starting for the best glass sugar-bowl with the hammer, and I think he has some tacks in his mouth."

Baby having been made to disgorge his too sharp repast, the talk ran on to other things, Miss Prue giving much valuable advice on "How to live on ten dollars a week;" but the sage maxims were so interspersed with hammerings, hunts, and hurry, that I fear much of their value was lost on Sara.

It happened to be a fair day when they left for the new home, and it seemed as if all Killamet turned out to bid them God-speed. They ate their last dinner with faithful Miss Prue, then, accompanied by a goodly little procession, walked down to the beach, where Jasper Norris, who had somehow happened home a few days before, was waiting with his tidy little wherry to row them across the bay to Norcross, where they would reach the railroad, their goods having been sent by wagon a day or two before. It was curious to see how differently each of the Olmstead group was affected by this leave-taking.

Sara was pale and still, and her beautiful, sad eyes heavy with unshed tears; Morton had an air of manliness new and good to see, and seemed determined to look after every one and everything; Molly's cheeks were red, and her eyes aglow with excitement, as her feet danced over the white sand, while baby laughed at the surrounding friends with charming impartiality, and talked every minute in his own particular dialect, which eye and motion made almost as intelligible as the queen's English.

At length they stood on the crescent beach, the sea rolling in at their feet, as Sara had watched it so many times. A fresh April wind curled the waves into fluffy white turbans (as Molly observed), and an April sun gave them an almost blinding sparkle. Each lighthouse gleamed whitely across the bay, and the tall cliff rocks stood out in bold relief against the dazzling blue of the sky; but Jasper saw it all as through a mist, for his heart was heavy.

What did this departure portend? Would it break up their life-long friendship? He was glad to see his mother take Sara's hand, and, as she kissed her tenderly, exact a promise that she would write occasionally.

But when the others crowded around, each eager for the last word, he turned away and busied himself with his tiller-rope, sick at heart. At last the good-bys were all said; Morton had taken his seat at the rudder, and Molly was nestled with baby on a cushion in the bottom of the taut little boat, when, just as Jasper was holding out a hand to help Sara aboard, she turned and gave a last, long, lingering look over the quaint little town in its radiant setting of sea and sky.

"Good-by, all—all I love!" she said brokenly, then turned to Jasper, and was soon silently seated in her designated place.

The young man, also silent, took up the oars to fit them into the rowlocks, when suddenly Molly was seen scrambling to her feet.

"Wait, Jap, wait!" she cried eagerly, and leaping over the seats, sprang lightly ashore.

"Why, what is it?" "Have you lost something?" "What can the child want?" were some of the questions showered after her from boat and beach, as she was seen to stoop and plunge a quickly bared arm into the water.

She drew it forth again, and held up something green and many-clawed.

"It's just a lobster I saw," she said calmly, as she climbed back to her place with the surprised crustacean gingerly suspended from her dripping hand. "We can boil it to-morrow, Sara, then I'll have the claws to suck; where shall we put it so't it won't grip the baby?"

The laughter called forth by this characteristic escapade effectually dispelled all tears and sadness.

Even Jasper grinned, as he handed the creature on to Morton, to be thrown into the bait-box under the stern-seat, and, amid lighter sallies and laughter, instead of tears, they rowed away. But Sara's eyes rested upon her well-loved birthplace until they had rounded the lighthouse, and the familiar scene was quite shut out by the intervening tongue of land.

It was about mid-afternoon when the little party entered the railway coach at Norcross; and this being Molly's first glimpse of a train of cars, her eyes would have put an owl's to shame for size and roundness, as she sat on the very edge of the seat, and stared uneasily about her.

Jasper, having fixed them comfortably, gave a hurried hand to each, leaving the last for Sara. He had thought a dozen times just what he would say to her at parting, but everything went out of his head in the nervousness of that last anxious moment, with the engine apparently determined to run away with all who would linger over their farewells, and he simply uttered a choked "Well, good-by, Sairay!" as he held her hand an instant in a trembling clasp.

"Good-by, Jasper, I shall not soon forget your kindness; but do hurry off before the train starts." So does the rush and rattle of modern times overpower romance and sentiment.

But, safe on the station platform, he watched the one window he cared for with misty eyes, while Sara on its other side felt that the last of home was leaving her, while before her stretched only a strange, untried, uncertain future.



CHAPTER XIII.

FROM KILLAMET TO DARTMOOR.

The train started with a shriek, faintly echoed by excited Molly, the bells clanged, belated men swung themselves up to the rear platform, there was the quick panting of impatient haste through the monster's whole length, till the jerks settled into a contented glide, and Molly's distressed puckers broadened into a smile of delight.

"It's like flying!" she gasped, turning from her intent gaze out of the window. "Everything's flying, only the trees and fences all go the other way. I tell you I like it!"

Dartmoor was about a three hours' ride distant, so it was not yet dark when they reached there, and were met by Madame Grandet, who had been in the college town with her husband for a fortnight. How good it was to see her charming face again! Sara felt the stricture of forlornness and fear about her heart loosen suddenly at sight of her.

"Here are you all then, quite safe and well!" she said merrily, as she took the baby from his sister's tired arms, "and I have a carriage for you; pray follow." They obeyed; and soon the party were driving through the broad, quiet streets, bordered by old elms and maples whose summer foliage must stretch a green canopy quite across them, thought Sara. She gazed about her, and was delighted with the comfortable, old-time look of the deep-verandaed houses, set solidly in the midst of green lawns, outlined by winding shell walks of dazzling whiteness.

Once she uttered a cry of pleasure, as they crossed a large green park interspersed by broad avenues, with a pile of gray stone buildings surrounding three of its sides, while elms of rare height and grace were scattered irregularly over its velvety surface.

"It is the campus that you now see," said the madame, answering the question in her eyes, "and those large buildings are of the college a part. Do you observe over this way, to our right, a wide, wide arch with a statue above? It is the entrance to the museum, in which you do work, and this beautiful street we drive upon, it is the College Avenue, and here are the homes of the faculty that we now pass."

"Do we live with the faculty?" inquired Molly, whose neck seemed in danger of dislocation, so constantly did she keep it twisting and turning.

"Ah! no, hardly so," laughed the madame; "it is on a little street that I do find apartments for you, but it is nice there; I do hope you will be pleasured."

"Oh, I'm sure we will! Baby dear, don't chew your pretty cloak-strings, you will spoil them. Ah! is this the place?" as they whirled around a corner and stopped shortly in a narrow but clean court, surrounded by small, trim cottages with tiny squares of green in front.

The madame led them up a gravelled foot-path—there were no fences—to a door in one of these, which she opened and entered.

"Follow, follow!" she called out merrily, and flitted up the narrow, uncarpeted stairway. She stopped at the head of this, and stood till all had gathered about her in the dim little hall-way, then, with a graceful flourish, cried, "Behold then!" and threw wide a door.

There was a universal shout of satisfaction, which made the madame's eyes dance, while Sara's grew misty with feeling; for that kind little Frenchwoman had almost settled their rooms for them, doing all an outsider could do, so that the bare, homeless look many of us can remember when newly entering a tenantless house, was quite removed.

After the first pause of surprise, the children began running wildly about, while the madame and Sara took it more leisurely. "See," said the former, "it is here your sitting room, with three pleasant windows, and a bit of a fireplace under this wooden mantel. When it is dressed with something bright it will not so bare seem. Here are two cosey bedrooms with the air and light, and a so large closet between, besides this cunning little bath-apartment, which I know you will much prize. Then here," throwing open a door, "is your kitchen, with two fine windows, and this tiny range. Is it not pretty?"

She ran about, showing its conveniences, and explaining how these apartment-cottages were built by a humane society, to furnish comfortable homes for those who had little means, ending:—

"And the rent, my dear, it is so small—so very small—only a little ten dollars a month!"

It did not seem small to Sara, but she would not damp the madame's enthusiasm by saying so; and in time she learned to appreciate, and be grateful for, this really cosey flat at so low a rental.

"The family below is very nice," said madame; "their name it is Hoffstott, and he is a little German baker of much baldness on his head, but greatly smiling and pleasant; the wife is about the same in her width as she is in her height, and laughs with a big mouth, and white teeth fine to see; and they have two little girls with yellow braids, like that candy of molasses Miss Zeba did have in her windows—and all so clean! Ah!" with a charming gesture, "it do shine through every room with soap and sand, and the brush that scrubs!"

"Dear me!" sighed Sara, "I'm afraid I can never suit them then; baby will get things around so!"

"Never do you fear of yourself, little princess!" tapping her gently on the shoulder. "I can still in my mind see your beautiful white floor and shining window-panes, down there by the sea. You, too, are clean, my sweet child, I know! Now, have you any supper had?"

"Why, no, not a bit!" laughing. "I had almost forgotten."

"Well, I hadn't," said Morton, "I'm about starved!"

"I, too!" cried Molly, and the baby put in a pathetic plea for "bed-e- mik" that was irresistible.

"Ah, such fun!" cried the madame merrily, as she whisked off her wraps. "I did think it would be so, and I had that good Hoffstott to send us a nice little tin kitchen that I now have hidden away in the warm oven; and see! I did take some dishes out of the barrel. We will have a supper to make a chef rave with envy soon!"

If it would hardly produce so dire an effect on a head-cook, it certainly gave supreme satisfaction to the partakers; for in the tin kitchen, which seemed to prying Molly like some Fortunatus box, was a dear little pot of baked beans, some steaming rolls, and potatoes baked in their jackets, while from a cooler place came a dainty glass of jam, and some cake.

It was now dark, and the children felt surrounded by wonders. As Molly expressed it, "Madame just turned a handle, and the light shot out; and turned another, and the water fell out;" and she asked, innocently enough, if, when they wanted milk or tea, all that people had to do here was just to move a handle, and let it run out of the wall! But madame, after her laughter, answered this by proceeding to steep some tea in an odd little contrivance over the gas-jet, much as Sara did over the log- fire at home; but neither Morton nor Molly would have been surprised to see food come sliding in, all cooked, or clothes all made, by the simple turn of a crank, so like fairyland was it all.

When, at length, the kind madame left them, Sara looked about her with an odd feeling, half forlorn, half thankful.

It was certainly a snug little haven, yet everything was so new and strange she felt as if she could never get used to it. But, during the next day or two, which was passed busily, getting the rooms into better shape, she gradually grew accustomed to the odd contrivances, and acknowledged their convenience. Mrs. Hoffstott came up, and kindly offered her services, and the baby took such a fancy to the good-natured German woman that he would hardly leave her for any one but Sara.

As to the little girls, they fraternized with Morton and Molly at once, and introduced them to their home below, and their father's shop on a neighboring street, before the day was over.

By Sunday morning—their flitting had been on a certain Thursday— everything was in excellent order, and Sara had begun to feel that the little flat was indeed home; so the blessed day was spent in the quiet and rest they all needed. As they sat around the tiny grate in the twilight, Morton looked slowly all about him. The room was square, with a large double window in front, and a single one at the side. By the madame's suggestion, and with her help, these windows and the mantel- shelf had been prettily draped with inexpensive material, which was, however, delicate in tint and pattern. Upon the floor was the only carpet Sara owned—old-fashioned, and perhaps too bright for artistic tastes, but looking warm and comfortable that chilly spring evening. Then there was a table, also draped, while the collection of minerals was conspicuous upon a set of shelves in one corner; and about the fire were a few home-cushioned chairs. Plain, to homeliness, as it was, yet the effect was so entirely one of brightness and comfort that Morton broke out with,—

"Well, Sara, this is pretty nice! Rather better than Uncle Jabez's old cabin on the Mary Jane, isn't it?"

"I'm so glad you think so, Morton! And I'm sure you will like school here. Mrs. Hoffstott has taken such a fancy to baby that she will take care of him for me until I can find some one else; so tomorrow we begin our education,—you and Molly and I."

"You, Sara? How funny! Why, you are through with yours, aren't you?"

"No, Molly, I sometimes think I am just beginning; and if you dread the starting in to-morrow, so do I! Bring the Bible, Morton, and let's read a chapter, to give us courage for the ordeal."

It was indeed an ordeal! After starting off the children, with the little Hoffstotts to pilot them, and seeing baby happy with some toys in their mother's trim kitchen, Sara put on her modest wraps, and walked briskly, not giving her courage time to weaken, from the little court toward College Avenue. At its farther end she was to meet Professor Grandet, who lived there in a professional boarding-house of intense respectability and learning, from whence he was to accompany her to the museum, a programme which had been arranged with Sara by himself and madame, when they had called Saturday evening.

She found him awaiting her in the doorway, beside his wife, who greeted her with a cheery word, and bade her, laughingly, have no fear, for she knew all about professors, and really, in most things, they were no wiser than common people! Then, laughing mischievously in her husband's face, she gave him a little push down the steps, which came near upsetting both his balance and his dignity. But before he could turn to remonstrate she was volubly bidding him not to go off into a brown study over some plesiosaurus, and forget all about his charge, or make a mistake and introduce her to the dinotherium, instead of Professor Macon; then, gayly waving her hand, she vanished behind the closing door.

"She has ze spirits zat are high—she!" he said with a smile, for everything this bonny wife did seemed good to him. "It is ze best sing zat it ees thus, for she ees much alone—la pauvre petite! Now, I must zis sing say to you, Mees Sara; it will not be allowed zat you keep zat mos' fine colleczione while ze college have you in employ—zat ees contraire to ze rule. What would you with it then? If you it will zell, I s'all be mos' happy to buy, eh?"

"Certainly, if it is against the rule to keep it; but that seems queer!"

"But no, it ees quite right, you zee? Ze collecziones mus' be for ze college—all—no private ones; it will not do."

"Yes, I see; all must work for the general good when making a collection."

"Yes, yes, it ees so."

They were now passing into the museum building, whose wide and lofty corridors sent a thrill of awe through the impressionable girl. Feeling very small and young, she followed the professor over the tiled floors, then through two or three large apartments filled with strange looking beasts and birds of a startling naturalness, past long glass cases, where she caught hasty glimpses of everything possible in shell, bone, stone, or mineral, then across a narrow corridor, where the professor stopped and tapped at a door.

"Enter!" was called loudly from within, and they obeyed.

It was a bright, sunny room they stepped into, not large, in comparison with those they had passed through, though here, too, were smaller glass cases, as well as tables heaped with jars and specimens, and two knee- hole desks of fair size.

From one of these a gentleman advanced; not a large man, but having a fine head and face. His black hair was thrown carelessly back from a broad white forehead, while his mouth and chin were concealed under a full dark beard. His eyes, of the same dusky hue, peered keenly through glasses.

"Professor, here I have mine leetle vriend, Mees Sara Olmstead; and zis, Mees Sara, ees ze good man with whom you do vork, Professor Macon."

The professor and his new assistant shook hands, while the latter felt she herself was being classified and labelled by those penetrating orbs.

"I'm happy to meet Miss Olmstead; pray be seated. Don't hurry away, Professor Grandet; can't you sit down a while, also?"

"Not zis morning, t'anks; I haf mooch to do. Well, Mees, I leaves you in good hands; au revoir."

"Good-morning; and thank you," said Sara timidly.

"Thou art mos' velcome; adieu!" and with a flourish of his hat he was gone.

"You may take off your wraps in here, if you please, Miss Olmstead," said Professor Macon, leading the way to a small cloak-room; then, as she returned unbonneted, he pointed to the desk near his own.

"This is your place, and for this morning your work will be labelling these specimens. When you are the least uncertain about one, speak to me, please. You will find everything needed before you." He returned to his own work, and Sara soon grew absorbed in hers; for it was the kind of task she liked, and had often spent hours over, for pure amusement. How it brought back the shore and the cliffs! The long rambles inland, also, and the evenings on the floor amid her specimens, down before the drift-wood fire. She forgot her surroundings finally, so interested was she; and once the professor, glancing up, smiled a little at sight of the bent head and eager, intent face. He watched her, unperceived, for some seconds, then, with a nod of satisfaction, returned to his own labors.

The three morning hours passed as one in this congenial labor, then there was the brisk walk home to meet the children at a light lunch, and look after baby. She found the little fellow supremely contented with his new quarters, having made loving advances to a gray kitten who, though suspicious of his favors, was too meek to escape them; and Mrs. Hoffstott declared he had been "so goot as nefar vas!" The older children were voluble over their school, Morton talking most of the great, cheerful rooms, with their wonderful conveniences for study; while Molly expatiated at large over a little girl with the euphonious name of Henrietta May Hendrington, with whom she seemed to have fallen rapturously in love!

Half-past one found them all at work again, and the afternoon hours were even shorter than those of the morning to all but baby, who began to grow homesick towards four o'clock, and who could not be comforted, even by the children, who were out of school at three. He wanted his "Wawa," and no one else. It was really pathetic to see how the little fellow clung to her, hiding his pretty wet eyes in her neck, and lovingly patting her shoulder, as he crooned his wordless reproaches in her ear, and Mrs. Hoffstott, looking on, thought this must indeed be a good sister to win such hearty affection, and felt her own motherly heart warm to the forlorn little orphaned brood. But, as Sara climbed the steep staircase, with the child clasped close, and opened the door of their little snuggery above, her heart was full. How had the loving Father cared for his children! Here she was, a princess indeed, in her own domain, surrounded by her loving subjects; and when she shut the door she seemed to shut out sorrow and care, for here all was peace.

How they enjoyed the nice hot supper, and the visit afterward, baby in Sara's lap, warming his pink toes before the bit of a blaze, which these chill nights of early spring demanded! Then, when the little fellow was in bed, out came the books, and all was still, as Molly hunted out lakes and rivers, Morton puzzled over fractions, and Sara revelled in Owen, ready at any moment to give her help to the younger ones.

Perhaps some dainty miss of eighteen, enjoying her first winter in "society," and counting up her bouquets and admirers after last night's party, might think it too tame an existence; but to Sara, reared amid toil, privation, and loneliness, it was a veritable bit of Eden.

It could not be expected that such a beautiful girl as Sara could cross the campus several times a day, and pass unobserved by the hundreds of students who felt this to be their special stalking-ground; and finally, one morning when an unusual number of graceless young "Sophs" and "Freshes" were on guard there, she was subjected to so many stares, smiles, touchings of the hat, and half-heard remarks, that she entered the workroom with flushed cheeks and a perturbed manner which could not well escape the professor's keen eyes.

"You have walked too fast, Miss Olmstead; there is no such hurry these sunny mornings."

"It isn't that, sir; I—it is not agreeable crossing the campus."

"Ah!" with a lift of the eyebrows and a quizzical look at the lovely disturbed face before him. "I can well believe it! Well, there's a better way, if you would like to try it; at least a more secluded one," giving her a keen glance. "When you come down College Avenue, watch till you see a large brown house with a tower, and a porch with heavy pillars"—

"Oh, yes, sir; and a deep green lawn in front; I've often noticed it."

"Very well," smiling agreeably, "that's my home. Turn in at the carriage-drive, and follow it until you see an opening in the hedge; go through, and keep to the little foot-path; it will bring you here, for it's my own private way."

"Thank you," said Sara, "I will be very glad to use it," and seated herself at her desk in the business-like way she was acquiring, much to the professor's secret amusement.

That noon, as he sat opposite his wife at table, he said,—

"Marian, I want you to look out of the window about a quarter past one, and you will see a rara avis."

"Goodness! Henry, you're not having any of those horrid dinornis things brought to the house, are you?"

He laughed.

"No, my dear; this rare bird I have in mind is simply a handsome girl, who doesn't enjoy being stared at by the students,—in a word, my little helper, Miss Olmstead,—and I've told her to travel by my own cross- roads, because she comes in all of a flutter, mornings, after running the gantlet of those college scamps on the campus."

His wife gave a quick, appreciative nod. She was a pale, dark-eyed woman, with a face of rare intelligence and sweetness.

"Indeed I do want a peep at her, Henry; she's the fisher-girl with the family on her hands, that Madame Grandet told us about, isn't she?"

"Yes, the same; let me give you another croquette, wife." "No, thanks; I've sufficient. And how does she appear, very provincial?"

"Not at all, that I can see, unless to be modest as a violet, and business-like as a night-editor, be provincial. She speaks good English, and sensible, too, in a peculiarly pleasing voice, and has the most finished manners, to my notion; for she goes quietly about her affairs without fuss or remark, and says what there is to say in brief, clean words. No, she is anything but outre."

"Really, my dear, I never heard you praise a woman so highly before."

He smiled quietly.

"I neither praise nor dispraise, Marian; they are, with one notable exception simply out of my ken, ordinarily; but I like this little girl, where she is, unusually well."

"Be sure, then, I shall watch for her with all my eyes! Don't forget your papers, dear; oh, and turn your pockets inside out at once, please, till I see if you have any of my letters yet undelivered!"

He obeyed with a matter-of-course air, which showed this to be a common occurrence with the absent-minded scientist, and having yielded up two dainty, square missives, which he had not carried more than two days, took his departure.

An hour later Sara turned in at the designated carriage-drive, and followed its windings up near the house, then off towards the dividing hedge, never seeing two bright, interested eyes which were peering through the filmy lace curtains, and taking pleased note of her trim, erect figure in its black dress, and lovely, thoughtful face, below its plain straw hat; then passed through the hedge, and, with all the delight of a child exploring some bit of woodland, followed the well- worn little path, which crossed a corner of the next yard, then skirted a tennis-court, wound by a rather suspicious-looking dog-kennel, then led into an unused grassy lane, reminding her so gently of home that she longed to linger; but, pressing on in her narrow way, she finally brought up before a gray stone pile, in which was a small door, and, opening it with some caution, found herself in the tiny square entry just back of the familiar cloak-room.

Professor Macon took in her pleased face at a glance.

"You liked my little by-way?" he asked.

"Immensely!" with a hearty accent. "May I always use it?"

"Most assuredly!" and without more words both bent to their absorbing tasks.



CHAPTER XIV.

NEW FRIENDS, NEW DUTIES, AND A NEW LOSS.

The sale of Sara's collection to Professor Grandet brought her a neat little sum, with which she added a few much-needed articles of furniture to her rooms, making them more modern and comfortable; and through Mrs. Hoffstott she finally succeeded in finding a trusty little girl, who was glad to come during the hours of Sara's absence to tend baby and do the left-over bits of work for the pittance she could afford to pay. Even this left a perilously small amount for the house expenses, and the clothing of the four; but the latter necessity was made easier by Madame Grandet and Miss Prue, both of whom found they had many articles too good to throw away. The latter had pressed enough of these upon Sara, during the packing, to make Molly and herself quite comfortable, for, as Miss Prue always wore black, her dresses were suitable now; and, the madame had come to the rescue with some of the professor's cast-off trousers for Morton's use.

It was one Saturday afternoon, and Sara, consequently, at home by three o'clock, when she stood, armed with a pattern and some formidable- looking shears, about to attack a light gray pair of these, when there came a quick little "rat-tat-tat" at the door.

"Open it, Molly," she said abstractedly, thinking it might be either Kathie or Grisel; but instead of the round pink and white face and yellow braids she looked for, there appeared a tall lady, richly dressed, whose pale, fine countenance was quite unfamiliar.

The lady advanced.

"This is Miss Olmstead, I know; and I am Mrs. Macon. I have often seen you through the window at home."

Sara greeted her with a blush, and drew forward the best chair, inwardly experiencing a deep regret that she had not changed the baby's pinafore, and had kept her cutting operations in the parlor.

Mrs. Macon, however, seemed to notice neither, but praised the baby's pretty rings of hair, saying he reminded her of one of Raphael's cherubs, and asked Molly about her school, taking in, with evident amusement, the child's original answers, and little twists and tosses, till Sara could recover her equanimity, and be her own quiet self once more. Then she turned to her with some word of commendation for her laborious life, and added, with a light laugh,—

"You looked quite fierce with your great scissors as I came in. It wasn't the baby's hair you thought of cutting, I hope?" "Oh, no, indeed! I wouldn't cut his dear little curls for anything! I was trying to—to cut out some pants for Morton."

"You poor child! What a genius you must be to attempt it! Do you think you can?"

The tone of perfect camaraderie seemed to drive away the last vestige of Sara's shyness.

"I have once or twice at home, but it's different here: the boys dress better, you see, and Morton's getting very particular. I've a good pattern, but I do feel a bit frightened to put my scissors into the goods."

"Of course you do," rising, and going over to the table to look at the pattern pinned carefully over the old garment. "But, my dear, couldn't you cut to better advantage by turning this a little? Here, let me show you."

With a rapid movement she unfastened and cast aside the jetted lace wrap she wore, and filling her mouth with pins, after the manner of womankind, began mumbling her explanations, as she turned and twisted the paper about, Sara, meanwhile, looking on with the earnestness of a priestess of Athene, listening to her oracle.

Months of meeting in fashionable parlors could not have made them so intimate as those ten minutes over that pattern, while their heads bobbed together, and their tongues ran on in unison. For when it was adjusted, Mrs. Macon insisted on superintending the cutting, and when this was satisfactorily accomplished, to the exclusion of the one worn place, and the ink-spatters, she was as elated as Sara herself.

"There! We've done it, we've done it! Now, if you only get them together right; you're sure you'll remember which is the front, and which the back, and when you stitch them—where's your machine?"

"I haven't any," said Sara.

"Dear heart! And were you going to sew those long seams by hand?"

Sara nodded deprecatingly, as much as to say she knew it was wrong not to have a machine, but she couldn't help it; and her visitor was so charmed with the look in her sweet eyes, that she gave her cheek a playful little tap as she said,—

"It's not to be thought of! I've an excellent machine which stands useless half the time; you shall come and learn to use it: this will be just the thing to begin on. Why can't you come now? I'm anxious to see them underway, and, besides, I haven't a doubt Morton needs them; boys always are needing new trousers!"

Sara had to acknowledge that he did; and the upshot was, that in less time than it takes to tell it, baby was turned over to Molly, and Sara, with her bundle, found herself in Mrs. Macon's carriage, riding home with her, to the astonishment of the coachman, who had been preparing his mind for a long, sleepy afternoon on the box, while his mistress consulted her list, and made her formal visits. The fact is, she had forgotten all about them; just now the most interesting thing in her rather monotonous life was Sara and those trousers. An acquaintance begun in this manner could never be quite formal again. Mrs. Macon was warm-hearted, and often-times weary of doing nothing in her great silent, childless house. She adopted Sara and her little brood from that moment, and to be adopted by Marion Macon was to fall into good and gracious hands.

She led Sara, now, straight to the sewing-room, in which was the machine, throwing wide the blinds of the broad window before which it was placed.

"Did you ever use one?" she asked anxiously, as she removed the cover.

"Yes, once or twice. Miss Plunkett had one."

"Miss Plunkett; that's a name I know. I have heard my mother mention a Captain Plunkett she knew as a girl; they were a good family, the Plunketts. Then you know them?"

Sara spoke of the life-long friendship between that family and her own, but in so modest a way that the lady's respect for her increased with every word; but both were too intent on business to give much time to genealogy.

Sara proved an apt learner, and soon was making the treadle fly, while her hostess, seeing her well underway, ran down-stairs for a time. When she came back Sara had performed the cunning task of getting the pockets in place, and was finishing off the long seams.

"How rapidly you work!" cried her new friend. "My husband told me how business-like you were."

"Did he say so? I'm glad he thinks I am!" cried Sara, much pleased. "It would be so annoying to a man like him if I were not."

"And why to him especially, Miss Olmstead?" asked the wife curiously.

"Because he is absorbed in his work, and cares for nothing outside. In fact, one always is with that work," enthusiastically; "it takes your whole being for the time."

"Yet the last girl he had was a dreadful little idler, and would interrupt him in the midst of his most interesting researches to ask the silliest questions."

Sara shook her head mournfully. "I don't see how she could!"

"Well, to tell the truth," bending forward confidentially, "isn't it awfully dry and uninteresting? There! I wouldn't dare lisp it before my husband, but isn't there a good deal of—of—well, humbug, about it?"

"Humbug!" Sara's eyes glowed. "That's because you haven't studied these things, Mrs. Macon. Think, think what it must be to have your husband's power to peer into the past!

"Think of taking two or three bones, and from them constructing an animal now extinct; or, think of knowing from an impress on a stone, made years ago, what animal had walked over its then soft surface. Humbug! oh, Mrs. Macon!"

The lady laughed.

"Well, don't for mercy's sake, ever hint that I suggested such a thing; I see you're nearly as far gone as Henry himself. But, as for me, I must say I can't get specially interested in post-pliocene things, when there's so much going on around us; and how you, with all those children to look after, and their clothes to make, can care for fossils and bones, and bits of rock and mineral, is a conundrum to me."

"I hope I don't neglect the children for the bones," said Sara, so deprecatingly that Mrs. Macon laughed again.

"Don't worry about that! They look all right, anyhow, what I've seen of them. Now come, it's getting too dark to sew, and you have these nicely together; fold them up, child, and come down-stairs with me."

This was the first really elegant house Sara had ever entered; and as she followed the lady over the soft carpets, past bronze and marble, into a beautiful room, through whose western end, wholly of glass, came a rosy glow from the setting sun, she could hardly keep back her cry of delight. It was the dining-room, and seemed dazzling to Sara, with its rich tones in wall and rug, its buffet a-glitter with glass and silver, and its green garlanded windows; but her native instincts were nice, so it was only in her eyes that this astonished admiration found expression.

Mrs. Macon made a careless gesture towards the table, which was partly laid.

"Sit down, my dear," she said, "and we will have a bit of a supper together; Mr. Macon has gone into the city, and won't be back until a very late dinner. How do you take your tea, please?"

It was a delectable little spread, nearly all the dishes being novelties to Sara, even the familiar lobster being scarcely recognizable in its Frenchy dress; but she felt the refinement and delicacy of it all, as an infant feels the softness of velvet, not comprehending, only enjoying.

In speaking of it afterwards to the children she remarked,—

"I can't tell you what it was, for I have eaten meals I really relished better; but it was there, and I have never experienced it anywhere else, not even at Miss Prue's. It seemed as if I were in a palace, with soft music and sweet odors about me; yet there was no music, and the only fragrance was from the tea. No, I can't tell what it was; but sometime— sometime, Molly, I hope you will feel it too!"

"Well, if it's going to make me feel solemn and creepy I don't want to," said that young damsel with decision. "That's the way I felt the first few Sundays in the church we go to here; it was so big and high, and had so many colors on the walls, and such dark, purple corners. I kept expecting something to happen; but I'm getting over it a little, for nothing ever does, you know, except the preaching and singing. Only, Sara, that reminds me: there's one thing I've been going to ask you about this ever so long; are the singers all hunchbacks, like Zeba Osterhaus?"

"Dear me! no, Molly, I hope not. What a question!"

"Well, then, what makes them hide so behind those red curtains? I've tried and tried to see if they were like other folks, but I couldn't; and if they are, I don't see why they act so queer!"

Sara tried to explain, but Molly evidently still held to her original opinion; there was some mysterious reason for their modesty, else why did they not stand out plain and high, as did the village choir at home? And it was many weeks before she could be moved from her stand in the matter.

Sara's work went on much the same after the close of the collegiate year, though now Professor Macon was away a large part of the time; yet, as he was constantly sending home cases of specimens, she was usually kept nearly as busy as before. But one day, sitting at her desk with only a few unimportant odds and ends of work before her, her thoughts drifted away, and soon formed themselves into words and sentences which seemed clamoring for definite expression. She seized her pen and some blank paper, setting them down as rapidly as possible, and before she quite realized what she was about had written several pages. Finally, stopping to glance over her work, she felt encouraged to continue it, which she did till her working-hours were over. That night more thoughts came to her, and the next day she completed the article. Reading it over, and correcting it carefully, she decided to copy it; and, while the impulse was upon her, even had the audacity to enclose it in an envelope and send it to a certain magazine having scientific tendencies, which came to the museum regularly.

It was an article describing some oolitic formations she had been much interested in when at the old home; and she told of her ramblings, speculations, and discoveries, in a modest, face-to-face way which gave them a certain interest in addition to their scientific value.

Several days passed, and she had given up her fledgeling for lost, when one morning she saw amid the mail upon the professor's desk an envelope addressed to herself, and opening it found with astonishment that it was an acceptance of her sketch, enclosing a check for what seemed to her a large amount. That, she often said afterwards, was the proudest moment of her life. Her whole frame thrilled with keenest satisfaction, her whole soul was uplifted in thanks for this gift that seemed directly from above.

The professor, back from his trip, entered just then, saw the glow on her face, and looked the inquiry he would not speak. But Sara understood the look.

"I have been much pleased," she explained, "by this." and handed him the enclosure.

"What! Really an article in the Science Made Popular? Well, Miss Olmstead, you are to be congratulated!" holding out his hand with great cordiality. "May I ask what you wrote about?"

She told him, and he nodded vigorously.

"Very good, very good! I shall watch for its appearance; and now I've a proposition to make you. Would you like to study Latin and French?"

"I?" gasped Sara.

"Yes; they are much needed in our work, as well as German and Greek; but there must be a beginning. I have all the books you will need, and will hear your Latin recitation every morning. It won't take long, and I'm sure Madame Grandet will help you with the French."

"But they're going away soon, are they not?"

"He is, but she has half decided to remain. It's so delightfully quiet here in summer, and only a short run to the seashore; besides, she likes her boarding-place."

Sara's eyes shone.

"I think every one is very good to me," she said softly.

"Heaven not only helps those who help themselves, but earth, too, Miss Olmstead; which is only another way of saying that real effort always brings appreciation. Now we'll take hold of that last case I sent, if you please. I'll bring your books this afternoon—or, no; better stop in and let Mrs. Macon give them to you; she always enjoys a visit, you know."

But pleasure and pain always keep as close together as light and shadow; and while everything seemed going so prosperously with Sara in the business of her life, there came a new worry at home. Baby was evidently ailing. Each morning it became harder to leave that supplicating little face, and she would turn back to reiterate cautions to Molly, who, being out of school now, saved the extra expense of the little nurse-girl. Even after she had actually torn herself away from the fretful baby voice begging pitifully,—

"No go, Wawa; 'tay baby!" she would stop below at Mrs. Hoffstott's door to beg, almost with tears, that she would look after things a little, and not let flighty Molly neglect the child; which the good woman was always ready to do. Those were anxious days, which even the madame's and Mrs. Macon's kindness could not wholly relieve.

And they were very kind. The latter often took the two children to drive, while the former brought baby dainties and toys to brighten his languid eyes.

A doctor was finally called, who said his ill feelings were entirely owing to his teeth, and left some mild powders for him to take. But there came a night when he was so feverish and flighty that Sara dared not leave him in the morning, so sent a note by Morton to the professor, stating the reason for her absence. The latter read it carefully, said a sympathizing word or two to the boy, who plainly showed his concern, then added kindly,—

"Tell her not to worry at all about the work till the little one is quite well enough to be left; there is nothing pressing just now; and supposing you stop at the house as you go by, and let Mrs. Macon read this note. She is fond of the child."

"Yes, sir," said Morton, and was about to start on his return, when the gentleman arrested him.

"Stay," he said, "what are you doing since school closed? Are you working at anything?"

"Not much, sir; I'm helping Mr. Hoffstott in the bakery, carrying home orders on his busy days: it doesn't take all my time though."

"I suppose you are used to the management of boats; you can row or sail one?"

"Oh, yes, sir!" his eyes lighting.

"Very well, I may have a proposition to make you soon, that's all. Be sure and stop at Mrs. Macon's."

Morton obeyed, but only to find her gone into the neighboring city on a shopping excursion, so hurried on to deliver his kindly message from the professor, wondering all the way what that wise gentleman could have meant by his remark about the boat.

But when he reached home all these thoughts fled; for he found Molly just descending the stairs, crying bitterly; and when he asked what was the matter she only gave her hands a desperate wring and sobbed,—

"Oh, the baby! the baby! Where does that doctor live, anyhow?"

Hurrying in he found Sara, her eyes wild with trouble, and Mrs. Hoffstott, fairly purple with consternation, both trying frantically to bring the child out of a spasm.

"Oh, run, run for the doctor, Morton!" cried his sister. "Baby's getting worse, I'm sure; and Molly doesn't know the way."

Morton did run, but alas! it was of no avail. The poor little fellow had one moment of consciousness, in which he feebly tried to pat Sara's colorless cheek and murmur, "Wawa deah!" then the beautiful eyes rolled back, set and glassy, the limp, dimpled hand dropped on his breast, and the sweet baby life was over.

Sara gave a heart-rending cry, which reached Morton and the doctor, now hurrying up the stairs; and when they entered she was calling piteously upon the little one with every loving term her tongue was used to.

The doctor drew her gently away.

"He is gone," he said with solemn emphasis; "his sufferings are over! Madam," to Mrs. Hoffstott, "pray take her away for a time; her nerves are all unstrung."

That good woman led the half-fainting girl below, and at once despatched Grisel for Madame Grandet and the minister of the church the Olmsteads attended, who were shortly there, doing their best for the grief- stricken little household; while in the evening both Professor and Mrs. Macon came, the latter much grieved that she had been away when Morton called.

All was done that could be done; and Sara, even in her grief, which was for the time almost overwhelming, so deeply had this one of her cares and responsibilities taken a hold upon her nature, was surprised at the number of friends who seemed to have sprung up around them. She did not know that the story of her love and her struggles had passed from mouth to mouth, and that for the moment she was a heroine in their estimation. Nor did she know, till days later, that the lovely little blanket of white roses which wrapped the tiny white casket in its soft fragrance, was the gift of some of those very students who had brought the blushes to her cheek by their too pronounced admiration.

It softened her grief to find so much genuine friendliness and good-will in the hearts of even the strangers about her; and when she wailed for baby through the lonely nights, so sadly missing the clasp of his warm, soft arms about her neck, there was no bitterness mingled with her sorrow.

"He has gone to his mother," she wrote Miss Prue. "I sometimes think she must have longed for him even in heaven; and I hope she knows that, if I ever neglected him, it was only because I felt compelled."

To which the good spinster answered,—"You have never neglected him, Sara; to that I am ready to bear witness. If God has seemed to bereave you, it is because he sees it is best; meanwhile, take comfort in this: you have been tenderer than many mothers, and more patient than many sisters, to this dear little brother who loved you so well, so do not let self-reproach add to your sorrow."

The words were a comfort, as they were meant to be; for, with the girl's supreme conscientiousness, she had been torturing herself for fear she had not done all that was possible for her dear one; and, as Miss Prue's word had always been law with her, so now she let it heal this unnecessary smart.



CHAPTER XV.

MORTON HAS A PICNIC.

The professor was almost fatherly kind to her when she took her place again at the familiar desk; and, seeing how fragile and weary she looked, gave her but short, light tasks through those long, hot summer days.

Nothing was said about renewing the so soon interrupted lessons for several days, then Sara herself remarked half timidly,—

"I have begun my studies again, sir, it is so lonely, and there is so little to do at home," her voice faltering.

He gave her a pleased look.

"That is right; the best thing for you! Work, my child, is not a curse, but a blessing to sorrowful man. Study,—write too. I happen to know they are ready to accept another article from you in Science Made Popular; I am acquainted with its editor. Why don't you give him some more of your rambles?"

Her sad eyes brightened. After all, there was something within her which no grief, no bereavement, could entirely affect. "I will," she said; "I will pick myself up and begin over again."

"That's right. And try some walks here, Miss Olmstead; you'll find much of interest out on the old road leading west, for instance. You need more fresh air and exercise, I'm thinking."

Sara took his advice, with much benefit to her health, as well as gain to her information and purse; for she found that "knowledge is wealth" in more ways than one.

Morton had been such a good, helpful boy ever since their arrival in Dartmoor, that Sara was almost as glad as he when the professor's thought about the boat was finally unfolded, and proved to be a proposition that the lad should accompany him on a geological expedition down a certain river not far away.

He wanted Morton to help in managing the boat, as well as in foraging for extra game and provisions along the route, and watching the stores, while he studied, sought, and speculated over his stony treasures; for all of which the boy should receive a certain consideration in money, not to mention the fun.

"Just think, Sara, to be paid, actually paid, for having the biggest kind of a picnic," he cried rapturously. "Now, who cares for the Mary Jane?"

For the next two days all was hurry and confusion, as he and Molly ran errands, packed and planned, with Sara to advise and help; and the third saw the grand start.

As the river was at some distance, the first stage of the journey must be made by land (a great drawback in Morton's opinion, but still to be borne with patience because of what was to follow), so the boat was mounted on a cart, and packed full of the camping apparatus, amid which the professor and the boy sat in state, while a grinning Hibernian drove the mild animal in front.

The professor, with his glasses, his white helmet and tennis-shirt, and a butterfly-net hung over his shoulder, was quite Oriental and picturesque; while Morton, with a broad straw hat on his cleanly shaven head, and a blue blouse belted with leather, enjoyed the thought that he looked like a cowboy, and perhaps he did: I've seen cowboys who did not look half so well.

At any rate, he felt as free and joyous as one, and rode away with a ringing cheer, echoed shrilly by Molly, who was wild to go herself, and could only be appeased by the promise of a real picnic with the Hoffstotts in the near future.

"Oh, dear!" she said, on the verge of tears, as the long boat-cart swung out of sight around the corner, and was lost to view, "it's dreadful to think I've always got to be a girl, and I may have to live a hundred years."

"Well, my dear, console yourself, then," replied Sara, "for you won't be a girl even ten years longer."

"I won't?"

"No."

"Now, Sara Olmstead, how do you know that? Oh, yes, you're joking me, somehow; I can see by your eyes, for of course nobody knows when I'm going to stop living."

"How old are you, Molly?"

"Why, I'll be thirteen in eleven months."

"That is," with a laugh," you were twelve last month; now in ten years how old will you be?"

"Let's see," bringing her fingers into play, "aught's an aught, and two's two," marking that down with her index finger in her left palm, "then one and one is two, why, that's twenty-two, isn't it?"

"Really, Molly, I'm ashamed of you to be so slow in adding."

"Well, I never did like addition, it's substraction I'm so smart in."

"Yes, it must be substraction, I think," sarcastically.

"Yes, that's it," with entire oblivion of her sister's accent; "and now I begin to see, when I'm twenty-two I won't be a girl?"

"Hardly."

"Yes; but I'll be a woman, and that's worse, isn't it? Oh! there's Kathie, and she's got some cookies that are too dry to sell; I'm going to help her eat them," with which laudable purpose away she ran, to forget the limitations of her sex in an operation dear to both.

About a week later came this letter from Morton.

DEAR SARA AND MOLLY,—As I'm all alone, with nothing to do, and the gnats won't let me sleep, and I've got more than we need to eat, so it's no good to hunt or fish, I thought I'd start a letter, and when I get to a post-office again I'll mail it. To begin at the beginning, we launched the Bonny Doon about two o'clock, and at once set sail for the south (we really poled the boat along, for there wasn't a breath of wind, and it was hardly deep enough to keep her afloat; but it sounds better to say "set sail," you know), and were making about four knots an hour, when I saw the professor open a long wooden box I had noticed among the outfit, and take out a gun, all in sections, and begin to put it together. That made me feel better, for I was really afraid he had forgotten how useful a gun is out camping; and I was so taken up watching him fit it together that I almost forgot my poling, till he suddenly sung out, for all the world like a regular sailor, "Hard a-port, lad! Mind your course there, or we'll be swamped," and, sure enough, I had to swing her out into the stream, or we'd have run aground.

But that was the end of the marshes, and then we did rig up our sail, and 'twas a fine old fly, I tell you. My, how I enjoyed it! The breeze had come up a little, and sent us cutting through the water as slick as your big knife cuts through a loaf of bread. We didn't stop at all, till it was time to make camp, and then we had a real good time, for the professor is just like a boy here.

He cut saplings for tent-poles, and showed me how to make the pins, and fasten down the canvas, then we built a nice little fire, and put our camp-stove over it. It is nothing but a big piece of stove-pipe, I should think, with a griddle on top, but works first-rate; and then we got supper together. You ought to see his camp-chest, Sara! It isn't much bigger than that old desk Miss Prue gave you, but it has everything in it, I should think; and there isn't an inch of waste room. I found everything I needed to set the table with, and we had canned things, and biscuit and cheese and coffee, and lots of nice things to eat. Then I washed the dishes (I'm real glad now, that I learned at home, for the professor said I did it as neatly as a girl), and then he went off, poking around with his hammer, and I fished. You don't know much about fishing with a jack-light, do you? It's good fun. I caught enough for breakfast, nice little perch they were, and then we lay down on our blankets, stretched over pine-boughs in the tent, with mosquito-netting over all the openings, and slept like two tops.

Yesterday we had lots of adventures. First thing, I woke up just in time to save our provisions from some hogs which had smelled us out, and came down on us in a regular drove; and they got us so wide awake we concluded to stay up, though it wasn't really morning yet. But you don't know how good our fried fish did taste! I ate till I was ashamed, and then finished the bits in the spider; and I could have eaten as many more, I guess. Then I cleared everything up ready to break camp, while the professor went off again, and then he came back, and we embarked. This was about six bells, I think. We hadn't gone more than two knots when the boat began to slip along so easy and fast I couldn't understand it, till the professor sung out,—

"We're coming to a dam! Put her about, quick!"

Then he grabbed the oars and rowed with all his might for shore. It seemed at first as if we would be swept along in spite of ourselves; but he's got more strength in his arms than I'd thought for, and then, luckily, a great tree had fallen clear out into the stream, which I reached for. I threw myself almost out of the boat, just holding by the toes, and caught hold of a little twig, then a stronger one, and pulled the boat an inch at a time till we were safe alongside in a perfect little haven. Then the professor dropped the oars, took off his helmet, and wiped his face, for he was dreadfully warm; but he only said,—

"That was a little close, Morton; now we'll have to make a portage."

Well, that wasn't so much fun. I hadn't thought, before, we had one thing more than we needed, but now it seemed as if we had a thousand. Sara, it took us four hours to make that portage, and my back hasn't got over aching yet!

We managed to get two men to help us with the boat, but that was only a small lift, it seemed to me; and I was glad enough when the professor said we'd take a rest before we went on. But the dinner braced us up a good deal; one thing we had was some roasted green corn one of the men told us to pick in his field, and it was awfully good, but not up to the fish. Then I stayed to watch camp while the professor went hunting for more stones and things, and then I had the biggest adventure of all. But I'll have to tell you about that in my next letter, if I come across any paper, for this is all I've got.

Yours truly,

Morton. It came in due time, fortunately for Molly's welfare and Sara's comfort, as the child was so consumed with curiosity over the adventure that she gave her no rest from questions and conjectures. Here it is:—

DEAR SARA AND MOLLY,—I think I stopped because I was out of paper, and so didn't tell you about the tramps. There were three of them, and I never saw worse looking men.

I was sitting reading one of the books we brought, when I thought I heard something, and looked around just in time to see them come towards me out of the woods. I felt my heart leap right up, for I was all alone, and they did look wicked. The foremost man had a big stick for a cane, and both the others carried long switches they must have cut in the woods. As I jumped to my feet the first fellow said to sit still, sonny, he wasn't going to disturb anybody, and wanted to know where my pard was.

I said, as careless as I could, that he was just down below, hoping they'd think I meant down on the shore; but they didn't, for another spoke up and said he was far enough away, "and don't stop to palaver, I want some grub!" I'd kept backing towards the tent all the time we were talking; and when he said that, I was right in the opening, and one look inside showed me the gun almost where I could reach it, and I knew it was loaded!

I felt a good deal bolder then, so I told them,—

"You'll have to wait till the professor comes back; these are his things;" but the men only laughed in an awful fierce kind of way, and said they "guessed they didn't care about waiting, sonny, they wasn't making formal calls, and they hadn't brought their cards, but they'd leave suthin' to remember 'em by just the same!"

The way they talked fairly froze me up, though 'twas a real hot day. So I ducked inside and grabbed the gun, but they thought I was so scared I was trying to hide; so they went around kicking things over a good deal, and swearing like everything, but I didn't care, for there wasn't much outside the tent anyhow, except the cooking things and some mouldy bread that they were welcome to if they wanted it. When they saw how it was, one of them came up towards me, and called to the rest to come on, they'd have to explore the tent to find what they wanted.

I let him come to about two feet of the opening, then I stuck my gun in his face real quick, and yelled "Halt!" as loud as I could, and he halted.

I told him then he'd better get back, for this might go off, and he ripped out a big swear word, and told me to stop fooling with that gun or somebody'd get shot; and I said I was afraid they would! He kept backing all the time, and saying, "Oh, put it down, put it down, sonny!" but I kinder thought I wouldn't. Then they all stood off, and threw stones at me, and said they'd set fire to the tent, and for me to come out like a man, and they wouldn't hurt me; but I thought as I was just a boy I'd stay where I was. But I told 'em I'd shoot the first man that came near the tent, and their stones didn't amount to much anyhow, for they didn't reach me. But I really did not feel quite so saucy as I talked, for if they hadn't been regular cowards they could have made me lots of trouble, I guess; and when I saw the professor's big white helmet coming through the trees, I tell you I was glad! I called out, "Don't mind the men, sir, I've got 'em covered with the gun!" and at that they gave one look at him, and ran for the woods. He stood still and looked after them as surprised as anything; but when I told him all about it, he laughed and laughed in that still, funny way he has, and said he guessed he didn't make any mistake when he chose his companion; and I thought perhaps he meant to praise me, but I'm not sure. This is all about the tramps.

Good-by, Morton.

P.S.—I've torn my pants; but the professor says, "Never mind, there's more where they came from," and he looked at me kinder winkey when he said it, for you know they were made out of his old ones. This time it is really

Good-by, Morton.

Sara was so proud of these letters that she could not resist showing them to Madame Grandet and Mrs. Macon, both of whom were greatly amused.

"He has evidently gotten into Henry's good graces, as well as his old clothes!" laughed the latter. "The boy is like you, Sara, he doesn't know how brave he is."

Sara looked up quickly.

"Brave, I brave?" she asked in surprise. "I never did a really brave thing in my life!"

"Didn't you?" smiling, with a meaning look. "I thought you had done a good many."

But she made no explanation of her words, and Sara was too modest to ask what they meant.

Morton came home so brisk and rosy it was good to see him, and regaled Molly for days with the accounts of his wonderful adventures. He seemed to have quite recovered from his longings for a sea-life, and was almost as much interested in certain scientific studies as Sara herself. In fact, their autumn rambles together were pleasures whose memory lingered with both for many a year.

One morning in November, Sara saw, among the letters on the desk, a creamy square with her own name upon it, and nearly had her breath taken away upon opening it, to find it was an invitation to a dinner given by one of the faculty in honor of a distinguished scientist from abroad, who was to deliver a lecture before the students the coming week.

She glanced from it to Professor Macon, who was busy writing, but, seeing no solution of the matter in his face, resolved to consult his wife about it, and stopped in on her way home that noon for the purpose. "Oh, you are invited, then!" cried Mrs. Macon with satisfaction, as Sara explained her errand. "I was sure you would be."

"But how could you think so? I, a fisherman's daughter."

"You, Sara Olmstead, the writer who is already being noticed in the literary world! Why shouldn't you be asked, I'd like to know?"

"But, dear Mrs. Macon, what shall I wear? how shall I act?"

"Ah! now you are talking sense. 'What shall you wear?' Sara, you must have a white dress; something with long, soft folds, and—yes—and trimmed with swan's-down. That will be so becoming."

"Yes, and cost a small fortune!"

"No, not as much as you think. A cashmere will do, and that reminds me, I'm to have a dressmaker here the first of the week; she shall give me an extra day or two, and make your dress, then I can be sure it is all right. And never mind about the swan's-down; for I have some on a dress, I think almost enough, that I have only worn once. She shall rip it off for you to wear on this great occasion."

"O Mrs. Macon, how good you are!"

"Good? Why, this is fun for me. You must go with us, of course. Yes, and we'll ask the Grandets to go in our carriage too; 'twill make five, but no matter; you're little, and can squeeze in between the two gentlemen for that short distance: and, fortunately, cashmere doesn't show mussing badly."

"But, Mrs. Macon, I'm afraid"—

She stopped, coloring daintily.

"Well, of what?"

"Won't you be—ashamed of me? I never went to a dinner-party in my life. There are a great many forks and spoons to manage, aren't there?"

"Simplest thing in the world, that, my dear; begin with whatever is next your plate. If you think you are wrong at any time, dally a little, and watch your hostess. By the way, this invitation is for two weeks ahead, and Thanksgiving is next week, Thursday; you shall practise here! I was going to see you soon, to invite all three of you to dine with us that day; will you come? We shall ask the Grandets also, but no one else."

"You are exceedingly kind, Mrs. Macon; we will be more than happy to come. I had dreaded the day," softly.

"Yes, my dear, anniversaries are sad things; but we will try and enjoy this one. And don't hesitate to ask about anything that puzzles you at our table. These little fads of etiquette are easily learned, after one has acquired that real politeness which must become a part of the character; and that you have, Sara."

"Thank you for your encouragement, dear Mrs. Macon; I shall try not to put you to the blush."



CHAPTER XVI.

THE PRINCESS HOLDS A "DRAWING-ROOM."

When Morton heard of the two invitations, and something of the foregoing conversation, as they sat over their cosey supper that evening, he kept quite still, while Molly was running on with questions, suggestions, and comments, till there was a lull; then he looked up at his elder sister with a queer expression.

"Supposing, Sara, I had gone with Uncle Jabez Wanamead, and then should come home a rough fisherman, while you were learning how to be polite; would you have been ashamed of me?"

"No, Morton; but I shall be much prouder of you if you will have the bravery and honesty of a fisherman, with the education and manners of a gentleman, and the spirit of a Christian; that ought to make a man for any sister to be proud of."

"Well," he said, drawing in his breath, "I'll say it now, Sara, I'm glad you stuck out so against my going in the Mary Jane. While I was off with the professor we were by the sea a day or two, and I went aboard a smack. It was a better one than that, too; but I was glad I hadn't a berth there, for somehow things did look dreadfully rough to me that day. There was a boy about my age, and the men swore at him nearly every word they said, and he swore too, and chewed and smoked and drank his grog; and he seemed real proud to think he could take it down clear without staggering. I was glad to get back to the professor, Sara, but I would like to have a yacht of my own, and sail all over the world after specimens for the museum; wouldn't that be fine?"

"Perhaps you may some day; who knows? Stranger things than that have happened."

It was a very nice-looking trio which turned into Mrs. Macon's gate after church Thanksgiving Day. The checks Sara received for her articles were of great assistance in clothing them comfortably for the winter; and she glanced with almost motherly pride from tall Morton, in his neat overcoat and derby, to Molly, pretty as a pink, with her flying curls and scarlet cheeks, in a dark blue serge trimmed with fur.

She forgot herself, but no one else would have done so; for the slender figure in black, with a close-fitting jacket and trig little hat, was so symmetrical, while the face above had such a charm, both of feature and expression, that few could pass her by unnoted.

Mrs. Macon welcomed them with gay cordiality.

"Dear me! How sweet you do look, Sara!" giving her a motherly kiss. "But you'll have to look out for this young lady or she'll eclipse you yet!" pinching Molly's dimpled cheek. "How the child is shooting up! I've a surprise for you, Sara. I hope it will be a happy one."

"I think your surprises are always happy, Mrs. Macon."

"As are your remarks, Sara. Well, come, Madame Grandet is below."

They descended to the beautiful drawing-room, where, in the softened light, Sara was conscious of several figures; the madame, lovely in a Frenchy toilet, with a dash of scarlet here and there, rose to greet them, while the little group of black coats just beyond separated and turned, resolving itself into her host, Professor Grandet, and—Robert Glendenning!

The last named came forward with an eager movement, and Sara's heart stood still a minute, then plunged on with rapid beats, as he took her hand and bent over it with an earnest greeting. He looked well, as she quickly observed, having broadened into proportions better suited to his height, and his eyes seemed more brilliant than ever as they met her own.

"This is my surprise, Sara," laughed Mrs. Macon; "and you know," mischievously, "they are always happy ones. I think you have remarked it yourself."

But Sara only answered by a look: her words did not come readily just then.

"He have come last night," said the madame, beaming upon her nephew, "so that it was to all of us a surprise, for we have not expect him."

"Indeed! As if you could think, Aunt Felicie, that I would eat my Thanksgiving turkey in a boarding-house, when"—

"Ah! but that is what you would then do, if our friends had not so kindly invite us here, Robare; are not your uncle and myself also in a boarding-house?" a reply which rather nonplussed the young man for a moment.

But, fortunately for his embarrassment, the domestic just then announced dinner, and Mrs. Macon said,—

"Henry, will you give your arm to madame? And you, Mr. Glendenning, to Miss Olmstead; I will do myself the honor of walking in with Professor Grandet; and I'm sure Morton will be happy to escort his better half, as I suppose a twin sister may be called."

As they passed through the hall, Sara's escort said in a low tone,—

"I have heard of your sorrows and your joys through my good aunt. Tell me one thing, is your life any happier, broader, better, amid these new surroundings?"

"Yes," said Sara, "I believe it is; and yet, sometimes my very soul is sick for the sight and sound of the sea, and for the roughest greeting from one of our good old weather-beaten fishermen at home."

"I am glad that is so. You are too loyal to forget easily; but still you would not go back, would you?"

"No, never;" smiling up into his face. "There is no plan for going back in my life; only for going forward."

He smiled in return, but the bustle of taking their seats prevented any answer. When all was quiet again, Sara had time to notice that she had been placed where she could observe every motion of her hostess, and even as the thought crossed her mind, she caught that lady's eye and a telegraphic glance passed between them. Sara's said, "Help me!" Mrs. Macon's replied, "Watch me!" at which both smiled slyly, and turned to the next neighbor with some light remark.

Morton and Molly had been so drilled in their deportment before they came, that each sat now stiff and solemn as martinets awaiting some command; Morton, eying hopelessly the tiny bouillon-cup before him, with the healthy appetite of a boy who had not eaten anything since an early breakfast; while Molly, after a stony rigidity of perhaps two minutes, suddenly gave a little twist and drew a sigh as long and lugubrious as the wail of an autumn blast. Professor Macon looked at her with twinkling eyes.

"Don't be discouraged, Miss Molly," he whispered leaning towards her, "there is a turkey somewhere, I'm sure, for I had a sniff of it myself some time ago." Her eyes brightened, and she whispered back in the same confidential way,—