TABLE of CONTENTS

CHAPTER I—THE GORDONS AND THEIR HOME

CHAPTER II—THE FIRST SUNDAY

CHAPTER III—CONCERNING DRAGONS

CHAPTER IV—THE STUDENT COMMITTE

CHAPTER V—ROB’S EXPERIMENT

CHAPTER VI—AUNT HARRIET AND A LETTER

CHAPTER VII—A STORMY SATURDAY

CHAPTER VIII—THE RIVER PICNIC

CHAPTER IX—CHRISTMAS IN BOSTON

CHAPTER X—AFTER VACATION

CHAPTER XI—CHIEFLY ABOUT GREEK

CHAPTER XII—THE BEGINNING OF TROUBLE

CHAPTER XIII—VERY SERIOUS FOR HOLLY

CHAPTER XIV—MAKING THE BEST OF THINGS

CHAPTER XV—AUNT BAIUR SCENTS A MYSTERY

CHAPTER XVI—MILLIE’S BIRTHDAY DANCE

CHAPTER XVII—THE STUDENT COMMITTEE AGAIN

CHAPTER XVIII—A TALK WITH MILLIE’S MOTHER

CHAPTER XIX—BOTH MERRY AND SAD

CHAPTER XX—THE MOTTO OF CLAN MONTROSE

LIST of ILLUSTRATIONS

- Holly helped shell corn, while Mont wielded the popper.

- Aunt Harriet was established in the living—room.

- “Rob, what have you done?.”

- “Once upon a time—” began Holly again.

- Louise sprang up, knocking over her chair in her haste.

- On sped the double-runner with its extra and involuntary passenger.

CHAPTER I

THE GORDONS AND THEIR HOME

IT was one by the big clock in the tower of the Congregational church, and along School Street and down Summer were groups of boys and girls coming from the High School, where those who were not detained for any reason were dismissed at this early hour. A short distance behind the main body of pupils two girls were engaged in very earnest conversation. It was nothing new for Louise Gordon and Millie Jenckes to be seen together, for they were almost inseparable, but to-day they seemed more than usually absorbed in each other, and as they talked, walked more and more leisurely.

“At last they moved so slowly, you scarce could see them crawl. And when they reached the doctor’s gate, they didn’t go at all I”

Louise looked up with a smile at the saucy greeting sung by a gay lad as he passed. Hollis was her twin brother, a laughing, happy-go-lucky fellow with the sunniest possible disposition. No more charming or irresistible scapegrace ever existed.

“I thought you were to stay after school, Holly!”

Holly’s merry gray eyes twinkled. “It was intended that I should, but luckily Brer Webster remembered an important engagement, so here I am. Are you telling Millie what a lark mother and dad are going to have? ”

“It isn’t much of a lark for us! ” Louise’s big brown eyes looked rather sober as she spoke. “I was just telling her. If you’re going directly home, please say to mother that I may be late.”

Holly went on with a cheerful “All right,” to overtake his older brother Montrose, whose broad shoulders showed familiarly in a group at the corner.

“It won’t be a bit of fun to have father and mother away all winter,” continued Louise. “I wish I didn’t feel they were going for any reason except to have a good time, but mother has not been strong, and I can’t help thinking it is because of that. But of course father knows, since he’s a doctor. Anyway, they are sailing for Naples on next Saturday’s steamer.”

“Who is to keep house? You? ”

“No, indeed! Sarah would stand my housekeeping about two days,” replied Louise, laughing at Millie’s incredulous tone. “She has been with us ever since father and mother were married, over eighteen years, you know, so mother feels perfectly satisfied to leave her in charge of everything of that kind. Then of course Dr. Jennings is to take father’s practice, since he is father’s assistant, and he is to stay at our house. I’m glad of that because he is like one of the family, and the boys are all fond of him, and he will keep things straight. Mother and I had a talk last night, and she says all I have to do is just to go on as usual, and try to make things pleasant for Bert and the boys. But that seems a good deal! ”

“Yes, I think it does,” agreed Millie, who was an only child, and who knew that Louise’s three brothers sometimes made her life a lively one. “ You can’t make the boys obey you! ”

“I know better than to try! But Mont can almost always make both Holly and Rob do what he says, and Mont is dear, you know.”

Millie gave Louise’s arm an affectionate squeeze. “It is so funny for you four to be so nearly of an age; Mont, and then you and Holly not two years younger, and Rob only a little younger still.”

“I only wish I was bigger. Even Rob just picks me up and carries me around when he chooses, and I simply can’t do anything with Mont.” Louise stretched her slender little figure to its utmost height as she spoke. “Mother says you must come and we must have nice times together just as we always do, Millie. It is only for the winter, and we are to spend Christmas in Boston with Uncle Ned and Aunt Mary.”

Millie turned in at her gate after a little longer chat, and Louise walked down Walcott Street with a very serious expression on her sweet face. On the corner of Walcott and Summer Streets stood a big rambling old colonial house with spacious grounds and some fine trees. Just at present the trees were leafless in the November chill, and the garden was being tucked up for the winter’s sleep, but even now it was a very pleasant home. On Summer Street an addition to the main house came nearly to the sidewalk, and there was the office with the sign:

“Dr. Charles D. Gordon,

Dr. B. C. Jennings.”

An electric automobile stood before the office, and Louise, seeing it, suddenly turned down Summer Street and entered the office door instead of crossing the lawn as usual. Dr. Jennings had returned for a case of instruments, and was surprised to see Louise, for she seldom came in by that door. “Are you very busy, Bert?”

“Not very. What can I do for you? ”

Louise hesitated a moment. “Bert, I want to ask you something. Is there anything serious the matter with mother? ”

The young doctor looked at her so suddenly and so searchingly that she stopped, but the next second he was again imperturbably turning over his shining steel instruments.

“I thought perhaps — I know she isn’t strong, and Dr. Chase has been to see her, and you too, every day lately, and then father is going away with her, and for so long. I think,” she added with a pretty dignity, “that if there is anything the matter I have a right to know. I am sixteen now.”

“I also think you have, Louise,” said Dr. Jennings very gently. No one could have called the young doctor good-looking except for the charm that perfect health lends to any face however plain, but all who looked twice at him felt him to be a man who was thoroughly trustworthy, and whose friendship was worth having. Somehow his calm manner and suggestion of great reserve force behind it, invariably inspired confidence.

“You have no need to worry about Mrs. Gordon. My visits are not strictly professional ones. Your mother is very good to me; you know she reminds me of my own. Then, too, we have had many plans to arrange lately. She isn’t strong, and this fall she has been more delicate than usual, so it seems best for her to go where the winter is less severe than here in Maine, but there is no reason for you to feel troubled.”

A peculiarly pleasant smile made the speaker’s face almost handsome for an instant, and Louise’s answering glance was grateful.

“Thank you, Bert I didn’t want to speak to father, because if there was any reason, it might be so hard for him to tell me, and yet I had to know. Now I shall be happy about the nice time they will have.”

Mrs. Gordon was in the dining-room when Louise ran in with a face much more cheerful than when she entered the office. Lunch seemed to be ready, but only Rob was present, Rob with his short-sighted brown eyes and round glasses that made him look like an owl. Mother was pouring the chocolate, and after a hasty kiss, Louise took her seat.

“Rob thinks Holly had to stay, but where is Mont? Do you know, daughter? ”

“ Holly got off because Mr. Webster had an engagement, but both he and Mont were ahead of me. There they come! ”

“Why was Holly to stay? ” inquired Mrs. Gordon. Louise and her twin brother were in the sophomore class and shared the same recitations.

“Oh, mother, he drew a caricature of Mr. Webster. It was terribly funny; no one could help laughing; and he fastened it into the leaves of the big Latin dictionary on the table. Mr. Webster had made him sit in front because he and Sidney were talking. We could all see it and Mr. Webster couldn’t, because Holly took it down before he had a chance, but he told Holly to stay just on general principles. He didn’t know what the class was laughing at, but he felt sure Holly was the cause. I do wish you’d behave!” she concluded as her brother entered and slid his long length into a chair.

Holly only looked at her, but his eyes had a charming fashion of laughing quite independently of his mouth, and Louise was forced to smile, for she was no more proof than anyone else against Holly’s whimsical winning ways.

Mont came also, a tall, broad-shouldered fellow looking older than his seventeen years; such a quiet, steady boy, always to be depended upon, and so manly and self-reliant that he was a great comfort to his parents. Rob also was quiet and taciturn, with a great love for books, while in Hollis seemed to be concentrated the high spirits of the family. Never very strong physically, he was extremely mercurial in temperament, full of fun, and constantly perpetrating absurd pranks. He was a very bright and clever student, perhaps the most talented, and certainly by far the naughtiest of the four children. He and Rob sometimes had passages at arms, for Hollis was quick-tempered, and while it took a good deal to make Rob angry, when he was aroused, he did not easily get over it. Mont rarely clashed with either of the others, and the friendship between him and Hollis was especially strong.

Mrs. Gordon wily smiled at Louise’s story of her brother’s misdeeds. It was always difficult to reprove Hollis, and sometimes Louise thought that it was not quite fair. Holly was too likely to come off with flying colors when he really deserved punishment. But when he had one of the severe nervous headaches from which he sometimes suffered, Louise quickly lost all feeling of resentment.

Lunch was almost over before the doctor came. He was a tall gray-haired man, with a twinkling pair of eyes, of which Holly’s merry ones were an exact copy. He brought good news with him; his brother and family from Boston were coming for Thanksgiving, and then they would all go back together on Friday, and sail the next day for Naples.

“If we are to have guests to-morrow, I must have some help from my children this afternoon,” said Mrs. Gordon when lunch was over. “ Mary and Sarah have all they can do. Holly may finish the dinner cards; — there must be one for Aunt Harriet — ”

A general groan interrupted her. All around the table were disapproving faces.

“ Not Aunt Harriet, mother, just before you go away! Not for our Thanksgiving! ”

“Yes, indeed, we must ask Aunt Harriet. How hurt she would feel if the Boston people were here, and she not invited. That would never do, my girl and boys! ”

Aunt Harriet was Dr. Gordon’s unmarried aunt, who lived with three or four servants in a huge and handsome house not far away. Aunt Harriet had a peculiar knack of saying disagreeable things, and though Mrs. Gordon had done her best to have her children sympathize with the unhappy, discontented old lady, even Mont seldom encountered her without having his sweet temper tried, and Holly and Louise were usually much ruffled. But the pleasure of having Aunt Mary and Uncle Ned, with Charlie, Ruth and Jennie, was great enough to offset the fact that Aunt Harriet also would be a guest After the first protest the children accepted this, and listened to Mrs. Gordon’s further instructions.

“The dinner cards to be finished, then, by Holly! Mont may bring in an extra cot from the shed loft and Rob may get the mattress that belongs to it from the east storeroom. Dust it carefully, Rob, and bring them both to your room. Louise may come with me.”

There were two guest rooms in the house, one of which would be occupied by Uncle Ned and Aunt Mary, while Ruth and Jennie could have the other adjoining Louise’s, and enjoy the fun of all being together. Charlie must go up to the third floor, where the Gordon boys held supreme sway, and it was to their domain that Louise and her mother went. There were three pleasant rooms in the front of the house, reached by a separate stair and having no connection with those at the back. The stair ended in a small, square hall lighted by a skylight, and forming a very cosy little sitting-room. From this hall, three doors led into as many bedrooms, and a fourth into a white-tiled bathroom where as much water as was desirable might safely be spilled. Each of the boys on his fourteenth birthday had had his room furnished as he chose, and they were as different as their different owners. Mont’s was the front room with four big windows. The walls were covered with terra-cotta cartridge paper, which formed an admirable background for a few good pictures. On the mantel over the fireplace stood a curious Roman lamp and a couple of brass candlesticks. The bedstead was of brass, and the other furniture of severely plain black oak. There was a big study table, and a luxurious Morris chair. Mont’s room was always in order; his books in the case where they belonged, his tennis racquet and golf clubs in their places and the papers and note-books in straight piles. Near one window stood a tall case containing a miscellaneous collection of shells, butterflies and curiosities of all kinds, for Mont had the collector’s instinct in full force.

Mont’s room had a connecting door with Holly’s, which was on the southwest side of the house. It was a smaller room but had a beautiful view across the river to the distant hills. The wall-paper was plain green and the woodwork white, while all the furniture, including the single bed, was of green-finished oak. Several bright pictures enlivened the walls and a divan in one comer was heaped with gay pillows. Holly’s room was not as orderly as Mont’s and as Mrs. Gordon looked into the closet she shook her head. Louise picked up one slipper from under the table and found its mate on the divan.

Rob’s room was festive with its gay flowered paper, white iron bed, and curly maple furniture. Its two windows faced the west, and his book-case was crammed with well-read volumes.

“Rob’s room is not as pretty as the others,” thought Louise, “but it is just as he wanted it. I think, mother,” she added aloud, “that it was lovely in you to let us each have our room just as we liked. I do love my little room with every single thing in it pink or white, even the floor!”

Mary did not love that white painted floor of Louise’s, but its young mistress did. The room had been the children’s nursery, opening from Mrs. Gordon’s room. It was under Holly’s, and the south window had been enlarged to a great sunny bay, with a window seat piled high with pillows. Everything in the room was as dainty as its girlish occupant.

“I wanted each of my children to have one special place exactly to his liking, dear,” said Mrs. Gordon rather absently. “Now shall we put the cot for Charlie in Mont’s room or Rob’s? Mont’s, I think, and he can let Charlie have the bed. Now, daughter, will you pick up a little in Holly’s room and then dust in Mont’s? Here comes the cot!”

Mont appeared carrying the frame and Rob followed balancing the mattress on his head. Just as he reached the top of the stairs it fell over the balusters and came down with a thud on the second story landing.

“Lucky it didn’t go way down and smash the chandelier in the lower hall,” he observed philosophically, as he slid down the rail to bring it back.

Mont set up the frame and Rob flung the recovered mattress on the springs. Louise was ready with sheets.

“Mother’s tired, Mont; you can help me make this up.”

“Most surely; ” seizing a down puff, “does this go first?”

“You know it doesn’t!” began Louise. “We must take the things from your bed and fix that for Charlie.”

With one sweep, Mont pulled the covers from his bed and piled them on the cot, seized Louise, placed her on the heap, and despite her struggles rolled her up securely with utter disregard of her expostulations.

“There, what next?” he asked, taming to his mother, who with Rob was laughing merrily.

“Mont, you are awful!” exclaimed Louise, emerging from the bed-clothes with her hair much rumpled.

“Louise, why don’t you stay still? What are you pulling my bed to pieces for? ” and Mont made another dive for her.

This time the cot itself collapsed, and in the general heap that resulted, Louise chanced to come out on top. She retaliated by pulling a stray blanket over Mont’s head, and held it till he begged for mercy.

Peace was at last restored, the cot put up again, and the two beds made with some difficulty, for Mont was very particular about the exact position of each sheet and blanket.

“You are a regular old Betty!” exclaimed Louise when he had at last decided with the help of a foot rule, that the pillows were mathematically in their proper places.

“Louise, if you don’t admire the position of those pillows, I shall take you into the bath-room and wash your face with a rubber sponge! Admire them quickly now! ”

“Oh, they are lovely, Mont, perfect! only let me alone. My hair is in such a state, and I don’t want my face skinned in addition.”

Louise was half-way down the stairs before she finished speaking. “I’ll dust later, mother!” she called as she went to rebraid her disheveled hair, while Mont, leaning over the railing, grinned at her haste.

Thanksgiving morning dawned cloudy and gray, but not cold. The paper had prophesied a storm, so there was a chance to be thankful it had not come at the time the guests were expected. Louise and the boys went to meet the train at eleven, Hollis driving the double-seated carriage, the others crowded into the doctor’s runabout, which Mont was very proud of being allowed to use. The train was on time, and Uncle Ned, Aunt Mary, and Jennie went with Mont in the auto while the other five managed to squeeze into the surrey. It was a tight fit, but Louise and Ruth were so glad to see each other that they did not mind being jammed a little. They were of nearly the same age, while Charlie was a month older than Mont, and Jennie was almost nineteen.

Mont was greatly pleased after reaching the house to be allowed to start out again with the auto. He was always careful, and the doctor, after an emphatic word of caution, permitted the four boys to go by themselves. There would be time for quite a trip before dinner, which was to be served at two.

It was some time since the three girls had been together, and there was much laughing and chattering as they called back and forth from one room to the other while they dressed. They were ready in good time; Jennie in a pretty red silk which was very becoming to her dark hair and eyes; lighthaired Ruth in a blue muslin, and Louise in white, as the doctor liked best to have her.

“That is the prettiest dress, Louise! ” said Ruth admiringly as Louise came to have her hair ribbons tied.

“I think it is pretty, though Holly said it looked like a nightgown. He called it my party nightdress, but I wore it to dancing school all last winter. It has to be my best for at home now. I didn’t have any new things this fall except my Peter Thompson for school, and mother sent to Boston for that, so it could be exactly like Millie’s. There is the bell, — it must be Aunt Harriet Now we shall be inspected, I can tell you! ”

Aunt Harriet was established in the living-room when the girls came down, with her glasses and handkerchief close at hand and her shawl over the arm of her chair. She allowed each of the three to kiss her, but, as Louise had foretold, looked them over from head to foot.

“So you have put up your hair, Jennie? It does make you look older, which, I suppose, is what you wished. It would improve your appearance if you would stand more erectly.”

Poor Jennie looked uncomfortable and Mrs. Gordon came to the rescue.

“I believe all young people who grow rapidly have a tendency to stoop. I find it difficult to keep my children from growing round-shouldered, especially Rob, who reads so much.”

“Louise carries herself very well,” remarked Aunt Harriet, turning her attention from Jennie. “Do you think, though, Helen, you ought to let her lace so much? ”

Louise looked aghast, as well she might. “Why, Aunt Harriet, I never had on a corset in my life!”

“Your waist appears too slender to be wholly natural.”

Louise was rather an independent young lady; she marched straight up to her great-aunt.

“Just feel for yourself, Aunt Harriet; all I have on is a soft underwaist without bones. I never wanted my clothes tight, and mother would not let me have them so if I did.”

Mrs. Gordon and Aunt Mary both smiled, and Aunt Harriet put on her glasses and inspected Louise’s dress.

“I was slender myself when I was a girl though you would scarcely think it now. I see your clothes aren’t too tight, Louise, but I wouldn’t waste much time at the mirror. It has always been a wonder to me that you are not more of a tomboy than you are, brought up with all those noisy tramping boys. I should think you would wish one of them was a sister.”

“I should like a sister very much, but I couldn’t spare one of my brothers, Aunt Harriet!” announced Louise, retiring again to her seat on the couch beside Ruth.

“I trust, Mary, that you do not send your girls to a mixed school. In spite of all my advice, — in spite of my offer to send Louise at my own expense to a high-grade finishing school in New York, — Helen and the doctor think it best for her to go to the High School here, actually preparing for college, with no one knows what kind of boys, and all mixed in together! ”

Mrs. Gordon pressed her lips together at this, but luckily Jennie and Ruth attended the Girls’ Latin School, and this arrangement was stamped with Aunt Harriet’s august approval. Sarah summoned Mrs. Gordon just then, and Aunt Harriet’s eye fell upon the front lawn.

“Louise, child, who is that young man?”

“Bert, — Dr. Jennings, Aunt Harriet.”

“Is he always around? ”

“He is often here. Mother has invited him to dinner to-day.”

Aunt Harriet snorted. “Aren’t there boys enough in the family so that Helen doesn’t have to ask in stray young men? ”

“He is father’s assistant.”

“Yes, yes, I know that, but why should he be around? Do you see much of him, Louise? ”

“I see him whenever he is here, Aunt Harriet Bert is very nice and we all like him ever so much. Father often says he should not know what to do without him.”

“Does your mother allow you to call him by his Christian name?”

Louise’s cheeks flushed painfully. “Mother always does it herself. He is quite like one of the family, Aunt Harriet.”

“He seems to be! ” said Aunt Harriet with another snort, as she adjusted her glasses for a second look at the unconscious young doctor. Whether or not Bert had any inkling of Aunt Harriet’s sentiments toward him, he did not present himself in the house until the boys returned and they all came in together. Even then, after the first greeting, he retired to the other end of the big sitting-room.

Holly’s dinner cards attracted much attention and applause when the family was assembled around the daintily spread table. On each napkin lay a tiny yellow pasteboard pumpkin with a name lettered neatly on its surface, while on the reverse was a nonsense rhyme adapted to the person occupying the seat. All were funny; some were original, and considerable merriment resulted from their being read aloud while the soup plates were taken away. Louise objected to reading hers, but was finally prevailed upon to share it.

“I have my opinion of Holly! ” she said, laughing. “I’ll read it, but I want you to understand that it isn’t so.

“There was once a girl named Louise,

Who had such a wonderful sneeze,

That her brothers all sped

To bring Baraum; who said,

“I must have this freak, if you please!”

Rob’s also convulsed the children. It was a standing joke in the family, produced annually at Thanksgiving, that Rob at the age of eight announced that only a few times in his life had he had enough to eat!

“The young person who sits in this seat

Has had seldom sufficient to eat

Once or twice in his life,

So rumor is rife,

He has really refused more to eat!”

Even Aunt Harriet seemed amused, and read her own with no unpleasant comment. It was merely a funny jingle without special application. Mrs. Gordon had insisted that Holly should show her that card before dinner was served, thus nipping in the bud any mischievous plans he may have had.

It was late in the afternoon when they rose from the table, for there was so much to talk over. The boys and Bert went out to play foot-ball, and the girls followed to watch the game and stroll around in the chill air. The older people gathered in the cosy library, and discussed more seriously the trip to Italy, now so near at hand. Their plans were not approved by Aunt Harriet, who advised their closing the house and sending the children to stay with her.

“It is for too long a time, Aunt Harriet,” replied Mrs. Gordon, smiling inwardly at thought of the disturbance such a suggestion would raise among the children. “It is very kind of you to offer, but the boys would be entirely too much for your nerves.”

“Then let me have Louise.”

“I think the boys will need Louise,” replied the doctor. “The next question after ‘ Where’s mother? ’ is ‘ Where’s Louise? ’ Thank you, Aunt Harriet, but Helen and I think the children would better stay together and help each other.. Sarah is an invaluable housekeeper for them, and we shall feel perfectly safe to leave her in charge. Then Bert is coming here also.”

“It seems to me you place a good deal of confidence in that young man. I hope it is not misplaced. What do you know about him anyway? I should never be able to feel confidence in any foreigner, even an Englishman.”

“I have known enough of him in the past four years to make me willing to trust my practice and my children to him for the winter,” replied Dr. Gordon a little gravely. He thoroughly liked and respected his young assistant, though he really knew very little about him. Bert was an Englishman, though he seldom spoke of his native country. He had been educated at Winchester, for he had sometimes told the children of the life in one of England’s great public schools. His medical training had been received at Cambridge, and he had done good work in the London hospitals. This much Dr. Gordon knew, but why he had come to America and settled in a quiet New England town, was a mystery. He never referred to his family, except his mother, who was not living; he seldom had letters from abroad, and Dr. Gordon had guessed that family troubles might have been the cause of a voluntary exile. Still it was strange that a physician of such ability and skill should be contented in an assistant’s place in a small city.

All these thoughts were recalled to Dr. Gordon’s mind by Aunt Harriet’s comment, but before she could make further remark, Aunt Mary inquired if they did not think it best to leave Louise, at least, in other hands.

“It may be a good thing for the boys, but why not let Aunt Harriet or me have Louise? A winter in Boston would be a pleasant and profitable experience for her.”

”1 want Louise to learn to take her mother’s place with the boys,” said Mrs. Gordon gently. “They would be lonely without her, and we think that just now, Louise’s duty and her best good lie in making home pleasant for her brothers during our absence.”

“You are probably right, Helen,” said Unde Ned abruptly. “But we must have them all for their Christmas vacation. Mary, will you arrange with Helen about it? Charlie, I’m not too old nor too stiff to join that game of ball, are you? ”

Dr. Gordon was glad to escape from further dis* cussion, and presently the two gentlemen were playing with the young people on the lawn.

CHAPTER II

THE FIRST SUNDAY

LOUISE was awakened next morning by sounds of commotion in the room above. Rightly guessing some frolic to be in progress, she turned sleepily over and curled up for another nap, when she was more thoroughly aroused by Ruth’s voice from the adjoining room.

“Louise Gordon, did you ever? It’s snowing, snowing hard I ”

Louise sat up and looked at the window. Snow at that date, even in wintry Maine, was a little unusual.

“The boys will like it,” she thought as she put on her wrapper and slippers and ran in for a morning cuddle with her cousins.

The storm decided the travellers who were going to Boston to give up their rooms on the boat from Portland and make the journey wholly by rail. It was certainly safer, but meant leaving home directly after lunch instead of the late afternoon. Both gentlemen were willing to risk the sea trip, but Aunt Mary and Mrs. Gordon would not consent. The wreck of the “Portland ” was still fresh in the memory of all New England coast-dwellers. Preparations needed to be hastened, and in the hurry of the last packing, and the numerous things to think of, Louise had little time to realize just how she would feel when it was all over. Before lunch, her mother called her into her own room, and shutting the door, sat down in the big chair and took her on her lap. For a moment they only hugged each other, and then Mrs. Gordon said cheerfully, “There isn’t very much to say, is there, little girl? It is only for five months 1 I know you will miss me perhaps more than the boys, and so, in a way, it will be hardest for you. Be sunshiny and cheerful, and make home pleasant, — you know you can. Remember not to dictate to the boys; they won’t take it, but you can always persuade them to do a good deal. Don’t find fault if they are noisy and forgetful. Go to church and Sunday school just as you always do. You will find that Mont will go with you, and the others will probably do as he does. Be gentle with Holly if he has any of his bad headaches, and try to keep him and Rob from irritating each other. Go to Bert if anyone is ill, or anything is seriously wrong, but keep the little worries to yourself; don’t complain every time the boys tease. I am afraid Sarah may be a trifle inclined to interfere, but you will remember how long and faithfully she has served us, and make allowances. And there is one thing especially, dear; don’t be too concerned about whether the boys do what they should. They know for themselves what is right and wrong, and you are really responsible only for Louise. Just be my own sweet, loving, little daughter, who has it in her power to make home pleasant for her brothers.”

There were a few words more, and Louise released her mother. She guessed that each of the boys also had a special brief word before the final farewells were said, for she presently found Mont holding his mother’s hand in the linen closet, and later heard Holly called upstairs.

The actual leave-taking was not at the station, but in the big living-room, where they gathered after lunch waiting for the carriages. Louise was sitting on her father’s knee, and Holly on the arm of his chair, when Mont suddenly arose and remarked,

“I shall say good-bye now. I never can say it ‘when there are strange people around! ”

“A good plan! ” said the doctor, laughing. “I wonder if my boys are all too big to kiss their old father!”

“I’m not! ” said Holly, promptly. “I won’t at the station, but I will here.”

Neither Mont nor Rob thought themselves too old to follow suit, and the doctor was well hugged.

They were in plenty of time for the train, though it was no small matter to find seats together for so large a party. After the umbrellas and bags were settled, Mrs. Gordon would not let them linger.

“Say ‘ good-bye ’ to Bert for us. I know he expected to see us again, but he must have been delayed.”

“Now you have your tickets and everything, father?” inquired Mont.

“All safe. Good-bye, my boys! ” and the doctor shook hands in so ceremonious a manner that they could not help laughing. There were farewell greetings for aunt, uncle, and cousins, and a last kiss for each from mother before the four left the car. Just as Louise stepped down, Dr. Jennings hurried up quite breathless. The train was beginning to move, but that did not deter him; he rushed through, dropped a big bunch of violets in Mrs. Gordon’s lap, shook hands all round, and swung himself off just as the train began to gain headway.

They watched it till the green flag on the rear vanished around a curve and then looked at each other. The station seemed suddenly very lonely. Father and mother were really gone!

Bert glanced at his watch and then at the young people. “Rob, do you want to play hitching-post for me for an hour or two? I’ve several calls to make and I would like some one to hold my horse. Or does Louise want to go? ”

“It’s rather cold, Bert. I believe I won’t to-day.” “Snow too deep for the auto? ” inquired Mont. “No, I don’t think so, but it’s messy, and the horses have to be exercised, you know. I shall try to get through my calls early and perhaps we can play games this evening if every one likes to do so.” Rob went off with Bert, and the other three walked home, slowly and for a time silently.

“I hope mother will come home much stronger,” said Holly soberly after awhile.

“I think she will,” replied Mont. “Father does not seem worried about her, so why should we? for he knows and we don’t. But there is one thing we can do to make their winter pleasanter. Let’s not ever write mother anything disagreeable. If we all . fight, and scratch each other’s eyes out, let’s settle it among ourselves and keep it to ourselves; let’s not worry mother nor tell tales.”

“No, we won’t,” said Louise.

Holly laughed. “Agreed. We will keep our wars to ourselves, and settle them ourselves, or perish in the attempt Now, Louise, I hope you will be k-kind to me! ”

Louise had been almost ready to cry, but at Holly’s tone she could not help laughing.

“I do wish, though, the first days weren’t Saturday and Sunday.’’

“Ask Millie to dinner,” suggested Mont kindly.

“No, not the first night. It would only emphasize the lonesomeness. It makes such a big hole to have so many go at once.”

The street was an unfrequented one, and Mont took Louise’s hand, tucking it into his coat pocket.

“Don’t you get blue, Pussy. Holly and I will cheer you up.”

Louise returned the pressure of his grasp, but after a moment put her hand back in her muff.

There was a bright fire in the living-room, and to their surprise, Sarah offered them a plate of newly baked cookies.

“Sarah has started well,” observed Holly, settling into a big chair, with his white teeth eclipsing half a cooky. “Let’s hope she wifi live up to her good resolutions.”

“Let’s hope we all will,” said Mont rather seriously. “I am sure if I can only be as angelic as mother has made me.feel I want to be, you will love to live with me.”

“Now, Mont,” began Holly, “if you are going to take that line, I’ll go down town at once and buy you a little tin harp.”

Louise giggled and Mont grinned. Holly lay back in the easy chair with his eyes fixed on the ceiling, warbling strains of “I want to be an angel,” and playing an imaginary stringed instrument, till Mont threw a sofa pillow at him.

“Good resolutions are like mushrooms,” continued Holly after returning the sofa pillow. “They are a growth of the night, especially a night when you have been spanked and sent to bed early. They come like mushrooms and like mushrooms they — Give us another cooky, Louise. Really, I can’t stand so much virtue; it doesn’t agree with my constitution.”

“I must go and study,” observed Mont after poking the fire. “I have a theme due on Monday.”

Holly was presently left alone in the sitting-room. He ate a third cooky, and then produced a large sheet of drawing paper, upon which he drew a picture of Mont as an angel equipped with crown, wings, and an Irish harp, surrounded by a forest of small mushrooms, and seated upon one huge one. This sketch apparently gave him some satisfaction, for he surveyed it with pleasure, and finally fastened it over the mantel He then composed himself on the lounge with Louise’s Angora kitten and the last “Youth’s Companion.” He had quite as much studying to do as the rest, but like many students who learn quickly and with slight effort, he was lazy about beginning his work.

Saturday was not as hard for Louise as she had expected, for there were many little things about the house to set in order, and considerable studying to do. Moreover Mrs. Jenckes invited them to dinner and they had a very jolly evening.

The first Sunday was one Louise never forgot! She felt rather dispirited and Mont and Holly devoted themselves at breakfast to being just as absurd as possible, with the result that by church time they were rather hilarious. Louise and Mont walked together to the pretty little stone church on the hill. Presently Rob appeared. He chose to reach his favorite seat in the corner of the pew by walking through the vacant one adjoining, and stepping over the low partition. At this breach of etiquette, Louise was somewhat shocked, but just then Holly came and wished to sit between her and Mont. Somehow Holly’s very presence made Louise, who was rather hysterical, feel like laughing, and she took instant refuge in her prayer book.

Bert came a little late, and Mont moved to give him the end seat in case he should be called out before the service was over. As she heard the familiar words Louise grew more composed and soon had complete control of herself. This was fortunate, for when the contribution plate was passed, Holly took it from Bert and offered it to her. The twins were never able afterwards to decide how it happened, but between them the plate was dropped with a crash and a fearful clatter of coins on the hardwood floor. Louise gave a gasp of horror and there was a slight rustle of amusement over the church, for the accident had taken place at a pause in the anthem when there was no music to act as a cover. Many eyes were turned toward the Gordon pew, the occupants of which, with the exception of Bert, were the color of peonies. Bert’s eyes were laughing and his voice had a slight tone of amusement as he whispered to Holly, “Pass back the plate, and pick it up after church.”

Mr. Jenckes received the empty plate with an undisguised smile, while Mont restored a handful of coins and envelopes, and stared defiantly at the choir, who were now outdoing themselves in a burst of music. Poor Louise was terribly mortified; it was long before her flushed cheeks cooled at all, and her embarrassment was renewed when, during the sermon, Rob’s unlucky foot jingled a few stray coins.

Bert guessed her feelings and at the last hymn leaned forward to say consolingly, “Never mind, Louise; no one else thinks it as dreadful as you do.”

Louise’s last shred of composure vanished when she turned and saw Dr. Callendar, the principal of the High School, in a pew a little behind their own. He was not a regular attendant there and it seemed odd that he should have come on this especial Sunday when the Gordons were so conspicuous!

The morning had been gray and cloudy and at noon it began to storm in a disagreeable, desultory way, half-rain and half-snow. The chill in the air was very penetrating and people hurried along the wintry streets as if anxious to get under shelter.

Louise felt uneasy and restless after dinner. The house seemed lonely, and she wandered listlessly from one room to another, finally betaking herself to the kitchen. It was in its usual immaculate order, with shining stove, white curtains and spotless floor. Sarah, in her neat Sunday dress, was reading in the big rocker by the window, which was pleasant with flowering plants. Her angular countenance relaxed into the smile it always had for Louise.

“This is the nicest room in the house,” said Louise settling into a funny stubby little rocker which Sarah had brought from her girlhood’s home and prized greatly. “Oh, Sarah, do you think they have been seasick? ”

“I shouldn’t be surprised, deary, ships being such unstable things, and when people go down to the sea in them, they must expect to take the consequences. I’ve never done much sailing myself, but I went once from Portland to Boston on a steamer, and they had to carry me ashore. What little travelling I’ve done since, I’ve done by rail.”

Sarah laid her steel-bowed spectacles in her Bible to mark the place. It was a worn old volume in a rubbed leather binding, and as she closed it, a faded and dried flower fell to the floor. Louise picked it up.

“Thank you, deary. That came from a rosebush at the door of the house where I was born, way up in Aroostook county. Your mother brought it to me once when she had been there with the doctor, and I thought everything of her getting it for me. That must be ten years ago now.”

“Is the Bible an old one too? ”

“Yes, it was my mother’s; she read in it the day she died. She went real suddenly; just laid down her knitting and that was all. She was eighty-four and I suppose I couldn’t have hoped to keep her much longer, but it was a dreadful shock at the time, though afterwards I came to see the comfort of her having been spared a long spell of sickness. Yes, it was her Bible, and though Mrs. Gordon wanted to give me a new one once, I told her as’ long as my eyes could manage, I’d rather use this. The doctor wasn’t there for dinner, — who carved the chickens? ” she asked, with an abrupt change of subject.

“Mont,” replied Louise, with an involuntary smile over the derisive comments his efforts had called forth from Holly and Rob.

“I suppose he must have used the carving-knife,” commented Sarah, “but really, from the looks of things, I couldn’t decide whether they were knocked to pieces with a hammer, or chewed apart.”

Louise burst into a merry laugh. “Oh, Sarah, you’d better not let Holly hear that; he would certainly have a fit.”

“Mont means well,” continued Sarah, with an indulgent smile at her amusement. “I give him credit for that. He’s as well-meaning a boy as I ever knew, and he’s mighty sweet-tempered. This fall he was sorting oyer a barrel of apples out in the shed and there was a wasp in the bagging that covered it. He was stung three times before he got it out of the folds of the sacking. I thought it spoke well for his disposition when he didn’t kill it, but only threw it on the floor. Later I saw him pick it up and put it out of doors.”

“They’ve gone for a walk now, Mont and Holly.

It will be lonesome, Sarah, when it is a little later, for you know mother always has a nice time with us on Sunday afternoon just when it gets dark; a talk or a story or something.”

“Yes, I know, deary, and you must expect to miss that. When it gets a bit dark, I’d sit down at the piano and play something everybody knows. Even if the boys don’t want to sing, the music will kind of fill the gap.”

“That’s a good idea, Sarah,” and Louise’s face • brightened. “There are the boys now; they are coming in this door.”

Holly, Mont, and the cold air they brought with them seemed to take up considerable room in the kitchen, and both were excited.

“We have been over in Abbott’s grove,” began Mont, “and we saw a squirrel’s nest in a bare tree.

I climbed up to throw it down, and there were three baby squirrels in it; at this time of year too! Would you have believed it? ”

Louise received the babies enthusiastically. They were not very big, but quite furry except for their tails, which were bare of hair and ratlike in appearance.

“We had to bring them home, for we couldn’t put them back, because the nest was all broken apart, and I can’t understand why they haven’t frozen before this. Sarah, may we have some warm milk for them?”

“Of course, now you have them you must take care of them,” replied Sarah, to whom the little animals seemed decidedly repulsive. “You can fix a box for them, and I guess they will eat from a medicine dropper like the wood mice and the baby wild rabbits you have brought in before.”

The babies proved themselves able to eat from a spoon, sitting up daintily and holding its edges with their paws. Even Rob deserted his book to watch them. They were just big enough to be very attractive, and having never been outside their nest, they did not know enough to be afraid.

“We can keep their box by the radiator in the living-room,” said Mont when all were fed. “That will be a good place, won’t it, Sarah? ”

“If they don’t get out and go all over the house as your homed lizards used to do. You’ll have to see of how much climbing they are capable.”

By the time the babies were safely tucked in their new home, the hour Louise dreaded was almost over. She seated herself at the piano and played softly, but the boys were all reading and she thought no one listened. Bert came in, looking very tired, and settled into the depths of a big chair.

“Have you had a hard afternoon?” inquired Louise at length turning around on the piano-stool.

“Rather a trying one. It seems restful to hear some music. Will you play that German lullaby once more?”

Louise complied and played softly till tea was ready.

“One Sunday is over,” she thought as she went to bed. “I sha’n’t miss mother quite as much in school”

CHAPTER III

CONCERNING DRAGONS

LOUISE, Millie and Holly were busily at work over Christmas gifts one day in early December, and the pleasant living-room in the Gordon house was disorderly with that pretty confusion which seems to add its own attraction to the holiday season.

The girls had improvised a work-table and were stenciling sofa pillows and table runners, using oil paints upon Russian crash, while Holly was making patterns for them. When his artistic fingers had once planned a design, it was a comparatively simple matter for the girls to execute it.

Holly had promised, under protest, to help Louise, but he was really rather enjoying himself, for having provided more stencils than they could possibly use that afternoon, his bright head was bent over a design that apparently gave him some pleasure, since he was smiling as he drew. Billy, the sole survivor of the three squirrels, was exploring the surface of the desk and occasionally running over Holly’s drawing board in dashes that threatened disaster to the progress of the pencil.

Millie did not like the squirrel’s erratic movements, and divided her attention between her paint brush and his wild plunges. Louise was working more steadily, intent upon a stencil fastened by a forest of pins to the table.

“I should think you would be afraid the kitten would eat Billy,” remarked Millie after awhile.

“Fluffy likes him; they play together. It was a shame the others died.”

“Mont named them Andromache and Cassandra; it was no wonder they died. Any self-respecting squirrel would turn up his toes under such a blight.” Holly tucked the squirrel into his coat pocket as he spoke, but Billy was out again in an instant.

“There, I can take up my pins!” said Louise with a sigh of relief. “Where are the pliers? Oh, Maude, how nice of you to come! ”

“And how pretty!” exclaimed Maude Kimball as she caught a glimpse of their work. She threw her wraps on the lounge and began to help remove the pins.

Five minutes later Louise held the finished pillow up to be admired; a really artistic piece of work, with a conventional design in shades of Delft blue on a gray background. Maude was enthusiastic over it “It is pretty,“said Louise as she hung it carefully over a chair-back. “It is queer how much prettier the conventional designs are in this kind of work.”

Maude stopped to look over Holly’s shoulder and laughed softly.

“Maude,” inquired Holly without looking up, “what color do you think dragons are? ”

“Green,” said Maude after a little thought.

“What do you think, Louise? ”

Louise decided they were blue, and Millie declared in favor of red. “Let us see?” they asked.

Holly held up a very artistic design of a rampant dragon.

“Isn’t he nice!” exclaimed Louise, but Millie, who did not like Japanese decoration of any kind, turned away with a shudder.

“I think he’s horrid! I should be scared to have him around I”

“He’ll be very effective on that gray stuff,” said Maude. “What color do you mean him to be, Holly?”

Holly laid the design down, leaned back in the swivel chair and looked out of the window to where a glorious sunset was shining behind bare trees. The sky was all red and yellow with faint streaks of green and every second the tints changed and melted one into the other. For a moment Holly forgot the dragon.

“What color?” he said at last. “Oh, I think real dragons have steely-blue bodies, and apple-green wings and tail. All I ever saw were that color.”

Millie lifted a pair of shocked and surprised blue eyes, but Maude smiled and Louise said enthusiastically,

“Let’s make him right now, Holly. Here is crash enough. Shall he be on a pillow or a runner? ”

The pattern was not a difficult one either to cut out or pin down, and Maude and Louise had it in place by the time Holly had mixed the paints to the proper colors for dragons.

“Really, they are simply stunning!” exclaimed Maude when two dragons glared at each other across the end of the runner. “Those are exactly the right colors, too! Isn’t it effective? Millie, don’t you like it now? ”

“No, I don’t,” said the honest Millie. “It’s queer and creepy.”

“Shall we do the other end to-night? ” inquired Louise.

“Let’s not,” replied her brother. “It’s dangerous to make too many dragons at once. You must be moderate, for if you create too many at a time, they are likely to turn upon you and assault you.”

Millie looked more horrified than ever. Being a very literal young person, she never knew just how much in earnest Holly was when he made such remarks.

“The air, so to speak, being full of dragons in an undeveloped state? ” asked Maude merrily.

“Exactly. And it is unsafe to precipitate too many at once. Pleasant beast, isn’t he? ”

Holly stepped backward to get a better view of his masterpiece, and tipped over a rather shaky stand which had been used to hold the dishes of paint and the turpentine. Fortunately there was not much paint in the pans, and that was in a semi-solid condition, but the bottle of turpentine broke and its contents ran over the polished floor.

“It is very lucky that we moved the rugs before we began,” sighed Louise when the disorder had been cleared away. “Do open some windows, Holly; this turpentine is perfectly suffocating.”

Holly complied. “You see, Millie, what has happened. We made one dragon too many. I was afraid of this when we started the second one.”

In her own mind, Millie saw no connection between the dragon and the accident, but she really did not wish to hear anything further about the possible powers of the uncertain animal Holly had seen fit to make, so she allowed the remark to pass in silence as she helped Louise put things away.

“I really came,” said Maude, “to ask if Holly would make me a design to embroider on a magazine cover, and I’d like this one very much if I may copy it”

“You may, but don’t do it to-night,” said Holly mysteriously.

“No, I won’t,” was Maude’s laughing reply. “I’ll wait for bright sunshine, when dragons have less power.”

“I wish I knew what Holly means when he talks as he did just now,” said Millie while she and Louise were endeavoring to remove the paint from their hands.

“He doesn’t mean anything,” replied Louise, trying the effect of pumice on an especially obstinate spot “I know he doesn’t, but I never know when he doesn’t,” protested Millie rather ambiguously.

“Maude knows; she talked in just the same way, and you understood.”

“I’m used to it, and Maude likes the same kind of things Holly does, so she understands because of that. I’d be so happy if I could draw as he does. It’s discouraging not to do anything really well, only be just ordinary.”

“Look at me! There’s my mother, who plays so beautifully, and I can’t tell one tune from another. I’m surely hopelessly ordinary 1 ” ended Millie with a cheerful giggle.

“You’re a dear, anyway 1” and Louise hugged her regardless of her soapy hands. “Ordinary people are the most comfortable for every day.”

That evening Mont chanced to pick up three different articles and on each was a daub of blue paint which transferred itself to his fingers. This was exasperating even to his naturally sweet disposition, but at his disgusted comment, Holly and Louise only laughed, and Holly remarked, “It’s all the fault of that second dragon 1 ” nor would he give any explanation to his annoyed and mystified brother.

Having stenciled all the afternoon, Louise was obliged to spend the evening over her lessons. It seemed trying and not quite fair that Holly should in an hour prepare three recitations with perfect ease and then go off to the gymnasium with Rob, while she worked patiently over an algebra problem that would not come out in any sensible solution. Finally she laid it before Mont, who looked up from his Greek, bent his grave brown eyes for one instant over her work, immediately pointed a pencil at a glaring mistake and without comment again gave his attention to the wanderings of Odysseus.

Louise corrected her work with a conviction more deeply rooted than ever, that she, also, must be “hopelessly ordinary,” for it did not seem possible any sane person could make so obvious a blunder.

Rob and Holly came in with glowing diedcs and bringing a burst of cold air. Mont was still studying, but Louise had given it up and was idly watching the fire.

“Louise,” inquired Holly as he came to warm his cold fingers, “who does the mending now? I haven’t any socks and I want some.”

“O dear! ” exclaimed his sister, “I forgot about them! Sarah does it, all but the stockings, and mother said I was to do those because they are hard on Sarah’s eyes. There must be a fearful pile of them, for I didn’t do them the week they left, nor last week, nor this either! ”

“There must be a haystack of them. Just mend me some for to-morrow, will you? ”

“Holly, I don’t see how I can. It will take forever, and I have such heaps to do! I must finish my Christmas things and I want to make some candy for that sale at the church, and Mrs. Baldwin has asked me to serve at her tea on Friday, and I can’t miss that because it is the very first time anyone has ever thought me grown-up enough to help with a reception! I haven’t done my Latin for tomorrow and I’ve an essay due on Tuesday. Robin, you make such nice candy, won’t you do that for me?”

“You are trying to do too much,” observed Mont judicially, as he closed his Homer.

“I am not! ” exclaimed Louise indignantly. “I only have more to do than you boys. I wish I was a boy; all the extra work you have is the furnace and to shovel paths and sweep porches! And, Mont, it is my own affair how much I choose to do! ”

“Don’t be a pepper-pot,” remarked her brother imprudently.

This from Mont was too much, and Louise rushed up to her room in a passion of angry tears. Her conscience was not wholly clear, for it was a temptation to neglect real duties for the pleasanter holiday work, and she had so many calls and invitations from her own and her mother’s friends that both time and strength had been over-taxed.

Louise’s common sense came to the rescue in a few moments and she was ashamed of her outburst Holly had helped her all the afternoon, Mont had left his own studying to find her mistake in algebra, and Rob had said he would make the candy. She went to bed with the firm resolution to do all the mending before she touched her Christmas sewing again.

She was almost asleep when some one knocked softly and then opened the door.

“Are you awake, Louise?” asked Mont’s pleasant voice.

“Yes, what is it?”

“Bert says the steamer is in at Naples; he has just telephoned to Boston. It will be in the paper to-morrow.”

“Isn’t that good! I’m so glad they have landed. Mont, come here, will you?”

Mont, with hands in his pockets came slowly over to the little white bed, and allowed himself to be pulled down so that his sister could whisper in his ear. He straightened up again with a little laugh.

“That’s all right, Pussy; only I really think you get too tired and are trying to do too much. Can’t you cut out some of it? ”

“It is a great help to have Rob make that candy. I was foolish to say I would, but it is so hard to refuse when people ask you. I am going to manage better after this.”

Mont took the pretty pink puff from the footboard and spread it carefully over his sister.

“Bert says it is growing very cold. You will need this before morning. Good-night, Pussy.”

Louise returned the greeting and went to sleep much comforted.

CHAPTER IV

THE STUDENT COMMITTE

IT was early in the gray dawn of the next morning when Louise opened one eye, tentatively. It was cold and still quite dark, but sounds from the kitchen and the passing of milk wagons showed her it was no longer night. It took considerable resolution to rise from her warm, cosy bed and dress in the chilly room, but she did not hesitate.

On her way downstairs she secured the pile of stockings from the mending basket, and went on to the living-room. The fire was out on the cold hearth and the furnace had evidently not started its day’s work. It was singular, too, how die disorder that had seemed homelike and pleasant in the light of fire and lamp, showed in a different aspect under the gray morning.

Louise found a wrap and curled herself on the window seat to begin her sewing. Mary was setting the table for breakfast, and she could hear Sarah’s deep voice in conversation with the milkman. Presently Sarah came in.

“You up, deary? I’m just going to start the fire.”

Sarah smiled as she saw Louise’s task, and indeed Louise was looking puzzled.

“Sarah, did you mend these?” she demanded suddenly, for she could not find a single hole.

“No, deary, I can’t use my eyes on black. But I knew you were busy, so I told Mary to do them. She might just as well be doing something useful as reading a cheap novel while she is tending telephone and bell for the doctor.”

Sarah was on her knees before the fire, a convenient attitude for Louise to come and hug her.

“You’ve enough to do, deary,” she said gently.

“Yes, but I feel ashamed, for mother told me to do them.”

“It’s queer,” said Sarah reflectively, “how much I do feel to miss your mother. She hardly ever came to my room, only when there was something special to plan about, and yet it is as lonesome there as can be. It’s all right, deary; you’ve no need to be ashamed. I’ve seen how much you had to do, and your mother sets such store by you that she’d never have said it if she thought it was going to over-tax you. Mary can attend to the stockings right along till after Christmas, and then you’ll have more time, and you can do them if you feel like it.”

Sarah was smoothing Louise’s hair with a toil-worn hand whose touch was as gentle as Mrs. Gordon’s own.

“Now don’t you let them rope you into much Christmas work at the church, either. For the land’s sake, what’s happened to this floor?”

Louise could not help laughing at Sarah’s shocked face.

“Turpentine, is it? Well, if niight be something worse. The floor will have to be waxed and polished, but I suppose that will have to wait till after the holidays, when I can get hold of one of the boys and nail him down to it. Boys at their best are such random animals! ” sighed Sarah.

Louise laughed and then caught sight of a wonder through the eastern window. The sky was a pale blue, and full of countless little puffy pink clouds.

“Yes,” said Sarah when they had watched it fade into the light of day, “it always seems to me as if the Lord purposely gave us two pictures each twenty-four hours to look at, only half the world doesn’t lode. It is one of my blessings that my room has a west window and the kitchen looks to the east Now, deary, what do you want for dessert to-day; rice pudding or gingerbread with whipped cream?”

Louise decided for the gingerbread, knowing the boys were all especially fond of it, and having made the stockings into neat rolls, took up her Caesar with renewed courage. The fire was leaping and crackling merrily on the wide hearth; its very presence seemed to restore the home feeling to the house. Sarah went about the room quietly restoring it to its usual condition of neatness, putting magazines and papers in orderly piles, brushing desk and table. She cast a meditative glance at the brown head bent so intently over the book in the window seat, and then began to dust. This was Louise’s daily duty, and when she realized what was happening, she roused herself to protest and seize the duster.

Sarah yielded it, for she knew Mrs. Gordon’s theories in regard to her daughter’s having certain daily tasks to perform, but personally Sarah would have spared Louise’s girlish hands ‘all disagreeable duties.

It was very quiet on the third floor that morning. Usually there was more or less noise and merriment while the three brothers, so nearly of an age, were dressing, but as Louise dusted, she noticed that complete silence reigned above.

Just as she finished, Mont came down, not as usual whistling soft strains of “Gypsy John,” which music ordinarily heralded his approach.

“Morning, Pussy. Holly has a splitting headache.”

“Isn’t that a shame! I’ll go up and see if I can do anything for him.”

On the stairs Louise met Rob, who passed her with forefingers crossed and a significant gesture toward Holly’s door.

Holly had thrown his pillows on the floor, ahd was lying with his head tipped so far back that only a white triangle of chin was visible as his sister came in.

Louise hesitated as she looked at him, for there were lines of pain about forehead and mouth, and Rob’s pantomime had not been reassuring. After a moment she gently smoothed back the tumbled hair. Mont always liked to be petted, but with Holly it depended on his mood, while Rob was seldom demonstrative, even to his mother.

Holly did not repulse the caress, but murmured with the ghost of a smile, “Too many dragons! ”

“I’m very sorry, Holly dear. Can I do anything?”

The only answer was a grunt that did not sound affirmative. Louise spent five minutes in straightening the disorder of the room and ended her ministrations by shading the windows, shutting the clock into the closet, and placing fresh water within reach. Her brother would probably be a prisoner of pain for some hours, and when his headaches were at their worst, even trivial causes added greatly to his discomfort “I shall ask Bert to come and see you. I hope it won’t be very had, Holly dear.”

Louise kissed his forehead lightly, But the pale face might have been cut from marble, it was so absolutely expressionless.

“What has Holly been doing?” inquired Bert when he learned the reason of the empty seat at the breakfast-table.

Louise had feared that the stenciling and close work of the previous afternoon was really the cause of her brother’s indisposition, for Holly was under orders to spend all possible time in the sunshine and fresh air. It was a relief to hear from Rob that he had over-exerted himself at the gymnasium until his imprudence had been noted and stopped by the instructor.

“Holly cannot go to the gymnasium if he won’t be careful what he does,” commented Bert with tome displeasure. He did not himself understand why Holly had never learned from experience how much he could do. His spirits were so much in excess of his physical strength that he was continually over-taxing himself, and somehow he never learned that needed lesson in moderation.

Millie was watching at the window for Louise, and the moment the pretty brown beaver hat with its soft velvet bow appeared around the corner, she was at the gate to join her friend.

“How are the dragons?” she inquired.

“There were too many! Holly has a dreadful headache. I thought I ought to stay at home, but Bert said I needn’t Only, Millie, I can’t go down town after school as we planned. You see Holly will feel so badly when the headache does go, and be fearfully fussy and have to be coaxed to eat anything. Mont has an athletic association meeting after school, and Rob is no use when anybody is ill. Why, once I came in feeling so badly that I just collapsed on the front stairs and asked Rob to get me some water. He brought it, but it was warm water! Oh, it did make me sick! But you see, Millie, I must go directly home.”

“It’s singular he has such headaches when the rest of you never do,” commented Millie rather ruefully, for she was disappointed.

“When people are twins one is often stronger than the other. Holly is much cleverer mentally than I am, but I am stronger physically. I suppose that is partly the reason, but of course he is always doing crazy things that he has no need to do, and which make him ill.”

Louise was not surprised when Millie finally announced that she should postpone her shopping till the following day. They were a little delayed in leaving school, for Millie was detained to write a German exercise, and Louise waited, expecting each moment to be the last.

“I am going to make the other two dragons when I get home. That is, if I can’t do anything for Holly. Why, what are those boys doing?”

The girls had come to a corner where another street crossed Walden at right angles. It led to a vacant lot at the side of the river and here a lively snow-ball fight was in progress, for the early snow had been followed by other flurries till the country was white in its winter raiment.

“Why, it’s our boys!” exclaimed Millie, suddenly realizing that the fight was not wholly good-natured, “and the Catholic school! Won’t Dr. Callendar be furious?”

Just outside the town was a large Catholic seminary for boys, and between its pupils and the High’ School lads there existed a perpetual feud. No one knew its origin or reason, and individual members of the High School, when questioned, admitted that they had nothing whatever against the other school, that the boys “weren’t half bad” fellows, yet they clung to the old feud that had been handed down for several school generations. Perhaps it was only an outcropping of the barbarism latent in most boys. During summer, when both schools had a vacation, the trouble was much allayed, but in term-time, especially when there was snow to be used as ammunition, the feud blazed fiercely; more or less damage was done, and hard feeling produced. Dr. Calendar, and Father Doyle, the Sejninary principal, had done all in their power to better matters, but neither appeals to public sentiment, nor carefully planned athletic contests between the schools, had been successful in bringing about a permanent improvement in affairs. Up to the present time, Father Doyle had been able, with the stricter discipline of a boarding school, to keep his pupils under closer supervision than Dr. Callendar, who could not know much that went on after school was dismissed. It must be admitted that the town boys did not further their principal’s effort in the interests of peace. While the better class of lads did not take the offensive, they were quick to assume the defensive side, if any reason, however slight, was given them. To-day an idle snow-ball, thrown by one of the Seminary lads, chanced to hit Fred Phelps. The result was a pitched battle which did not end till one of the teachers appeared with a stern command to his boys to return to the Seminary grounds. The High School had had too hard a fight to care to give chase, even if they had dared to follow with Father Hogan covering the retreat of their late opponents. They only yelled and jeered, forgetful of the black eyes or nosebleed that some of them had suffered. It was the end of the fight upon which the girls had happened, and they had not reached home before Rob overtook them, and Mont was not far behind. Rob was hot and breathless, with a bruise on his cheek, while Mont had been running, and seemed disturbed.

“Were you in that row, Mont?” inquired Louise.

” No, I wasn’t; you know father forbade us to get into scraps with the Seminary boys. It’s only the tougher set in the High School that does it,” replied Mont with an indignant glance at Rob.

“Oh, quit preaching, Mont Sid was there, and Aldrich, and Nichols and Haven and Phelps.”

“I don’t care if they were. I’m willing myself to fight, if there is any good reason for doing it, but these senseless scraps make me tired. You’ll do it once too often sometime.”

“Father would not like it at all,” said Louise. “1 don’t see why you and the Seminary can’t let each other alone.”

“We could and would if the popular opinion of the school was on the right side. You girls could help if you chose. It’s because all the girls and most of the best fellows don’t care and don’t do anything, and some of the freshies and sophs think it is smart, and so it gets laid to the credit of the whole school. There aren’t more than twenty fellows who really enjoy this state of things.”

“How can the girls do anything?”

“You can, and it is quite as worthy an undertaking as your crusade against cigarettes. There will never be an end to this hard feeling until the whole High School unites to suppress it You know we put down cheating last year, just by making it unpopular, and we did it ourselves, — something the teachers couldn’t accomplish. This could be done in the same way. I know the seniors have talked of having a class meeting to discuss it. When it is once made a matter of public opinion, that will end it.”

“I can’t see why boys have to fight, anyway,” commented Millie, as die turned in at her driveway.

Holly was asleep when they reached home, a sure sign that he was feeling better, so Louise hastened through her lunch, did her lessons hurriedly and was working over the other end of the dragon table-runner when Bert came in. He seemed busy and looked tired. Office hours just over, he was going out for some calls.

“Louise, I wish you would persuade Hollis to eat something, broth or soup or something of that kind. His headache is gone, but he is much exhausted, and he ought not to fast any longer if he can be induced to eat.”

“All right, I will,” said Louise, though the interruption was unwelcome. She really meant to go at once, but she was at a critical point in her work, and it was three-quarters of an hour later before she laid down her brush. Sarah had some chicken broth ready, and Louise arranged a dainty tray with a pretty cup and saucer, the whitest of linen, and the brightest of silver spoons, knowing that her brother would be exceedingly fastidious.

Holly was still in bed, with dark circles under his closed eyes, but the pale face was no longer set with determination to conquer pain; it was relaxed into lines of utter weariness. He was not asleep, but paid no attention till she had tried three times to rouse him. Then he opened his eyes, cast one glance at the tray and closed them again. It took patient and persistent effort to induce him even to taste the broth.

“Do finish it, Holly.”

“I don’t want it, — take it away. I have had all I want”

Holly’s impatient movement was unintentional, but the cup capsized, its contents running over the tray and Louise’s dress. She would scarcely have been human had she not given an exclamation both provoked and dismayed, but it roused her brother to desperation.

“Do go away, Louise I I’d rather have a raccoon for a nurse!”

This was both unjust and unkind, for Louise had been very patient. She went without a word, but with hot tears filling her eyes. She could not be cross in return, since Hollis felt so badly, but she deserved credit for the things she did not say. By the time her dress was changed, she had recovered her equanimity and could even sympathize with her brother.

“It is horrid to be urged to eat when you don’t want to,” she admitted to herself. “Holly likes to have his hair brushed; perhaps that will rest him.”

Holly said nothing when his sister returned and began gently to comb his thick wavy hair. Fifteen or twenty minutes passed and still she continued her self-imposed task.

“Louise, did I bust that cup?”

“No. Do you want some more now?”

“I’d like an orange.”

Holly seemed to feel better; he watdied Louise peel the fruit and divide it into dainty sections.

“I wonder,“he said lazily, “if raccoons can peel oranges.”

Louise looked up quickly. Holly’s tired gray eyes had a suspicion of their usual fun coming back to them.

“I don’t know,“she replied demurely. “I know they soak hard bread in water before they eat it, but I doubt if they could peel oranges neatly. I might look in the big natural history downstairs.”

“Oh, it doesn’t matter, only I guess it is an essential for a nurse.”

The gray eyes were really laughing now, and Louise smiled too at this queer apology.

“There it is, Holly, and you do feel better, don’t you?”

“Oh, yes, I shall be as right as a trivet after another nap.”

There was no school, however, for Holly the next day, and so he missed an occurrence of great interest After the opening exercises, which always took place in the hall with the entire school assembled, Dr. Callendar made a speech regarding the snowball fight of the previous afternoon.

“I do not intend to have a repetition, this winter, of last year’s troubles, and so I wish to suggest a new plan. I understand that the seniors, and probably the juniors, have an idea of taking some class action. Now I believe thoroughly in the principles of student government, and I think there is not a boy or a girl here present who doesn’t realize that it is for the school to decide whether its members shall stand for the right Yesterday’s disturbance was confined almost entirely to the two lower classes, and though several of the participants are known to me, I shall reserve judgment. What I propose is that a committee shall be appointed, consisting of nine members; four seniors, three juniors, and one each from the sophomore and freshman classes. You will see that it is just that the older members shall preponderate, while each class is represented. The turn of the younger classes will come as they go up in the school.

“This committee will constitute a student governing board, with whom I mean to consult in matters that concern the school as a whole, and to whom I intend to turn over some cases of discipline. This seems to me a matter of such importance that today we will omit the recitations of the last period in order to allow each class to hold a meeting and appoint its representatives. Then I shall ask the members of this committee to report to me the exact opinion of the class they represent about this snow-ball fight yesterday. And I hope, young ladies and gentlemen, that your choice will be governed by those qualifications that you honestly respect; that you will choose to represent you, those of your classmates who are nearest your ideals of true manliness or genuine womanhood. Let your selection be that of honest, unbiased respect.”

The big room was very still as Dr. Callendar finished. Louise leaned forward to look at Mont. This was probably what he meant when he spoke the previous afternoon. Mont was in a deep study, his hands in his pockets, and his brown eyes fixed on the floor.

There was little chance for comment until recess, for recitations began immediately, but at the intermission everybody talked at once. All were interested, and the plan seemed to meet with universal approval. Teachers and pupils alike were expectant, as the classes filed back into the hall to report the result of their elections.

The president of each class brought to Dr. Cal lendar a slip with the names of the chosen members. A deep silence settled over the room as he took the first paper.

“The freshman class has chosen for its representative, Roger Perry.”

This was a praiseworthy selection, and Dr. Calendar looked pleased.

“The sophomore representative is Stafford Al-den.”

Another good choice. The two younger classes had done themselves credit “The juniors have chosen Maude Kimball, Montrose Gordon and Myron Hawkins.”

‘The senior list is as follows: Elsie Adams, Florence Green, Arthur Stanton, Harry McColl.”

There was a burst of applause, in which the teachers joined. Every boy and girl on the four lists was respected by the entire school.

“I congratulate you, young ladies and gentlemen, on your choice. It is admirable; every member of this committee is one who deserves, in every particular, to be upon it. Now, I should like to see these nine for a few minutes in my office.”

Louise was so pleased that she could hardly wait for the committee meeting to be over before congratulating Mont. It was not a long session and she was lingering in the corridor.

“I’m so glad, Mont; I hoped you’d be on the committee, and I was sure you would.”

V We chose Mont first of all,” said Maude, smiling at Louise’s pride and satisfaction.

“I am glad you are on it, too, Maude, but I did want Mont to have a chance, because he has thought all along that this was the right way to work.”

“I’m only one of nine; you mustn’t think I’m the whole thing, Louise.”

Still, Mont was pleased, for he had been the first unanimous choice of his class. Like Holly, he was a favorite with the whole school, though in quite a different way, and for a very different reason.

The “Gleaner,” the school paper, had published in its first issue that fall, some descriptive quotations about different pupils, and Louise had brought that number home in triumph to her mother, for among others, it read:

“Montrose Gordon, — Is always known to do and say, The kindest thing in the kindest way.”

“I hope Rob wasn’t reported,” said Mont as he and Louise finished telling Holly about the excitement, “but I feel sure Dr. Callendar doesn’t mean to take any action about yesterday.”

That evening Louise was working busily over her Christmas sewing, under the lamp in the living-room, when Mont came in and threw himself on the lounge. That was Holly’s usual place, but Bert had sent him to bed very early.

“Tired, Mont?”

“Yes, I’m as tired as a bird dog.”

“Why don’t you go to bed?”

“Against my principles to go before nine.”

“Where have you been?”

“Talking with Arthur and Stafford about the committee. I think it will work well.”

Mont presently turned his face from the light and apparently went to sleep. It was just nine when Louise contemplated the finished table-runner, and Bert came in.

“Any of the boys here?”

“There’s Mont. Holly’s in bed, you know, and Rob is at the Reads’.”

Mont, will you go to the drug store for me? I want an order filled immediately. It is important, and I have telephoned it, so the prescription should be ready when you get there.”

Mont did not move, but replied very distinctly, “No, I won’t!”

Both Bert and Louise stared at him, for it was utterly unlike Mont After a second, Dr. Jennings, with a muttered exclamation, turned on his heel, and walked out of the room. The next instant Louise heard the outer door close behind him.

“Goodness, Mont! what did you do that for?” she asked in shocked amazement, but there was no answer.

“I believe the boy was asleep,” said Louise, going over to the lounge. At her touch her brother sat up sleepily.

“Why did you say that to Bert?” she asked reproachfully, but Mont merely looked at her in surprise. Louise explained, but her brother continued to gaze at her in bewilderment.

“What are you trying to give us? I never said one word to Bert Of course I would not refuse if he asked me.”

“But you did, Mont,” insisted Louise. “He was here and asked you not three minutes ago, and now he has gone for himself.”

When Mont was fully convinced of what had happened, he was much disturbed.

“You’re not stuffing me, Louise, on your honor?”

“I am not; you refused him point-blank.”

Mont went out at once, but he missed Dr. Jennings, who came in while Louise was still alone. She hastened to explain the matter, which struck the doctor as a tremendous joke. When Mont returned, still looking disturbed, he found Bert laughing heartily.

“Latest edition of the sleeping beauty, Mont?”

“Bert, I never knew you spoke to me. Of course I would have gone gladly. It’s very queer how I happened to say that.”

“I’ll admit I was somewhat staggered, Mont. It was rather a shock to receive so flat a refusal from a person as obliging as you usually are. I was a bit annoyed with you, but of course it is all right now, only please don’t add sleep-walking to your sleep-talking, or there will be trouble indeed.”

“I’ll try not to, but isn’t there another errand you want done?”

“Not to-night,” said Bert with a pleasant smile. “You’d better go to bed.”

“I’m going at once,” said Louise, “for I can scarcely keep my eyes open.”

After her departure, Mont told Bert about the student committee.

“That’s the right way to begin,” commented Dr. Jennings, “only your committee will have one difficulty.”

Mont looked up inquiringly and the doctor went on. “To be absolutely impartial. I judge some questions of discipline will be turned over to you for solution, and the difficulty will lie with die personal equation. Won’t it make a difference whether the offender with whom you have to deal, is a recognized rowdy like George Nolan, or a sunshiny scamp like Holly Gordon, for instance?”

Mont was silent for a little. “Why shouldn’t it make a difference? Everyone knows Nolan is a bully and a rowdy, and —”

“Everyone loves Holly,” finished Bert smiling.

“Holly is very popular,” said Mont “And deservedly. Yet it isn’t the truest kind of popularity.”

“What do you mean? Isn’t true popularity based on personal liking?”

“In part. Its firmest basis is personal respect.” Mont was silent, recalling one occasion when Hollis had read a clever essay to the assembled school He remembered the curious smile with which the audience had settled itself to listen, a smile half-indulgent, half-affectionate, such as one might give to a beloved but mischievous child.

Dr. Jennings wound his watch, looked over his note-bode, and again turned to his companion who was thoughtfully contemplating the dying fire.

“You don’t quite see what I mean, do you, about popularity? For example, if a vote should be taken for the most popular boy in school, Holly would almost undoubtedly be chosen, would he not?”

“Yes,” replied Mont quickly.

“Yet Holly was not considered for this student committee; no one would seriously think of having so happy-go-lucky, heedless a representative, no matter how great his personal charm.”

“Yes, I see what you mean.”

“Holly is a dear fellow,” remarked Bert after a pause. “But it is sometimes difficult to be personally loyal, and at the same time, absolutely just.” Dr. Jennings went away, but Mont sat thinking for some moments longer. He was fond of both his younger brothers, yet realized that it was with a decided difference. When Rob got into trouble, Mont was accustomed, before taking his part, to investigate the matter, while he was usually ready to stand up for Holly whether he was right or wrong.

CHAPTER V

ROB’S EXPERIMENT

MRS. JENCKES, coming hastily into her pretty upstairs sitting-room one day shortly before Christmas, was greeted by a squeal from Millie and a smothered squeak from Louise.

“Now, mamma, don’t you look! Did you see anything? Oh, how you startled me! I thought you were making calls.”

“No, I won’t look and I didn’t see anything, and I’m quite too busy to make calls, even if my neighbors weren’t also too busy to receive me. I do want to use my sewing-table though; mayn’t I stay if I draw this screen around so that I can’t possibly see what you are doing?”

“Yes, that will do, only you mustn’t hear anything either!”

“Millie, you are telling too much!” laughed Louise.

“I’ll try to be both blind and deaf, but is Louise’s work also a secret? If not, I’d like to look.”

“No, it is only a tie I am crocheting for Holly,” replied Louise, holding it up for Mrs. Jenckes’s examination.

“What a pretty shade of silk, and how evenly you have done it,” said Mrs. Jenckes, looking at it carefully.

“I ought to do it fairly well by this time, for I have made a blue one for Mont and a dark red one for Rob. Isn’t this a pretty color, a real bronze gold? It exactly matches Holly’s hair, for once, when he didn’t know, I cut off a little lock. Mother went with me to choose the colors and she was so amused when I took out my little curly sample.”

“I think myself that was very funny,” laughed Mrs. Jenckes.

“Holly didn’t know I took it I made Mont’s tie right under his very nose and he never saw it. Neither he nor Rob notices such things, but Holly always wants to know exactly what you are making and all about it. Mother doesn’t mind his asking; if she’s cutting out anything or stitching it, he always has to be told what it is, but sometimes I wish he wouldn’t.”

Mrs. Jenckes ensconced herself behind the screen and obediently tried to be oblivious of all that went on, but she could not help hearing the regular sound of Millie’s punch and an occasional metallic crackle.

“Brass shades for the dining-room candles,” she thought with a smile. “I hope Millie won’t get any silk to line them, for the dear child has no idea of harmonizing colors, and I do feel particular about my Delft dining-room. She won’t get it, though, without consulting Louise, so I’ll hope for the best A girl who matches her brother’s necktie to his hair isn’t likely to let Millie perpetrate anything very fearful.”

The dainty waist she had embroidered for her daughter and made lovingly with hand-run tucks and quaint French knots absorbed her attention and she scarcely noticed the undercurrent of conversation between the girls. She was intent upon a buttonhole when she heard them gathering their things together as if for departure.

“You needn’t have the screen any longer,” came Millie’s voice. “I’ve reached the point now where I can’t do any more, and I’m going home with Louise for a moment. Shall I take it away?”

“Oh, wait, Millie, just leave it 1” as her daughter’s fingers appeared around the edges. “There might be something you couldn’t see! Don’t stay long, dear, for it will soon be dusk.”

The candle shades were punched and cut out, but a stronger pair of hands was needed to put in and fasten the rivets.

“Mont will do it,” Louise had whispered when Millie in pantomime conveyed her inability to handle the stiff brass; so the girls put on their wraps and went out into the clear winter afternoon.

Rob was in the library when they came in, not as usual reading, but examining carefully the contents of a glass-fronted case in the comer. Dr. Gordon had at intervals collected a number of antique arms; muskets of revolutionary date, flintlocks, weapons of 1812 and later patterns used in the Civil War, together with small arms of ancient style and make. They were of considerable historical value and antiquarian interest, and the children had often flattened their noses against the glass door, or watched intently while the doctor cleaned and polished a new acquisition.

Louise did not succeed in finding either Mont or Holly, and it was quite useless to ask Rob, with his proverbial butter-fingers, to undertake so delicate a task as the insertion and fastening of the brass rivets. Sarah had gone out and Mary was reading in the lower hall, ready to answer either bell or telephone.

“The boys evidently haven’t come in,” said Louise after her fruitless search. “Leave the shades here in my room, Millie, and I’ll get Mont to fix them this evening. It won’t take him five minutes, for he is very clever about doing such things.”

“All right, I will. I’ll just measure and get the silk and fringe to-morrow. Have you a tape-measure?” she asked, following Louise into her room. “Don’t you think red will be the prettiest color?”

“Oh, not for that lovely blue dining-room!” replied Louise promptly as she opened her work-basket. “It should be blue, Millie, a soft Dutch blue.”

“I forgot about the dining-room. White candles with blue silk and fringe; would you like that?”

“Yes indeed, that would be lovely. Perhaps I’ll go shopping with you if I finish my tie. There’s the tape-measure— Oh! Millie, Millie, what is that?”

There was a deafening pistol report from below, and the girls in terror grasped each other. Almost at the same instant, came wild shrieks from Mary.

“Rob! Rob!” called Louise, flying down the stairs after that first pause of utter fright.

There was no answer and Mary, in the hall, was shrieking incoherently, with apron thrown over her head in an agony of terror.

Louise stopped on the stairs, white and weak, clinging to the baluster as she tried to summon resolution to go on. “Rob!” she called again, but there was only silence from the library, broken by Mary’s sobs as she crouched in a comer, apparently bereft of her wits.

The hall was slowly clouding with smoke and the pungent smell of burnt powder came to her nostrils. Millie burst into hysterical tears and tried to pull her friend back.

“What shall I do!” thought Louise. “I must go down; there’s nobody else, but — O God, don’t let it be that!”

Louise never knew how she went down those few remaining stairs and across the hall to the library door. Terrified as she was, with a nameless dread of what might await her there, she nevertheless went, with incoherent words of prayer on her lips. Millie had dropped on the stairs and Mary was still in a spasm of uncontrolled fright.

Louise’s first glance brought such relief that she almost collapsed under the reaction. At least Rob had not injured himself fatally, for he sat on the floor, an old-fashioned pistol beside him, staring with apparent amazement at his left hand, which was covered with blood and powder stains. He did not look up as his sister came in.

“Rob, what have you done? How much are you hurt?” she gasped.

Rob did not answer, but watched with a sort of fascination the blood dropping in a pool on the floor. Louise, with a sob of relief, saw that the damage was evidently only to his hand.

“Mary, where is Dr. Jennings? Rob isn’t killed; he has only hurt his hand.”

Mary covered her ears and emitted another shriek.

“Oh, murder! murder! ’tis killed I am intirely!”

“I’ll see if the doctor’s in,” said Millie, sitting up and dashing away her tears.

Unluckily Bert was out, and Louise, in frightened despair, realized that she was the one who must do something, for Rob seemed stunned and speechless.

“Millie, do go back to the office and find some antiseptic gauze or cotton. It comes in blue paper boxes with a Red Cross seal. You can’t mistake them. Rob, come out to the kitchen and let me wash your hand, please do! Oh, Rob!” as her brother made no move, “only come; there isn’t any one else to do anything!”

Rob rose and yielded to the pressure she exerted as she pulled him by the uninjured hand, but his gaze was still, with that curious concentration, bent on the bleeding wound.

“I wish I knew what to do,” thought Louise with heaving breast. “I must use boiled water; I know as much as that. Oh, the teakettle is on, and it will take only a moment to cool some water out in the snow! That is the right box, Millie,” she added aloud, “and now will you see if you can make Mary stop crying and screaming and find out if she has any idea where Bert has gone or when he’ll be in?”

Rob’s hand was certainly a ghastly-looking object and Louise turned faint and sick as she gently washed it, but much of its horror disappeared as the blood and powder stains were removed. Apparently it had been directly over the muzzle of the revolver, for the bullet had gone completely through the palm. Louise had finished her task and wrapped the hand in cotton before Millie returned.

“That girl is a perfect idiot!” she announced in disgust, “or else she really is scared to death! She hasn’t any idea about it!”

“Then I shall telephone for Dr. Chase,” said Louise firmly. “I don’t know when Bert will come, and we must have somebody.”

Dr. Chase happened to be at home, and within ten minutes drew rein before the Gordon house. He found a thoroughly frightened group of young people, for Rob had recovered from the first benumb- ing effects of the accident, and was white and limp.

“Young man, you were born under a lucky star,” announced the doctor cheerfully after a careful examination. “It isn’t every boy who could send a bullet through his hand and not injure the bones. It is a mere flesh wound, and should have no serious results, especially since this sensible little sister of yours, like her father’s own daughter, so promptly rose to the occasion. The cleansing is well done, only I must draw some antiseptic gauze through the wound with a probe, in order to remove any possible powder grains, and that will hurt Ready, my boy?”

Rob set his teeth and only gave a little gasp over the operation, but poor Louise could bear no more and sank in a heap on the floor.

The next she knew, she was lying on the couch, with Dr. Chase bathing her forehead gently, while Millie, with a tear-stained face, knelt beside her, holding a bottle of smelling salts. Rob, very pale, with his hand neatly bandaged, was watching with anxious eyes from a big chair.

“All right now!” said the doctor soothingly. “You’re a plucky girl, Louise! It took courage to come down to that library. Millie has been telling me about it.”

“How did Rob do it?” asked Louise, trying to keep back the tears.

“He got some bullets from a boy at school and was trying, just for fun, to see if he could load one of those revolvers. He found out. All the fools aren’t dead yet, are they, Robert?”

“No,” replied Rob honestly though he flushed at the doctor’s grave tone. “I didn’t suppose it would go off,” he added, struggling to keep back a sob as the realization of his escape came over him.

“Let’s be very thankful it was no worse,” said Dr. Chase gently. “It is all over, Louise, and there will probably be nothing to follow. Try to forget how frightened you were, and only remember that you’ve been very brave and level-headed. Both you and Rob had better go to bed early. I’ll telephone Dr. Jennings later, and now I’ll give that poor scared maid something to soothe her nerves.”

Louise lay very quietly, clasping Millie’s hand. Was it possible that scarcely twenty minutes ago, they had been so interested in candle shades and blue silk fringe? It all seemed so far away and trivial now.

Mrs. Jenckes had begun to wonder at Millie’s prolonged absence, and was both surprised and distressed at her daughter’s dishevelled appearance when she arrived just as dinner was announced.

“Poor Rob! and poor Louise!“she exclaimed after hearing the story. “That was dreadful, and oh, how much worse it might have been!”

“Louise certainly has the Gordon blood in her and no mistake,” commented Mr. Jenckes. “Think of the sheer grit it took for her to go down after she called, and Rob didn’t answer! No wonder she fainted when it was all over.”

“I know it!” said Mrs. Jenckes. “I think, Millie, you and I will go over after dinner and personally put Louise to bed early as the doctor said. She needs to be petted to-night, and since she can’t have her own mother, perhaps we shall be better than no one.”

“That is such a nice thing to think of, mammal it is exactly like you!” exclaimed Millie appreciatively. “I stayed till Dr. Jennings came. I thought he’d scold Rob, but he didn’t, only looked at him seriously and rumpled up his hair a little, and Rob ’most cried. But he told Louise she was a trump. Mont called Rob an idiot and Holly said he was a clumsy ass. When Sarah came she said it was a merciful Providence, and that Mary was about as useful as a cow-catcher on a jug of mo- lasses! Holly asked, ‘Why molasses?’ but Sarah only sniffed and said she didn’t think Holly would ever amount to much in this world. Holly said he didn’t grasp the connection and he thought the coupling-pin was lost off the cow-catcher. I didn’t myself see why they laughed, for it sounded rather mixed, but I suppose it was funny since papa is laughing too.”

Mr. Jenckes chuckled again, for his literal daughter was a never-failing source of amusement to him.

“It certainly was a providential escape,” he said at last “Do go over, Nan, and tuck the little girl into bed, for she needs to be mothered after such a shock. And Millie, there is a box of chocolates in my coat pocket. I brought it for you, but perhaps you would like to share it with Louise. I’ve noticed that very young ladies find chocolates extremely comforting in all types and degrees of affliction.”

In spite of the shock and fright, it was not probable that the young people realized, as did their elders, how nearly a possible tragedy had been escaped. Mary’s agonized terror seemed excusable when the bullet was found buried in the wall not a yard above her head as she sat reading in the hall. Still, the shadow of what might have been, sobered them all for a little. Rob, ashamed and mortified, bore without a word of complaint some pain and discomfort from his injured hand, but thanks to his perfect health, it healed very quickly and with no ill effect

CHAPTER VI

AUNT HARRIET AND A LETTER

MISS HARRIET GORDON laid aside her magazine, and lorgnette in hand, took a comprehensive survey of the street before her house. It was an attractive residence avenue and her home was one of the stateliest along its borders. Handsome draperies shaded the plate glass window through which she looked, and everything in the room spoke of luxurious comfort, but Miss Gordon herself seemed weary and bored.

Carriages passed coming from a reception; some late delivery wagons rattled by; a happy little child ran gayly ahead of his nurse, excited at his apparent ability to keep beyond her reach; and finally a group of pretty young girls turned the corner.

As Miss Gordon’s eye fell upon them, the moody expression of her face suddenly brightened. She turned from the window, rang the bell, and seated herself in her big chair. Almost instantly a neat maid looked in.

“Jeannette,” said Miss Gordon portentously, “your cap, as usual, is crooked. Straighten it, if you please! Then call up my niece, Miss Louise, and say to her that I desire her company at dinner this evening. Tell her to come at once before it grows any darker. One of her brothers may call for her promptly at nine.”

“Yes’m,” said Jeannette meekly.

Louise, at the other end of the line, did not feel very enthusiastic, though Jeannette’s pleasant voice gave the message as an invitation rather than a command.

“Please thank Aunt Harriet and tell her I will come, but it may not be for a few minutes as I have several things to see about.”

Jeannette could not report the disgusted face that Louise was guilty of making at the telephone receiver as she hung it up, but had she seen it, knowing Miss Gordon as she did, that discreet maid would doubtless have sympathized with the impulse that caused it.

The invitation was unwelcome, for Louise was busy with her Christmas work. She reluctantly put aside the pretty pincushion she was making for Millie and went to her room.

“Aunt Harriet would expect me to have on a proper dinner dress though it was the middle of the night,” she thought and then laughed at her own absurdity.

Mary was evidently busy in the office and Sarah had gone out. Louise, flushed with hurrying and annoyed at her own delay, could not find any one to fasten her dress. Finally she ran up to the third floor.

“I’m sorry, but I shall have to ask you to button my dress.”

Mont complied, and after two patient trials succeeded in getting each button in the proper buttonhole. At the end of the process he contemplated his sister gravely.

“There are twenty-six of those, and I did them all twice. Some day you will appreciate what a good brother I am to you!”

“I appreciate you now,” laughed Louise. ‘* You will come just at nine, won’t you? Don’t be a minute later. You know it is rather dreadful that I have to go.”

“I doubt if I am around then, but I’ll remember to tell one of the others.”

Miss Gordon was watching for Louise’s welcome ring, and her grim face relaxed as she entered. Yet it was not Aunt Harriet’s custom to be cordial and her greeting did not express the real pleasure she felt.

“You are later than I expected, Louise. Give your wraps to Jeannette.”

“I’m sorry, but I really couldn’t help it,” apologized Louise, dutifully kissing her great-aunt.

Divested of her long coat, Louise appeared in a pale green muslin which, though it had seen some service, was still graceful and girlish. Aunt Harriet eyed her critically but saw nothing with which to find fault. Louise’s soft brown hair was prettily and becomingly arranged, her ribbons were fresh, her slim ankles and dainty slippers irreproachable. Aunt Harriet’s manner was more cordial as they went out to dinner, which was served in the stately dining-room with two maids in attendance.

Louise did not enjoy its formality, but sat in her tall carved chair opposite her aunt, very anxious to escape criticism. At best, Aunt Harriet was difficult to talk with, being a person of very positive opinions and a rooted dislike to the possession of opinions by anyone else. Louise’s pretty effort to be entertaining met with appreciation and Aunt Harriet thawed into what for her, was geniality.

“Don’t you like ice-cream, child?” she asked as the dinner drew to its close. “I had them send out especially for it since you were coming.”

“Oh, yes, Aunt Harriet, I do, very much! I was only waiting because it is so pretty! Is yours a pink rose too?”

“No, it’s plain slab,” said Aunt Harriet rather grimly, but Jeannette broke her well-trained silence to explain.

“There was just one flower, Miss Gordon; the rest is a brick. Cook thought Miss Louise would like it.”

“Oh, I do!” exclaimed Louise. “It was kind of her to think of it, Jeannette.”

Jeannette’s face broke into a smile, and Miss Gordon’s expression softened.

w Well, eat your posy, child, before it melts, and let us get back to a warmer room. There are several questions I wish to ask you.”

After dinner, Aunt Harriet desired Jeannette to wind the big music box in the hall and then sent her for a certain jewel case. From it she took a lovely necklace of pale pink coral beads of graduated sizes.

“I have always meant you to have this sometime, Louise, and it will look very pretty with the frock you have on.”

Louise was genuinely delighted. Necklaces were the vogue in the school-girl world, and this was a beautiful one. She thanked her aunt heartily and gave her a spontaneous kiss which seemed to please the old lady.

“You are very welcome, Louise. It is simple and girlish enough to be appropriate for you on certain occasions. I am glad to see you don’t bedizen yourself with unsuitable jewelry. Now, what is this I hear about Holly’s upsetting the contribution plate?”

“Aunt Harriet, I don’t know whether he did it or I. It was terribly mortifying.”

“I presume Hollis did it,” commented Aunt Harriet when the mishap had been explained. “Boys are always doing clumsy things.”

“It would not have been strange if Rob had done it, but Holly is not often clumsy,” said Louise loyally. “No one seemed to think it so very dreadful; even Mr. Rounds looked amused.”

“Very likely. I have heard that as a rector he is lacking in dignity.”

Louise did not say anything further about the accident. She tried hard to be entertaining, yet kept one ear open for the expected ring at the door, which came very promptly, the messenger of relief proving to be Holly, who was summoned to speak with his aunt while Louise put on her wraps.

“It seems to me, Hollis, your hair does not grow any darker as you grow older. Your mother said it would, but I never yet saw a red-headed baby who didn’t stay red-headed till the end of the chapter.”

Holly’s hair was rather a sensitive point. It was a beautiful shade of reddish gold and under the electrolier it radiated light like an aureole.

“I could use some dye on it,” he remarked cheerfully. “What color would you recommend, Aunt Harriet?”

“Never set foot in my house again if you do. If the color the Lord made your hair doesn’t suit you, it is impious for you to alter it.”

Holly had a remark on the end of his tongue about the impiety of false teeth, but luckily Louise was ready, and they started homeward, Holly grumbling over his aunt’s comments.

“Really,” he said at last, “it was good of me to come for you to-night and I expect to have an extra star in my heavenly crown on account of it. There’s Mont gone off fussing Maude, and Rob so deep in a book it would take a pickaxe to get him out! Let’s hurry, for there is something at home you don’t know about. If Aunt Harriet hadn’t pitched into me so, I would have told her, but there is no reason for her to be always jumping on a fellow!”

“You’re late enough,” remarked Rob as they came in. “Mont has come and we were going to wait just three minutes longer for you.”

“Wait for what? Oh, you don’t mean there is a letter from mother? How can there be? There hasn’t been time.”

“It was posted at Gibraltar, and we never thought of that.”

“It was sweet of you boys to wait; I’m afraid I should have read it,” confessed Louise as she dropped her wraps on the rug and held out both hands for the missive, “Look at the letter-head; isn’t it interesting?

“My precious girl and boys: — It seems a long time since we said good-bye in the station, (what a lonesome station that is!) and many things have happened since.

“You received a postal from Boston telling of our pleasant evening with Uncle Ned and Aunt Mary. I didn’t feel able at that time to express our feelings regarding Holly’s kind attentions to our luggage, so I suppose I really ought to begin this letter with his naughty joke.”

“What did you do?” inquired Mont, regarding his laughing brother suspiciously.

“Oh, go on, Pussy!” replied Holly with a chuckle.

“We were half-way to Boston when the doctor opened his bag for something, and all over the car flew a shower of rice 1 I was as surprised as he, but I nearly collapsed at the expression on his face, he was so absolutely amazed. Uncle Ned laughed till he literally couldn’t hold up his head, while everyone far and near grasped the situation and joined in the glad chorus. Never have I travelled in such hilarious company! You naughty boy, how could you make a laughing-stock of your poor father and mother?

“Holly, how could you!” exclaimed the scandalized Louise, while Mont and Rob fairly roared with mirth.

“It was quite like a wedding journey;” observed Holly calmly, “the first time they’ve ever been away together without at least one kid along. I thought it fitting to provide them with rice. It was the most expensive kind of rice too,” he added thoughtfully.

At this, Mont, with a howl, subsided on the couch. “Oh, I can just see them when it happened! I’d give a dollar to have been there.”

It was some time before Louise would admit that the situation was at all ludicrous, but she finally smiled.

“Just hear what she says next! Listen now, Holly.

“Unde Ned and Aunt Maiy were much diverted by the instant unanimity with which we agreed on the probable culprit. It was not difficult; we are quite aware which is the naughtiest of our four children.”

“There, now will you be good?” laughed Mont.

“I think I’ve heard that statement before,” said Holly serenely. “It has a familiar sound. Just read it again, Pussy, and see if I really do recog-mze it.

“Holly, you are simply dreadful!” expostulated Louise. “My poor darling mother, and all that rice! You certainly didn’t get spanked enough when you were little!”

“That wasn’t my fault; it was theirs!” retorted her mischievous brother. “That proves they are to blame for it all! Do go on, Pussy, or let me read.”

“I have managed to leave most of the rice at Aunt Mary’s, I think, but I suppose stray grains will continue to fall out at embarrassing moments. The doctor woke up at intervals all that night to laugh over it, but perhaps, on the whole, it is fortunate for Holly that he is beyond reach of parental discipline just now!”

“I hope you’ll never do such a thing again,” remarked Louise severely.

“Of course I sha’n’t. There wouldn’t be any point in doing it twice.”

Louise gave the matter up as hopeless and turned again to the letter.

“Next day the whole family saw us off. Your father was quite distressed that he had not planned to have you all come and see us sail, but I am glad you didn’t. It is hard enough to say good-bye when the train whisks one away in an instant, but is unbearable when the steamer moves off inch by inch I

“We have a pleasant stateroom with enough space so we can, with care, both stand on the floor at once, but we have to take turns in dressing. On our arrival we found so many flowers and so much fruit sent by different friends that we had scarcely room for our suit-cases.

“There are some delightful people on board, several whom we knew before, and others with whom we have mutual acquaintances. It has been very smooth, and except for a slight dizziness one evening I have not had a vestige of seasickness. Though the water has been quiet, the weather has been gray and chilly and if we stay in our steamer chairs we have to be warmly tucked in, though it is pleasantly cool for games and brisk walks. Eleven times around the deck is a mile, and it is funny to see determined pedestrians taking their daily constitutionals.

“In the morning the bath steward comes to tell us our baths are ready, and it is necessary to be prompt, for fifteen minutes later it is some one else’s turn. It is a salt-water bath, either warm or cold, plunge or shower, as one prefers, and it is very luxurious. Half an hour before breakfast the bugle blows, and again when breakfast is ready. The table is very good indeed; there is great variety and the food is nicely cooked and served.

“After breakfast we walk around the deck, and then the doctor tucks me up for a nap or a story, while he plays cards in the smoking-room. At eleven the steward brings beef-tea, and though it is not long since breakfast, one is always ready for it. Lunch is at one, and then we talk and take naps or play games till afternoon tea is served at four. It grows dark rather early and the deck seems cheerless and cold, so after we have watched the sunset, if there is one, we go down to dress for dinner and chat together, often about our dear children! Dinner over, there is usually music or some entertainment, and always there are pleasant people to talk with. It is a very care-free existence, and I am delighted to see your father really resting. It is doing him a world of good.

“One day is just like another except when we see a vessel on the horizon or catch a wireless from some steamer beyond our view. The operators are continually on the watch for such wandering messages and it seems almost miraculous to step in from the cold darkness of the deck with the black water so far below, and in the bright little office see a communication being received from a steamer a hundred miles away in the night. Twice we have been warned of icebergs.

“The one excitement of the day is the posting of the steamer’s run during the last twenty-four hours and the marking on a chart of our exact position on the Atlantic. We shall touch at Gibraltar and I am planning to send this back from there.

“Now I am coming to the dear steamer letters and packages, which we opened at the exact time indicated for each. We were so pleased and surprised and appreciate so much your thoughtfulness! I shall find Pussy’s compact little mending case just what I need, and the doctor is already using his new memorandum book. We have both laughed again and again over Holly’s clever picture letter. Such cunning little drawings! It seems almost a pity they are not on something more permanent than letter paper. We are reading and greatly enjoying Mont’s * story a day ’ envelope. The dear boy must have spent a long time finding all those nice tales! Rob’s tin box of pop-corn was a complete surprise, and whether or not it has been the cause of our escaping seasickness, it has certainly been appreciated. Sarah’s delicious ginger snaps, in spite of all we have to eat, have proved a real necessity. Tell Bert his violets lasted five days; I took great care of them and wore them to dinner every night.

“We had many other steamer letters and it was delightful to have these friendly missives strewn along the days of our journey. Now we are beginning to study our Italian guide-book and plan what we shall do with ourselves. For a little, we shall probably stay in southern Italy, perhaps at Sorrento or Capri, and then go to Rome, where we mean to make a long stay.

“What fun it would be if I could look in on you just now! Wouldn’t we have a general hug? I am afraid Aunt Mary is concerned for my family during our absence, but I am confident of Bert’s kindness and Sarah’s faithfulness and I know my children all love one another and try to do what they should, and when people really care they can always get along together.

“My letters, I think, must be common property unless in some exceptional circumstance, but I want you all to write. Father would like the rest of this sheet, so good night, with much love and a kiss apiece. I am not sure Holly deserves one, but after all, I think he must have it!”

“Virtue is its own reward,” commented Holly gravely, while Mont laughed again and Rob remarked,

“Yes, you can bank on Holly’s getting all that’s coming to him. What does dad say?”

The doctor’s postscript was rather short. It ended by wishing them a merry Christmas in Boston and promising a longer letter from Italy.

“We shall not do much travelling for awhile, — perhaps stay around Naples for a few weeks unless the climate proves too enervating for your mother. Why didn’t I bring you all with me? I need every one of you this minute; Louise to sit on my knee, Holly to sketch these porpoises for me, Rob to read aloud and Mont to look up the steamer for Capri. As for Holly, he certainly got ahead of us for once, but it isn’t often, is it, sonny? Be good children; don’t bum down the house nor blow up the auto; don’t turn Bert’s hair gray with your actions, nor forget the old father whose hair is already gray. Also write regularly if you don’t wish your dreams to be haunted.”

“Isn’t it lovely to hear?” said Louise, her brown eyes a little moist. “And this was posted on the way, so we should have another soon.”

“Once the communication is established they should come regularly,” replied Mont “I hope ours will reach them at Naples. Here’s Bert! He will like to hear it, and Sarah too.”

Bert went into a spasm of laughter over the opening paragraphs of the letter, but Sarah looked grim and evidently doubted if Hollis would ever become a useful member of society, or a credit to his family.

“It is just as well it is Friday evening,” Bert remarked at length. “I have noticed lately that the hours at which you young people go to bed are not those recommended in the ‘Guides for Inexperienced Mothers.’”

“It has been exceptionally necessary lately, Bert.”

“It seems probable it will be exceptionally necessary from now till Christmas, Louise. I am not sure but we must arrange to have the electricity shut off promptly at nine-thirty!”

Louise laughed and went with the rest, but she was too excited to sleep, and read the letter again.

“We have got along very well,” she thought in a little burst of self-righteousness. “I think I have managed the boys nicely.”

There was another side to this which did not occur to Louise. The boys had been very good to her, and had not teased her seriously. She had yet to discover whether her patience would stand any severe test

CHAPTER VII

A STORMY SATURDAY

LOUISE was roused the next morning by Holly’s voice. Something in its tone startled her, and springing out of bed, she put on wrapper and slippers and opened her door.

“Please, will you lend me your tooth-brush?” he inquired.

Louise, half-awake and wholly mystified, stared at him in amazement. Holly could not help laughing at her astonished face.

“My tooth-brush f” she repeated.

“Yes, there is a mouse upstairs, and I’d like it to kill him with.”

Louise’s look of surprise changed to one of horror and disgust, and Holly’s laugh of enjoyment was echoed from above, where Mont and Rob were hanging over the railing listening to the dialogue.

“Holly, you are really dreadful!” and Louise shut the door in her brother’s face.

The commotion upstairs did not cease while she was dressing. It was evident that others beside Holly had arisen in excellent spirits and she was much amused when Dr. Jennings came out into the hall and called, “Boys, do you need any help?”

It was snowing, a fine, persistent storm that evidently meant to keep on indefinitely, and the late dawn was add and gray with the peculiar reflected light of a snow-storm.

“What is going on upstairs?” inquired Sarah as Louise came into the dining-room.

“I’m sure I don’t know. It sounds as if they were tearing down a partition.”

“I guess it is a good day to have codfish and bread pudding. Evidently I have been feeding those boys too well!”

Louise laughed in spite of the dislike she herself had for Sarah’s proposed bill of fare.

“Something is sure to go wrong before the day is over,” continued Sarah. “I’ve noticed that it isn’t a good sign when the boys start in fooling so early in the morning.”

Only Holly and Rob came in answer to the breakfast bell, both very merry.

“Where is Mont?” inquired Bert.

“Mont met with an accident,” replied Holly in fresh amusement. “We were having a slight skirmish in the bathroom, and Mont fell against the frame of the shower-bath, and the water turned itself on. He’s not so very wet outside, as most of it went down his neck, but he has to dress again.”

“I wish it had been you instead of Mont,” laughed Louise. “You are the one who deserved it.” .

“Now, Pussy, all I asked you for was your toothbrush!”

“Why didn’t you take your own? You certainly didn’t expect to get mine, did you?” -

“I had hopes,” replied her brother with one of his whimsical smiles. “Isn’t this a dandy storm, though!”

“I don’t think so,” said Rob. “Look at the miles of paths we will have to dig! Shovelling snow is a great waste of time. You put in all that work, and when it is shovelled, it isn’t good for anything!”

“Except as a safety-valve for high spirits,” commented Bert mischievously.

Louise agreed with the doctor in thinking it fortunate there were paths to dig that morning. The boys began merrily, but wasted time throwing snow at each other, and it was really storming so hard that constant work was required to keep the paths cleared.

After awhile, Holly came in hot and tired, and tracked so much snow into the side hall that Sarah made him sweep it out He came into the sitting-room somewhat ruffled by this discipline, but Holly’s ill-temper never lasted long, and a big dish of apples on the table went far toward soothing his injured feelings. In his absence, the others worked more steadily, and when they finished, were also in a quieter mood. The morning ended so peacefully that Sarah’s prophecy of evil to come, seemed disproved.

After lunch Millie came, and shortly, Sidney Miller and Stafford Alden dropped in. Both were nice boys, intimate with the Gordon brothers, and as a matter of course they congregated around the cheery open fire.

Rob proposed a game of Pit, and Millie and Louise agreed to play for awhile to make it more exciting. At best, it was a wild performance, and before long, an uproarious one. Three-quarters of an hour passed, and Sidney was ahead on the score. Holly dealt and declared the market open, and the usual hubbub ensued. For some reason, no one secured a corner quickly, and after five minutes of excitement, every one seemed to be trading com with no satisfaction to anyone else.

It occurred to Louise, after frantic efforts to get the last card of hops, that some one was deliberately blocking the game. It was of no use to remonstrate, for no one could possibly hear, so she looked to see which of the boys appeared guilty. Holly was too much in earnest; so was Sidney, but Mont had a queer little curl about his lips and a look of quiet satisfaction that certainly marked him as the offender.

Louise dropped her own cards, and as suddenly seized Mont’s. Yes, he held one of each kind, and of course, as long as he chose, no one could secure a corner. The boys laughed at Louise’s indignant expostulations, but Mont naturally objected to having his cards taken possession of in so cool a manner. He was not exactly angry, and it was rather in a spirit of fun that he rose, calmly picked up his sister bodily and marched out of the room with her, amid horrified exclamations from Millie, shrieks of laughter from the boys, and Louise’s own struggles.

Mont was extremely strong and athletic for his age, but he was unable quite to subdue his now thoroughly angry sister, and Holly was too much of a tease not to come to his assistance. Between them they dragged Louise upstairs, while Rob and Sidney kept Millie from offering any interference, however futile. Louise lost her dignity and after struggling with all her strength, ended by slapping Mont vigorously. He did not retaliate, but the amusement vanished from his face, as Louise was half-carried, half-dragged into her mother’s room, from which a large clothes-press opened, lighted by a window. Into this they pushed her and locked the door securely. Holly was breathless and still laughing, but Mont was more or less in earnest.

“Now, when you are ready to be good, you may come out,” he said provokingly as he pocketed the key.

Louise flung herself against the door, but it was useless and she only bruised herself. The boys went down, and when the first tempest had passed, she threw herself on a pile of blankets and cried bitterly.

Downstairs, matters were far from serene, for though the boys thought it a good joke, Millie did not, and was aroused by indignation to unwonted action. Now that Louise was safely under lock and key, Millie’s captors had released her, and she first scolded, then demanded, and finally implored Mont for the key. He refused to give it up, and Millie dashed off, declaring she would tell Dr. Jennings. Bert was out, so Millie hurried upstairs, while the boys began a new game.

Louise had exhausted herself and was only sobbing hopelessly when Millie arrived to breathe words of comfort through the keyhole.

“Is it cold, Louise? Those horrid, hateful boys!

Put something over your shoulders; isn’t there a dress skirt, or something? I’ll get this door open if I have to try every key in the house!”

Millie’s intentions were of the best; she collected all the available keys, but none would fit the closet lock. Her fingers grew sore trying to turn them.

“I can’t find one, Louise darling, and this last one I can’t take out again. Couldn’t you do anything with the window?”

“No, the double window is on. You can’t do anything; I shall just have to wait, but I shall never forgive Mont, never, nor Holly either!”

Louise had received much love and petting in her short life, and her occasional bursts of temper surprised herself as much as any one else. It was seldom that she was as angry as she was just now. Perhaps on the whole it was fortunate that Millie could not find a key to fit the lock.

“What time is it?” she sobbed finally. “Half-past three. When will Dr. Jennings be in?”

“Probably at four. You’ll have to ask him for the key.”

“I’m so sorry, Louise. Have you a wrap?”

“Yes, I have a blanket.”

“Those horrid boys!” sighed Millie.

“I hate them,” said Louise.

This shocked Millie in spite of the circumstances.

“I know they are awful, Louise, but they are your brothers.”.

“I don’t care if they are,” returned the vindictive prisoner. “I wish I had slapped Holly tool Are they playing?”

“Yes, and yelling like Indians.”

It was a long half hour to the angry little captive and to the sympathetic Millie, who sat on the floor with her back against the closed door and a collection of keys about her. It would be an hour’s work to return those keys to their proper places.

At four she hurried down by way of the back stairs that the boys might not suspect her errand. When Dr. Jennings came in, he was surprised to find Millie sitting in his big office chair.

“Is this a professional call, Millie?” he asked jokingly as he pulled off his fur gloves.

Millie told her tale of woe, and Bert endeavored to look properly shocked, though the twinkle still remained in his eyes.

“I’ll get the key,” he said briefly, and Millie followed to the door of the living-room, whence a great hubbub still issued.

Mont had intended to keep his sister a prisoner for only a few moments and had not realized how much time had actually passed. He turned very red when Bert said pleasantly,

I want the key to that closet, Mont.”

The key was passed over at once, and even the boys who were guiltless, seemed to share in Mont’s confusion.

“Could you come up?” asked Millie. “I have been trying other keys, and the last is stuck in the lock and I can’t get it out.”

Bert did not really have the time, but he went up two stairs at a step, and took the stubborn key out at once. Two seconds, and the prisoner was released, a forlorn, tear-stained individual. Bert looked from one girl to the other.

“I think you’d better go home with Millie,” he said kindly. “You will be happier over there for a little, won’t you? Better take her with you, Millie.”

“Yes, do come, Louise dear,” begged Millie.

Louise yielded passively; she had cried till she felt sick and tired, so Millie brought her wraps and the two slipped quietly out through the office door, finding the sharp, keen air a welcome stimulant The storm had ceased and a clear winter sunset was glowing in the west. Millie related the tale indignantly to her mother, and Mrs. Jenckes laid down her sewing to listen with a sympathetic smile.

“It was too bad, honey, but boys must be expected to tease sometimes. Millie, run down and ask Nora to send us some tea. Tell her to slice some lemon and to cut the bread thin. Louise, go in Millie’s room and bathe your face. I think it must be hard for you, dear, without your mother, and I know the boys were exasperating, but they are good boys as boys go, and I have always thought you a fortunate little sister.”

Mrs. Jenckes brought Louise some cologne as she spoke, and herself smoothed her hair and retied her ribbons, ending with a kiss.

“There, you are quite fresh again, and here comes the tea. I hope there is plenty of hot water, Millie, for I can’t allow my girls to have it at all strong.”

There was not only thin bread and butter, but cheese wafers, and delicious little English crackers, shaped like almonds and filled with soft chocolate. Louise began to feel quite herself except for a subdued headache and a general sense of having been abused. Mrs. Jenckes was delighted to hear of the letter received from the travellers and entertained the girls with some of her own experiences in Italy. The clock struck six before Louise realized how time was flying. Then she rose hurriedly and declined an invitation to dinner, for Bert had invited a guest and she must hasten in order to be dressed.

“If you must go, Louise,” said Mrs. Jenckes, “wait just a minute till I speak to Peter about go-ing with you.”

“It’s not late and it is such a bit of a way.”

“I know it, honey, but I also know Mrs. Gordon’s little daughter isn’t out after dark without an escort.”

Louise knew it too, and said no more, but began to put on her wraps.

“Are you going to forgive those boys?” asked Millie, watching Louise fasten her overshoes.

“I don’t think I shall,” said Louise, “at least, not just yet.”

Peter was the coachman, a good-natured French-Canadian who had worked for the family for years. He found it rather difficult to keep pace with Louise’s quick steps and was somewhat out of breath when she turned at her own gate to thank him for walking with her. She had been thinking about the afternoon and had forgotten Peter till his respectful, “Good night, Miss Louise,” recalled him to her mind.

The house was very quiet after the hubbub in which she had left it Mary came to ask if she could fasten her dress, and Louise was glad of help.

“I’m going to wear my white one, because Dr. Jennings doesn’t often have company, and I want to look very nice. Mary, do my eyes look queer?” “They look as if you might have a bit of pain in your head, Miss Louise. Sure, and I heard what those boys did to you. But I’m thinking they got their come-uppance, for it is the doctor that called them into the office when the patients was gone.” “I’m glad he did,” said Louise, “I hope he did something awful to them!”

The boys in question did not appear till dinner, and then Louise would not look at them. If she had, she would have seen that Holly was unusually sober and Mont appeared tired. Bert’s guest was another doctor, a rather young man, who was pleasant and jolly, and the dinner went off very well, for Louise tried hard to play her part as lady of the house. When it was over, the two gentlemen withdrew to smoke, and Louise, after a glance into the living-room, started upstairs. Mont came after her. He had noticed her heavy eyes at dinner and, boy though he was, realized what an effort she was making. He was very fond of his sister and was already penitent when he and Holly had obeyed Bert’s request to come into the office. He had scarcely needed the doctor’s quiet remark after he had asked for their side of the case. It had been given fairly, for the Gordon boys were all truthful. Bert listened without comment until they finished and then said in his usual pleasant way: —

“A gentleman never knowingly does anything to annoy a lady. Having been ungentlemanly, the only thing you can do now is to apologize.”

Louise heard the steps behind her, but would not look back, and had reached the little landing at the turn of the stair when Mont took several stairs at a step and caught up with her.

“It was horrid mean, Pussy, and I’m really very sorry.”

“I think it was awfully mean, Mont,” said Louise with starting tears. “It was bad enough anyway, but it was dreadful before Sidney and Stafford.”

Mont was silent. This point of view was new to him.

“You think I’m silly,” said Louise, going on, “but it was just dreadful and I can’t stand anything more to-night, and I don’t believe I can ever forgive you.”

Mont was hurt, but he turned back without a word, while Louise ran up to her room. On the bureau was a box of caramels, her favorite candy. It bore a huge and imposing label.

The Private Regrets of Hollis Dexter Gordon.”

Louise could not suppress an hysterical laugh, for it was so exactly like Holly, though as an apology it was probably not half as sincere as the one she had just refused from Mont. Still, it was more successful, and Holly usually managed to get what he wanted. Louise sat down wearily and opened her mother’s letter, only to lay it down with another burst of tears.

“I know my children all love one another and try to do what they should and when people really care they can always get along together.”

Louise threw herself on the bed and cried bitterly, until roused by a knock at her door. Bert had come to ask for something of her father’s that he wished to show his guest, and was startled to find her in tears.

“Louise — Well, what’s the matter? Have the boys been teasing you again? No? What is the trouble then? Why, this will never do; you are making yourself ill, child.”

“I can’t seem to help it,” said Louise, with a great effort at self-control. “Only it was partly my fault this afternoon, and I slapped Mont, and I said I hated them, — my brothers, — and I was dreadfully angry. And I just told Mont I could never forgive him.”

“Poor little girl! Bless me, you are not die worst sinner on earth. You would have been more than human if you had not been angry when they treated you so. Hate them? Well, perhaps you did just then, but you know you love them dearly after all, so that doesn’t count Mont wasn’t playing fair to block the game, and I think he deserved to be slapped, though it wasn’t your business to do it! You wouldn’t forgive him? Why, I think I would, Louise; he’s a good brother on the whole, and it isn’t easy for a boy to say he’s sorry. 1 can tell you from experience that he doesn’t do it but once, so I think I’d call that settled if I were you. Didn’t Holly apologize too?”

Louise pointed to the placarded candy, and Bert laughed heartily.

“That’s Holly all over. Look here, Louise, don’t lament about your misdeeds. Tell the boys it is all right, and go to bed and don’t think about it any more. Just forget it! To-morrow is another day, and we can’t have our household sunbeam in eclipse any longer.”

Louise smiled and went to bring from her mother’s room the case that Bert wanted.

“Thank you, — that is it And I am obliged to you for being so nice to my friend at dinner, for I am afraid it was not easy for you to make the effort.”

“I’m glad if I succeeded. Will you — do you mind asking Mont to come up a moment? I’m afraid he won’t.”

“Of course he will. Good night.”

Louise waited in the unlighted hall, rather doubting if even generous Mont would come after such a repulse as she had given him. But Bert had called him out to say briefly,

“Louise wants you a minute. She feels badly over all this, so don’t let her go to bed unhappy.”

Neither said anything after Mont came up, but were indulging in the “bear hug” that dated from their childhood, when Holly came running down from the third floor.

“Does your ladyship deign to accept my humble offering?”

“She does,” said Louise a little hysterically.

“* Then weep no more, my lady, weep no more to-day,’” sang Holly as he passed. “It was rather a shabby trick. Come along, Mont, if you are going over to Sid’s with me.”

“Iam never going to be angry again,” thought Louise when she had taken Bert’s advice and said her prayers and gone to bed. “Never with Mont. Sometimes I think he is the dearest of all my brothers.”

CHAPTER VIII

THE RIVER PICNIC

“I PROPOSE that we have a river picnic,” said Mont as he came into the sitting-room the next Saturday after lunch.

No one replied immediately, for Rob was looking for a book that he was not likely to find at once, since Holly had concealed it under the sofa cushions upon which he was lying, while Louise was trying with her left hand to sew a button upon the right cuff of her Peter Thompson, and engaged in this difficult undertaking, she paid no attention to her brother’s remark.

“A river picnic?” inquired Holly scornfully after awhile. “River picnics involve canoes, you loon! If you mean an ice carnival, why don’t you say so?”

“Because I don’t. I mean exactly what I say, a river picnic. Let’s take some stuff and skate far up the river, and build a fire and not come home till moonlight.”

“Where’s my book?” interrupted Rob. “Have you taken it, Holly?”

“That would be fun, Monti” exclaimed Louise, awaking to the possibilities of this programme. “Let’s do it. We can have Maude and Millie.”

** And Sid and Roger.”

“Holly, if we ask so many, we’ll be obliged to have some older person as well, and that will spoil it all. Besides, it is no easy matter to find anybody who wants to chaperone such a cold celebration.”

“I don’t blame them,” said Holly calmly. “I’m not responsible for that.”

“If we ask only Sidney, then Maude and Millie can go with us and no grown person will be necessary. I know Mrs. Kimball and Mrs. Jenckes will be willing if it is that way,” said Mont.

Rob having scented his book below the cushions, here interrupted matters by pulling Holly bodily off the lounge. Still the desired volume did not appear since it had been engulfed in the general landslide of couch cover and cushions.

“Really, Rob, you are slightly sudden,” remarked * Holly, arising from the ruin.

Rob caught a glimpse of a red cover under his brother’s coat, and pounced upon it. Fortune in this case did not favor the righteous, since for five minutes Holly succeeded in retaining his ill-gotten spoils. Nor was it a peaceful five minutes, for when Rob finally secured his book, the room looked as if a small cyclone had swept through it.

When Holly regained breath, Louise and Mont were discussing the comparative merits of eggs, chops, and beans, so it was evident that the river picnic had advanced from a possibility to a probability.

“Will you come too, Rob?” inquired Louise, seeing that her younger brother would soon be oblivious of all that passed.

“No, I don’t want to. What’s the use of it? I can’t see any fun in lugging a lot of truck up the river.”

“It won’t be hard. We shall take it on a sled.”

“Let’s ask Sarah before we plan anything more,” suggested Mont, rather doubtful as to whether Sarah would receive their project with enthusiasm. If she should prove a wet-blanket, the difficulties in the way would be insuperable.

“Are you all going?” inquired that faithful handmaiden when she had listened in stony silence to their plan.

“Rob says he isn’t, but when the time comes we shall make him go.”

- Sarah opened the oven door and inspected the contents of a huge pot of beans.

“When do you want to start?” she inquired.

“About three/’ replied Louise with a joyful glance at her brother. Evidently Sarah would rise to the occasion.

“All right. You can take the pot of beans just as it is. Mont, you can pack it in a butter keg with hay all around and it should keep hot. The brown bread can go in the same way. I’ll whisk it on the gas stove and it will be done. Then you can have all the gingerbread you want and pickles and cheese. Will that do?”

“Oh, Sarah, you are a dear!” and Louise threw her arms around the tall, angular figure.

“Sarah, you are a bride, and I won’t forget it!” beamed Mont.

“I hope you won’t. Now, will that be enough, Louise?”

“Yes, because Maude and Millie will probably bring things with them. But, Sarah, we shall want something to drink.”

“Yes, of course you will. I suppose it must be coffee, for you can’t manage anything else. I’ll see to it all. It will be ready at three.”

Maude and Millie both accepted the telephoned invitation with evident pleasure, and Sidney at once offered to bring over a box sled that had been constructed for his little sister, and would serve admi- rably to pack the provisions in. The most difficult part of the programme was to persuade Rob into thinking that he wanted to go, but with much talking and some teasing, this was accomplished. He capitulated on one condition, that a frying-pan and bacon should be added to the equipment Sarah consented to the bacon, but refused to supply them with eggs.

“Not at seventy-five cents a dozen, and probably smashed before you have gone a half-mile! There are some cold potatoes; you may have those to fry if you like.”

Rob compromised on the potatoes, and even became tolerant of the preparations and the packing of the sled.

Maude appeared with a big tin box of sandwiches, carefully wrapped to prevent freezing, and Millie contributed a loaf of cake.

“Is there a knife to cut it? I forgot to bring one.”

“There is a knife and there are forks and also paper napkins and tin plates and cups,” said Sarah. “Yes, Holly, I have put in butter and salt I have put up more picnics than you can shake a stick at. I haven’t lived with this family all its life to be inexperienced in picnics. Now, are you girls going to be warm enough?”

Each girl was equipped with two woollen sweaters, one of medium weight with a very heavy one over it. Muffs, thick gloves, and skating caps of bright colors completed their costumes.

“Now, don’t be late,” said Sarah when she had inspected their wraps. “The moon rises at seven and I shall expect you by ten.”

It was a pretty sight as the party started with their gay caps and shining skates. Sarah watched them down the driveway, and then as a sudden thought struck her, flung open the door.

“Mont! Have you any matches?” she called.

The four boys looked at each other and began to laugh. Mont had a sheepish expression as he came back to supply the deficiency.

“It certainly does require you, Sarah, to get a picnic party off!” he acknowledged, as he took the box she had ready for him.

There were many skaters on the river but the expanse was large enough for all, and as soon as the skates were adjusted, they started up-stream, Holly and Sidney pulling the sled. It was agreed that the boys should take turns being draught-horses, and the task was not in the least difficult.

The river lay silent under the winter sky and sunshine, with the ice in places black and mysterious, suggesting a living current far below. It was necessary to avoid spots where ice had been cut, and the boys took note of dangerous places to be remembered on the way back. On the whole, the skating was excellent, for the river had frozen smoothly, and the snow that had since fallen had been swept away by high winds, so that it was practically no obstacle.

For a long distance beyond the town there were meadows and trees along the banks, and then came the marshes, where the river had spread out and filled the little valley from side to side. In places the dead and dried grass could be seen through the ice, and then the next stroke would reveal the black channel of the river. Here and there were gaunt trees rising straight from the flooded meadow, or groups of bushes looking strangely out of place in the fast-set ice. It was a weird and desolate landscape with no sign of human habitation, and the only suggestion of life, the muskrat houses just above water level on the meadows and islands. There was one cart-path leading up a hill, and at its foot was piled a huge stack of marsh hay.

“This must be a musk-ox house,” called Holly as he skated gayly past.

The others laughed, for even a poorer joke would have been appreciated when the world was all so happy.

Beyond the marshes they reached again the fast-frozen river, lying now between gloomy woods for nearly a mile. Then came a few scattered farms and houses.

“We ought not to go much .farther,” said Mont at last. “It is growing dark, and we have wood to get for the fire.”

The others stopped, with cheeks glowing and eyes sparkling from the exercise in the open air.

“There is a good place just beyond,” said Holly, “where it widens again, you know.”

“So there is. We’ll stop there.”

It was practically a little lake that Holly meant, and it was lighted by the glory of a winter sunset. The young people watched it for a moment; the bright clouds reflected in the mirroring ice, the naked trees clear cut against the sunset glow, and the sharp detail of every bush and clump of water grass. Along the edges of the lake were stalks of Joe-pye-weed bleached a soft brown, and looking almost more beautiful in their ghostliness than in their prime. The evening was very still, with no wind, and in the cold air, even the slightest sound could be heard for a long distance.

Plenty of dead wood was to be found along die banks, so the boys had no difficulty in collecting a good supply, or in improvising seats from a couple of old fence boards. Louise and Millie joined in the search for wood, but Maude, who felt a little tired, sat down on an old stump to rest and enjoy the beauty of the hour. The scene was indeed picturesque, with the neutral gray and brown landscape, and the bright spots of color in caps and sweaters, and the flash of shining steel. Meanwhile the sunset radiance faded and died, and a beautiful great star flamed out in the west.

The fire was built and ice put in a tin kettle to melt for the coffee, while a small fireplace of stones was constructed over which to fry bacon and potatoes. Rob insisted on doing this himself, and Maude roused herself from her day dream and made the coffee. By the time its fragrance filled the air, every one was hungry in good earnest. The brown bread and beans were still steaming, thanks to Sarah’s careful packing, and when the tin plates were distributed, little was heard for a few minutes except the click of knives and forks. It seemed a short time before the bottom of the big bean-pot was being scraped, and every one of Maude’s dainty sandwiches had disappeared. Gingerbread and cake vanished with a little less rapidity, and then Sidney produced a box of marshmallows.

“Just what we needed to finish the picnic!” exclaimed Louise, and Mont added,

“Good for you, Sid! I thought of them and then forgot.”

Rob and Holly skated off to cut some long green saplings. They were soon back with a handful of slender canes, and presently a stick apiece was sharpened, and each was toasting a marshmallow over the fire, now burned down to coals.

This was the psychological moment for weird stories, and several were told, Holly finally capping the climax with a particularly dreadful one.

“Once upon a time,” he began, “there was a white wolf. It was perfectly white from nose to tail, and it never howled nor made a sound. Its very walk was noiseless.”

“Is this a true story, or are you making it up?” “Who knows? Don’t interrupt me, Louise. Once upon a time —”

“You left off at its noiseless feet.”

“Once upon a time,” began the imperturbable Holly, while the fire burned more dimly, and the shadows began to creep visibly upon them, “there was a white wolf. It was perfectly white from nose to tail, and it never howled. Its very walk —”

“You said before that it never made a sound,” remarked Mont “Once upon a time —” began Holly again, amid a shout of laughter, and finally he was allowed with- out further interruption, to relate a very uncanny tale of a wolf possessed of almost supernatural powers. He would follow solitary hunters for days and nights until they were driven mad by sheer terror, and yet the wolf apparently offered them no violence. No bullet could kill this strange animal, and the hunter invariably found he had been shooting at a snow-covered bank, or ice-laden bush. But when the last bullet was spent, there was the wolf, large and silent, following noiselessly upon his trail with gleaming, cruel eyes. In desperation, the unhappy man would rush wildly through the woods, and end by falling over some precipice. Then for one moment, the white wolf would be seen outlined against the sky, nose raised high in triumph, but still in perfect silence, before it descended to its victim.

“Oh-h, what an awful story!” said Maude with a shiver, and Millie moved closer to Louise, who cast an uneasy glance behind her into the darkness. Certainly the fire-lit circle seemed to have grown smaller in size. Holly gave a chuckle of wicked amusement as he noted the effect of his tale, for even Rob seemed ill at ease, and hastened to replenish the fire. With the leaping flames, courage returned, and other stories were told, interrupted at times by the conflagration of Rob’s marshmallow.

Rob lacked the deftness of hand possessed by the rest of his family, and was desperately clumsy. In his efforts thoroughly to brown his candy, he set all ( he attempted to toast on fire at least once, and some of them twice. As his frantic endeavors to extinguish them usually resulted in fanning the blaze, Rob’s stick was watched with interest by the others, who even speculated as to how long it would be before each one caught fire, and who were not guiltless of occasionally helping matters along. Rob did not care. Charcoal was healthy and it made no special difference to him, for Louise would occasionally present him with a beautifully browned specimen. The rest, in watching his mishaps, sometimes forgot their own sticks and were reminded of their negligence by a burst of flame and a shout of laughter.

The moon rose slowly over the hill, lighting ice and wintry landscape with its peculiar and unearthly radiance. The scene was one of marvellous beauty, with clear-cut reflections and sharp black shadows, while the light was so strong that objects even at some distance were distinctly visible.

“Friends and fellow citizens,” said Mont after awhile, “my watch tells me that it is eight-thirty, and a voice within me suggests that we should soon be making tracks down the river.”

“Oh, we must start,” replied Maude; “I promised mother not to be late.”

“Besides,” added Louise, “it will be spooky through the woods. I do wish Holly hadn’t told that story about that dreadful white wolf.”

“Without doubt he will trail us all the way,” replied Holly, with great enjoyment of his sister’s evident uneasiness.

The sled was repacked, the fire extinguished, and the party turned toward home. Millie was the only one of the seven who was not an expert skater, but she skated passably well, and was good for a considerable distance. She took her own deficiencies very cheerfully, and was always ready to applaud any special accomplishment on the part of the others.

The stretch of the river between the woods did seem “spooky” as they entered it, for it was not lighted directly by the moon, and the shadows looked terribly dense and threatening. They were half-way through, when Louise suddenly stopped skating, and pulled back so unexpectedly as almost to trip Sidney. Their sudden slackening of speed disconcerted Maude and Mont, who just avoided skating into them from behind.

“Oh-h!” gasped Louise, “There it isl I knew Holly oughtn’t to tell such a story!”

Mont and Maude swung in a half-circle around Sidney, who was still wildly endeavoring to recover his balance. Holly, Millie and Rob came up as Louise pointed with dramatic finger down the river, where, at a little distance in a moonlit spot made still brighter by the surrounding shadows, stood a large animal, quite motionless and looking intently in their direction.

“What? Let me see! What is it?”

“Holly, that’s your white wolf; you called him up, so see to him now!”

Sidney finally sat down with a thud, and apparently considered a seat upon the ice a good point of observation, for he did not rise, but remained staring down the river. The animal did not move.

“My wolf? Come here, wolf. How do you call wolves anyway? Little brother of the snows, come to my arms.”

“Oh, shut up, Holly! this is no time to be idiotic.”

“It is probably a tiger,” said Millie in desperation.

Up to this point the party had evinced surprise and a disposition to regard the affair as a joke, but at Millie’s remark both Maude and Louise were frightened.

“Tiger, nothing!” exclaimed Mont, as the girls seized him by either arm. “It isn’t even a wolf. It may be a big dog, but I think it is a wildcat, and they are seldom dangerous, and even one that was wouldn’t dare attack a crowd like this.”

“It if a wildcat,” said Sidney. “It’s a big lynx. See the light in his eyes.”

The animal had turned his head slightly, and the moonlight was reflected as from two beautiful green jewels.

“Oh-h!” said Louise again with a long shiver.

“There isn’t a thing to be afraid of,” Mont reassured her. “We will all skate down together, and he will get out of the way.”

“Won’t he follow us?” asked Maude.

“No, I am sure he won’t. Lynxes seldom attack a man, even when he is alone, and there are seven of us. I wish I had a gun! Come, we will all take hands, and skate down in a line. Let me have the sled, Rob, and I’ll swing it out on the side nearest to him. You girls go in the middle. Now, skate fast, and when I say three, everybody yeU!”

Tiger or bear must have turned tail before a rapidly approaching avalanche of shrieks, screams and a siren whistle, the secret of which was one of Rob’s greatest joys. The lynx stared, and fled as if unknown evils were upon him. They swept rapidly past the place where he disappeared in the woods, and did not slacken pace nor break their formation till they were some distance out on the frozen swamp.

In the flood of moonlight, the marsh looked distinctly less forbidding, and they gradually came to a halt as glances behind showed that they were not followed.

“He must be hungry to be so near civilization as this,” said Sidney. “I have seen one only once before when father and I were up in the woods.”

“How did you know what it was, Mont? Have you ever seen one?”

“No, but any one could see it was just a big bobtailed cat, and I knew it from the pictures.”

“It is all Maude’s fault,” remarked the fun-loving Holly, delighted at an opportunity to tease quiet Maude. “She has a lynx muff, and it was doubtless made of some of his relatives. It was natural that he should come to mourn over it.”

“According to that theory, the river banks should be lined with squirrels lamenting over Louise’s muff and Millie’s.”

Maude’s retort brought a laugh from them all and for once Holly had no response to make.

“Let’s crack the whip,” suggested Sidney. ** Here is a dandy place for it.”

Louise objected, and Maude also demurred. ** It is dangerous. Some one is likely to be hurt”

“Just once,” begged the boys, and the girls finally consented. The long line started, at first skating slowly, but soon gaining momentum. Sidney was on the extreme end of the snapper with Millie next It looked as if the whip would be successfully cracked, but just at the moment when the line was stretched to its fullest extent and the tension was greatest, it broke beyond Maude, and Sidney and Millie shot off at a tangent, going at a frightful rate of speed. The rest of the whip slowed up and resolved itself into its original elements, but in the distance they saw Millie fall and slide for some distance as she had fallen. Sidney did not go down, but shot on beyond her. He skated back and reached her before the others.

Millie was not much hurt, only a few bruises of which she made light, but when Sidney tried to help her up, it was evident that something was wrong with her right skate. The others arrived while he was still fumbling with it, and Mont produced the match box. The light revealed the runner at the front completely detached from the plate.

“Isn’t that disgusting! Those were new skates; it is only the second time I have used them, and papa paid five dollars for them.”

“It is a flaw in the steel; they’ll give you another pair when they see it. It is broken right through. Millie, it is lucky you didn’t get hurt!”

Millie did not seem as grateful as she should for her escape. The ruined pair of skates weighed heavily on her mind.

“How am I going to get home?” she demanded suddenly. “Nothing can fix that skate.”

“I brought extra straps,” said Mont, “but I did not supply extra skates. Millie, you will have to sit on the sled, and we will pull you the rest of the way.”

Millie looked ruefully at the sled, which was already rather well filled with baskets and boxes, but there was nothing else to do. The fractured skate could not be made serviceable and walking was out of the question.

“We needn’t take back these kegs,” said Mont, promptly pitching them out. It did not please the orderly Maude to have them left on the ice, and at her request, the boys, with some derision, concealed them in the bushes.

Millie managed to accommodate herself to the cups, plates, and other things that remained, and was not uncomfortable. She was glad to use the old steamer rug that Sarah had tucked so carefully about the bean keg.

“Now, Millie,” said Maude as they started, “if you begin to feel cold, just say so, and you may have my skates till you get warm, and I’ll sit on the sled.”

“I’m as snug as can be, but I’m sorry for you boys.”

Sidney and Holly volunteered to pull the sled, and started wildly, bent apparently on a mad race. The others followed more slowly, and by the time they reached the river channel, the sled and its merry pilots were around a bend. Maude and Louise stopped to look back over the moonlit marsh.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” said Maude softly. “It doesn’t seem frozen and dead, but as if it was waiting for something.”

“So it is. It is asleep and waiting like the sleeping beauty in the fairy tale.”

“And the fairy prince will be spring.”

“What a pretty idea, Maude!” exclaimed Louise. “You could write a theme on that. It would be a charming little story of how it woke at his kiss.”

Mont had been tightening his shoe-lace and apparently not listening to their conversation, but at this he stood erect and remarked,

“And how all the snakes and frogs and turtles also awoke.”

Maude laughed at the matter-of-fact tone, but Louise groaned.

“There is nothing like a brother to take the poetry out of things.”

“Everyday prose for me, that’s sure. Let’s come on. Ydu two seem to be getting moonstruck.”

They started, but Louise turned and waved her hand to the dark horizon. In a moment they were gone around the curve of the winding river, and the marsh lay alone and mysterious under the high-riding moon. Yet not wholly deserted, for on its far side, the big gray lynx came out on the ice, and for a little followed the trail of the merry skaters.

Holly and Sidney set such a pace that Millie soon begged for mercy, and then stopped so suddenly that the rope attached to the sled broke in two places. Millie slid for some distance, but easily stopped herself, while the boys, laughing and waving the bits of rotten rope, overtook her.

There was no longer anything by which to pull the sled, since no one was possessed of string strong enough for such a purpose. It was necessary for some one to take Millie by the shoulders and push from behind. Fortunately they were not far from home, and no further mishaps occurred.

“It must be later than we thought,” said Maude as they reached more familiar stretches of the river. “There are very few people still on the ice.”

“It is only half-past ten,” said Sidney, consulting his watch by the moonlight.

“Half-past ten? O dear! I hope no one is worrying about us.”

“My mother knows better than to worry,” observed Sidney. “I was careful to bring her up that way.”

Maude said no more, but skated rapidly till they reached the place where they usually left the ice. Here some further delay occurred while a rope for the sled was improvised.

From the river to the residence section of the town was a long up-hill pull.

“Maude, I can’t walk so fast,” gasped Millie. “It makes my side feel queer.”

“You mean it gives you ‘ palps’,” commented Holly.

Millie, who was not quick at seeing a joke, and who never knew what to make of Holly’s irrelevant remarks, studied this in silence.

“Neither can I keep up,” said Louise, stopping short. “Maude, don’t hurry so. Your mother won’t worry; she knows we must be all right.”

“What are * palps ’?” demanded Millie with her usual abruptness.

Holly began to laugh. “Aren’t they the things that make coral islands?” he inquired.

“They are not. Those are polyps. Millie, don’t you listen to him.”

Louise’s indignation pleased Holly even more than Millie’s bewilderment.

“He means palpitation; when your heart beats so fast. It is just a silly way of saying it.”

“Now, I think ‘ palps ’ is a nice and expressive word,” said the peace-loving Maude. “But I am getting them myself. I am sorry I made you steam up this hill at such a rate.”

Mrs. Kimball heard their merry voices and came to open the door for Maude. Evidently she had not been troubled by her daughter’s long absence and was glad the evening had been so enjoyable.

Millie’s house was the next in order, and here Mrs. Jenckes made them all come in for hot chocolate and crackers. Mr. Jenckes sympathized with bis daughter over the broken skate, and listened with interest to their tale of the lynx.

“The severe weather must have sent him so near civilization. I’d like to skate up there with a dog and a gun and see if he is still around. Louise, that is only striking eleven.”

Louise had risen hastily from her seat with the first sound from the hall clock.

“Oh, but that is late, and Sarah thinks we are still on the river. We must go.”

Sidney left them at the next comer, and a light shining far down the street showed them they were expected at home.

“Haven’t we had a nice time?” said Louise happily. “Just the right evening, and just the right people, and everything so nice.”

“I think,” observed Mont, “my next theme shall be on the queer words girls use. Now, I think it was a decent evening, and a dandy crowd, and a jolly time. ‘ Nice! ’ I’ve taken notes of the way that word is over-worked, and of a few others besides.”

“Oh, well, brother dear, you know girls are different, anyway,” laughed Louise. “And just think, next Wednesday we’ll be starting for Boston! It seems as if I really could not wait, I am in such a hurry to see Ruth! Look! Sarah has chocolate for us too, for there are the cups on the table, and the chafing-dish simmering. Now, you boys really must drink it, because it was good of her and she’s been nice to us about this picnic.”

Mont laughed., “Yes, quite average * nice ’ on the whole. Oh, we will drink it, never fear. It won’t be wasted.”

« Talk not of wasted chocolate,—chocolate never is wasted; If it enrich not the cook who produced it, — “ murmured Holly thoughtfully.

Louise gave a half-laughing exclamation. “Any one who heard you talk would think you hadn’t an idea in your head!”

“On the contrary, dad says he is sure I must have ideas, because of my command of language, but—”

“Father’s ‘buts’ are terribly expressive,” commented Mont, merrily.

CHAPTER IX

CHRISTMAS IN BOSTON

JENNIE and Ruth were waiting rather impatiently in the bay window of the library, watching attentively the street in the direction from which the expected cousins would come. It was a pleasant residence street in Boston, not far from Copley Square, and so well lighted that even on a December evening when dusk fell early, it would be possible to recognize their guests the moment they should turn in from the thoroughfare beyond. Car after car, crowded, as the girls could easily see, to its utmost capacity, went by the end of die street, but though many stopped, from none came the friends for whom they waited.

“Something must have happened,” said Jennie after a while. “If they left home at one, they should be here before this. I suppose just at Christmas time, there are likely to be delays, especially on trains coming from a distance.”

“In the dark, girlies?” asked their mother’s voice. “Oh, I see, you can watch the cars better. It is useless for the present; father has telephoned from the North Station that the train is very late, nearly two hours behind time, and they cannot possibly be here before eight”

As she spoke, Mrs. Gordon touched a button which sent a flood of light over the scene, the pleasant home-like room with its built-in bookcases and big table covered with magazines. There was a coal fire in the grate; there were some good pictures on the walls; and the room had a general air of being used and loved. Jennie and Ruth had been sitting, one in a big chair facing the window, and the other curled up on the window-seat. At their mother’s announcement they gave exclamations of disappointment and dismay.

“There is no accident; the train is merely late. Father says not to wait dinner any longer. They will be so tired and hungry when they get in, that he has ordered dinner there at the station, and he and Charlie will have theirs with the others when the train arrives. So we will go down at once.”

“It is a shame when we had planned such a jolly dinner for them,” said Jennie, rising from the big chair.

The table, arranged for a much larger party than the three who sat down, did look rather desolate, and the girls were too thoroughly disappointed to enjoy their dinner. Most of the time was spent in wondering when the train would get in, and even after they came back to the library and settled themselves to sew, their thoughts were still with the delayed guests.

“Just imagine, mother,” said Jennie after a while, putting down her embroidery with a little laugh. “I told Marion that our cousins from Maine were coming, and she seemed to think country cousins were an affliction, and asked if Louise could dance and if she would have any dress suitable for Ruth’s party! As if Louise will not be the sweetest and most daintily dressed girl there!”

Mrs. Gordon smiled, but looked a little annoyed. Marion Heywood was not just the intimate friend she liked for Jennie.

“Marion will change her mind in a hurry when she sees Louise’s brothers,” laughed Ruth. “Holly and Mont both dance so well, too. I hope Louise won’t be too tired to go shopping to-morrow.”

“If you are just going to look in windows, I shall stay at home,” said Jennie. “It is countrified to stare in windows, isn’t it, mother?”

“Not always, and never at Christmas. Louise will naturally like to look at the beautiful things displayed. Don’t forget, Jennie, that your guests must enjoy themselves in their own way.”

Jennie’s rather belligerent expression softened. “Anyway, Louise couldn’t do anything unladylike; the way she does a thing makes it seem quite right.”

“Even if it isn’t,” added Ruth. “You are too fussy about small things, Jennie.”

Any further dispute was prevented by the sound of voices in the hall. Mrs. Gordon and . both girls hastened to welcome the arrivals, who were smiling and happy. Louise was a picture in her long brown coat and big brown hat with its wreath of roses, as she held out her arms to the aunt and cousins who came hurrying down the stairs. The next few moments were full of exclamations, greetings and half-ended sentences.

“Louise, darling, you don’t look as tired as I feared,” said Aunt Mary when the wraps were removed.

“Holly is the tired one,” said Uncle Ned. “I am afraid he has a bad headache; he did not eat any dinner.”

Holly was dreadfully weary and decidedly embarrassed to have attention called to him. Aunt Mary saw this and kindly came to the rescue.

“It is late anyway, and we are to be together for two weeks, so, Charlie, take the boys right up- stairs. One in your room, you know, and the others across the hall. Holly shall do just as he likes about coming down again, and if he wants anything to eat, he must let us know. Louise,” as the boys went off, “can I do anything for Holly?”

“I think not, Auntie; when he has a headache he likes to be let alone. We had examinations this morning, and he was car-sick, and very tired. He will like to go to bed, and not have mudi notice taken of him.”

Rather to Mont’s surprise, Holly did go straight to bed. Charlie was disappointed to find Rob assigned for his roommate, but Mont knew better than to trust unsympathetic Rob when there was a headache in prospect. He and Rob came down to join the others in the library for a while, but Aunt Mary sent them all up before long.

“We shall have time for a little talk,” said Ruth happily, as she and Louise, with arms around each other, reached the pleasant third floor room that she and Jennie shared. “See, there has been another little bed put up for you. Mother thought it would be fun for us to be together, and anyway we haven’t as much room in our house as you have.”

“I shall like it ever so much. My trunk hasn’t come, has it?”

“It won’t come till to-morrow; they almost never do, but we can lend you anything.”

“Oh, I have all I need for to-night; that is, I have it in a suit-case. We brought two beside the trunk.”

Louise finally had to go up to the fourth floor and sort out her belongings for herself. She came back looking rather sober, for Holly was feeling very badly, and was anxious no one should know, or make a fuss over him. It was no wonder that he should have a headache after three days of school examinations, and a long tiresome trip in an overheated train, nor that he should be unable to sleep in a strange room on a comparatively noisy street. Louise had been really distressed to find matters so bad that Mont was unsuccessfully trying to relieve the pain by applications of hot water, but Holly growled so at the very idea of letting Aunt Mary know, that she promised to say nothing, and went soberly down again.

Ruth and Jennie had a number of pleasant plans to discuss, and Aunt Mary was forced to remind them finally that another day was coming and they must leave something to talk about then.

The next morning was clear, still and cold, one of Boston’s ideal winter days. The three girls were full of anticipation as they came down for breakfast at eight. Louise was troubled that neither Mont nor Holly was there, but Mont came very soon with an apology for his tardiness, and the report that Holly was still asleep.

“I’m glad you didn’t wake him,” said Unde Ned heartily; “he seemed tired last evening. Not quite as vigorous as you and Rob, is he?”

Louise thought Mont looked tired, and there was reason. He had been a very patient nurse till sometime near midnight, when the medicine Holly had taken, finally quieted him, and he fell into a light sleep. As both were accustomed to separate beds, Mont had feared to rouse him, and had himself spent the rest of the night on a couch somewhat too short and narrow for absolute comfort.

At breakfast the plans for the day were settled. The three girls chose to go shopping in company, and the boys dedded to skate if the trunk came in time for them to have a long morning on the ice.

“There is the trunk key,” said Louise just before they started. “The skates are in the very bottom. Be careful, won’t you, Mont, when you get them, not to muss my dresses that Sarah took such pains pressing!”

“Take care not to have your pocket picked,” returned Mont with so comical an imitation of her tone that they all laughed.

The girls started happily, deciding to walk down Boylston Street and across the Common. The windows were certainly very attractive, and Jennie did not say one word about the impropriety of looking in them. It was hardly possible to consider it countrified when all Boston was doing it! They stopped several times to visit the fascinating Japanese and Oriental stores and Louise was glad to supplement her Christmas list. There were so many curious things which were both pretty and inexpensive that she finally exclaimed in despair,

“Just look at those Japanese towels, and only a quarter for two! They would make the loveliest sofa pillow. Girls, it isn’t any use; you’d better take me straight away!”

Her laughing cousins complied, and presently they were seated in a shoestore which, after all, was not prosaic, for it, too, was decked for Christmas with wreaths and holly, and gay furred overshoes and many-colored slippers.

“Mother told me to buy both boots and shoes,” said Louise, looking at her pretty, slim foot in a patent leather pump. “She told the boys to get them too; I hope they will remember.”

Louise was finally fitted to her complete satisfaction, and her purchases were paid for and ordered sent “I have an errand here,’ said Jennie, taking Louise by the elbow when they were out again on Tremont Street. “Here” proved to be one of Huyler’s stores, and very tempting it looked with counters and cases full of delicious candy. The girls were soon seated at a little round table.

“Now, Louise, don’t think you must have hot chocolate! We all know it is the proper thing on a cold winter morning, but ice-cream is so much nicer! Let’s have fudge sundaes.”

Louise was unacquainted with this confection, but Ruth added her approval to Jennie’s and she was quite willing to take their recommendation. She drew off her gloves and glanced around with enjoyment at the pretty scene. Not far away was another table at which two girls were seated, from one of whom she caught a glance of marked interest.

The sundaes proved as delicious as her cousins had declared. They were a concoction especially suited to the palate of the youthful, being extremely rich ice-cream over which melted fudge had been poured. Two at a time would probably have been fatal to any but the very young. Before they finished a voice said, “Good morning, Jennie. Is this your cousin?”

Louise looked up to see the girl from the other table, who, as she spoke, nodded carelessly to Ruth.

“Oh, Marion, I didn’t see you! Where were you? Yes, this is my cousin, Louise Gordon, Miss Heywood.”

Marion Heywood was a tall, fair girl of eighteen with an artificial air of utter boredom. She had taken critical note of Jennie’s cousin before speaking, and had found nothing amiss. Louise was not only very pretty but was dressed becomingly and in perfect taste. If her brothers were equally presentable she might be worth cultivating. Marion could be very nice when she chose, and on this occasion she took pains to exert herself. She drew a chair beside Louise’s and chatted till her companion had finished her ice and made some purchases.

“Is she your especial friend?” asked Louise when they were leaving the store. “I think she is lovely.”

Louise’s tone was sincere in its admiration, and Jennie was much pleased.

“She’s not always so nice,” remarked Ruth bluntly, rather resenting being treated as a younger sister when she and Louise were nearly of the same age. As a matter of fact, Ruth seemed younger, for being the baby of the family, she had not been encouraged to grow up rapidly, while Louise, as the only daughter and her mother’s companion, was much more mature, both in manner and appearance.

Luckily Jennie did not hear the remark, and a walk of a few minutes brought them into busy Winter Street and crowded Washington. There were a few errands to be done for Mrs. Gordon and Christmas wrappings to be bought at Dennison’s, where Louise was enraptured by the little boxes of Christmas seals. Each girl chose a different design and agreed to exchange.

It was approaching lunch time and the streets were growing very crowded, so they ended their expedition by purchasing Christmas cards on Bromfield Street.

“Don’t you wish you lived in Boston?” asked Jennie, when they had left the car at Copley Square and taken a look into beautiful Trinity Church, always hospitably open.

Louise found this a hard question. She wished to be polite, but her own home was very dear.

“I’d like to live here if I could be in two places.”

“Oh, I wish you could!” replied Ruth enthusiastically. She was devoted to her cousin and often lamented that they saw each other so seldom.

“Haven’t we had the nicest time?” exclaimed Louise happily, as they waved a greeting to Aunt Mary in the library window. “I have enjoyed it so much, and I’m not a bit tired.”

The trunk not arriving in time for a morning on the ice, the boys also had gone shopping, though they had not chanced to meet the girls. Aunt Mary discovered that Mont hesitated to leave before Holly waked, and insisted that he should go with the others. The result was, when Holly finally opened his eyes, instead of patient Mont, or sympathetic Louise, he found Aunt Mary, who was possessed of both virtues, and who, moreover, had not the slightest suspicion that Holly was ever anything but the model invalid she found him. Either of the others would have seen the absurdity of Holly’s unaccustomed meekness; he ate what was given him without persuasion, and Aunt Mary hardly understood the glance that Louise and Mont exchanged when she spoke of his docility. He was indulging in another nap, but intended to be up and dressed for dinner.

After lunch they all went skating, Louise having herself taken out the skates, with due regard to the dainty frocks that Sarah had packed so carefully. Ruth joined the party with some reluctance, for her ankles were not strong and she did not enjoy the sport. The afternoon proved more pleasant than she expected, for Mont, with his usual kindness, took her in charge and devoted a good part of the time to her. He was so strong and so skilful that she skated more easily than usual, and felt that she had made good progress. About four, she sat down to rest on one of the iron benches, while Mont went to look for Louise. He presently came back with her, both doing the difficult “outer edge” in a style that attracted many admiring eyes.

“I shall never be able to do that!” exclaimed Ruth when Louise, with her cheeks all pink from the exercise in the sharp air, dropped to a seat beside her.

“Holly is our champion skater,” said Mont in his quiet way. “When Holly does the ‘outer edge’ Louise and I retire.”

“Oh, bother!” said Ruth suddenly, “here is Marion, and alone, too.”

Marion had a much more cordial greeting for Ruth than the one of the morning, and her manner to Louise was extremely friendly. Presently, Mont as a matter of courtesy, asked her to skate.

“That was what she came for,” said Ruth. “We sha’n’t see them again.”

“Come, skate with me,” said Louise cheerily. “I can hold you up.”

Louise’s arm, however, was far less strong than that of her brother, and Ruth, growing tired, soon sat down again. Her cousin did not like to skate off alone into the crowd of strangers, so practised figures in Ruth’s immediate neighborhood until Rob suddenly appeared.

“Robin, we want to go home. Can’t you find Jennie and tell her Ruth and I are ready?”

“Don’t know; I’ll see,” and Rob shot off, with the end of his skating cap waving gracefully behind him.

“It isn’t any use to wait for the boys,” said Ruth as he disappeared. “Marion will make Mont take her home.”

Louise looked surprised, but as a matter of fact, that was exactly what happened. Marion contrived to detain Mont till the others had gone, and when he saw by the fast-thinning crowd that they were no longer on the ice, he could do nothing less than offer his escort, nor did he find it an unpleasant duty.

Holly was present at dinner, rather white and much disgusted at having been obliged to waste a whole day of his vacation, but in excellent spirits. It was with difficulty that he was dissuaded from joining the skaters the next day. He yielded at last from motives of prudence, but went for a walk and soon found his way into an art exhibition.

That evening he showed Uncle Ned a card and asked whether he knew the person whose name it bore. Uncle Ned glanced at it and inquired with interest how it came into his possession, for the name was that of a famous Boston artist.

“He spoke to me in that gallery I visited; and after we had talked awhile he gave me this card and said he would like to have me come to his studio some morning after Christmas, if I chose.”

“You’d better ‘choose’ then,” said Uncle Ned smiling. “There are many people in Boston who would give a good deal for such an invitation.”

Holly looked pleased, though the name on the card had meant little to him. He had been much interested in the exhibition and made a careful study of several pictures. The interest he displayed, unusual in so young a boy, attracted the attention of the artist, who was idly strolling through the gallery, and when the lad took out paper and pencil and sat down to sketch from one of the finest pictures in the collection, he drew near enough to cast a glance at the work. What he saw induced him to enter into the conversation that ended with a cordial invitation to his studio.

Sunday, after dinner, Uncle Ned called Louise into his special sanctum. “Which is the brother who cares most for music?” he asked. “I have three tickets for the ‘Messiah’ this evening,‘but only three. My children all went last year, so you and Aunt Mary are to go, and one of the boys. Which shall it be?”

Louise hesitated. Both Mont and Holly were musical, and both would care a great deal about hearing the “Messiah.”

“I have it!” said Uncle Ned, seeing her hesitation. “Holly shall go with you and Aunt Mary, and all the other boys may go if they like, on admission tickets only, and take the chance of getting a seat.”

Rob did not care to go, but Mont and Charlie did, and though they stood during the entire oratorio, considered it well worth the trifling fatigue. The glorious music was something never to forget, as well as the thrill when the whole huge audience rose for the grandeur of the Hallelujah chorus. The tears were very near Louise’s eyes more than once and neither she nor Mont felt like talking, when it was over.

The days till Christmas were crowded full of pleasure in every way, and Louise had no time to miss her father and mother as she had expected. Aunt Mary was so kind, and Uncle Ned in so many ways resembled his twin brother, the doctor, that they reminded her constantly of her own dear people. There was only one thing especially lacking in this happy Christmas away from home.

Mother always made so much of the real meaning of Christmas, with the Christmas story and the dear Christmas hymns and poems, and many Christmas errands to homes where she knew there was poverty or illness, or only loneliness. In all the fun and preparation for the day, she never allowed them to forget its true significance, nor that it was the one time of all the year when everyone thinks of someone else. Louise tried to keep this in mind for herself, and after they came home from hearing the glorious message of the “Messiah” she felt that it held the concentrated spirit of the Yuletide.

The day before Christmas the house was full of secrets, and packages kept arriving by mail, express or delivery men, to be whisked off with airs of great secrecy and mystery. It had been voted in family council that each should hang a stocking in the good old-fashioned way, though the library fireplace was altogether too small to permit more than two to be hung in the proper place before it. It was finally accomplished by utilizing the hinges of the inner blinds and the electric fixtures.

Aunt Mary found it a serious matter to get her large family out of the way on Christmas eve, and had to be supposedly blind to a growing heap of padcages in and under her own and Uncle Ned’s stockings. Not until she had personally tucked each of the three girls into bed with an extra kiss because it was the night before Christmas, was she at liberty to begin her work as the deputy of Santa Claus.

Next morning the library looked as if Santa had upset his sleigh, for the stockings were full to overflowing, and a heap of packages was piled under each. In another hour, the floor was a sea of tissue paper and.gay ribbons. Every one had just what he or she most wanted, and many things never anticipated. The room was left in its pretty confusion while they went to church and thoroughly enjoyed the Christmas music and the Christmas decorations, but in the interval between church and dinner, the girls began seriously to straighten things. It was a slow process, for they had to stop so often to admire their own or other people’s gifts. Rob, perfectly happy with a set of Stevenson, was trying, as Holly expressed it, to “read a book with each eye,” while Mont could not leave the new microscope, which was exactly what was needed for his scientific collections. To be sure, he had always been allowed to use his father’s, but this was his own. Louise kept giving loving pats to her gold neck chain with its pink tourmaline pendant. Ruth had a chain and pendant too, but hers was a turquoise. Louise was also rejoicing in a dull gold ring set with lapis lazuli, the gift of her three brothers. Inside, was the inscription, “From Mont, Hotyy, and Rob.” It seemed to Louise, who had never been allowed to have much jewelry, the very best of all her gifts, though they were numerous and dainty, and included several boxes of candy, one of which contained Dr. Jennings’ card.

“I’m glad I sent Bert that pretty Japanese paper cutter,” she thought as she sampled the delicious bonbons in the intervals of rolling ribbon and folding tissue paper. Next she stopped to admire Jennie’s new belt buckle and was just replacing it in its box when Ruth gave such a shriek that everyone started in dismay, even Rob tearing himself from his book. The cause of the confusion was a Japanese paper snake that Louise had presented to Mont as a joking addition to his collection. It had slipped from the table and been drifted over With tissue paper whidi Ruth had begun to fold. It was so startlingly lifelike that it was no wonder she screamed when it slid from the handful she had just grasped.

“I rather ‘like that snake,” said Holly, coiling it round his slim fingers. “Lie down on the sofa, won’t you, Louise? I want to arrange it round your head and see if it looks like Cleopatra!”

Louise declined without ceremony, and Holly proceeded to decorate the microscope. Aunt Mary, coining in a few moments later, saw what appeared to be a live serpent, and her exclamation startled Mont into taking charge of his own property.

There was only a family party for that merry Christmas dinner and the games afterwards, but on the twenty-seventh, Mrs. Gordon gave a small dance for her yonng people and some of her children’s friends. It was really in honor of Ruth’s sixteenth birthday, anticipated a little to bring it during vacation. It was a very delightful evening; even Rob, who did not like to dance and who had learned how only under compulsion, came out of his shell and enjoyed himself. Marion Heywood was present, so gracious and pleasant in manner that Louise again wondered at Ruth’s evident dislike. Mrs. Gordon herself thought Marion at her best, but she refused gently when Holly and Marion came to ask if the orchestra might play a “barn dance.” Marion was, at times, a bit of a hoyden, and Mrs. Gordon knew Holly would go exactly as far as his partner would, so thought it best to give them no excuse for romping. Holly did not care, but Marion was rather sulky for a few moments till she found there was to be a cotillion with some fascinating new figures. Louise was so happy that her face radiated enjoyment, and her aunt watched her lovingly.

“I wish Jennie was as easily pleased,” she thought. “Louise never thinks of herself, and enjoys everything just as it comes.”

Jennie, however, was perfectly satisfied with her evening, for she had a new and becoming dress, and being one of the hostesses, did not lack partners. Ruth also had what she styled a “perfectly corking good time,” and it was a tired but happy trio of girls who finally went to bed in the small hours of the morning.

There were other pleasures in store for them: a Symphony concert, and a matinee with Sothem and Marlowe as Romeo and Juliet; but in Holly’s opinion, the crowning glory of those after-Christmas days was his visit to Mr. Thorpe’s studio. At the time, he said little, but later, gave Louise and Mont a detailed description of the treasures of the studio, and his reception by its kindly, courteous owner. Wonderful sketches and portfolios of engravings had been shown him, and over a social cup of coffee, served from a curious Eastern pot of beaten brass, Holly had been encouraged to speak of his own hopes and ambitions, perhaps more openly than he had ever done before, led on by Mr. Thorpe’s sympathetic interest in a boy’s dreams. Their very boyishness appealed to the successful artist, who recognized that his visitor had real though untrained talent, and he did his best to kindle the fire of ambition a little more, while pointing out the pitfalls in the way. Not till many years later did Holly fully realize what Mr. Thorpe had tried to do for him in that hour.

CHAPTER X

AFTER VACATION

ON the last of the Christmas holidays, Dr. Jennings purposely started for his afternoon calls with the double sleigh and timed his engagements to meet the train due from Boston at a quarter to seven.

The ten days that had been so full of pleasure for the four Gordons, had been very quiet ones in a house from which all the young life was absent, and the busy doctor found some moments to miss the young people with whom he was on so fraternal a footing.

“I didn’t think you’d be here, Bert!” exclaimed Louise as they all squeezed into the big sleigh after the first greetings. “Have you missed us?” “Have I not?” inquired the doctor merrily. “Just a little! Mont, will you take the reins? I have still another call to make. Patrick has been driving for me till I came to the station, and then I sent him home.”

Knowing that Dr. Jennings did not like to drive during cold weather unless all the calls were made, Mont complied, glad to feel the horses respond to his voice and touch.

“It wasn’t very nice coming home,” said Louise in response to Bert’s inquiry. ** We had an early lunch and we supposed we left the house with plenty of time to get to the station, but there was a block on the elevated, and there was not time even to check the trunk. Uncle Ned is to do it on his mileage book, and send us the claim check. We got on the train just as it began to move, and it was crowded. There was only one seat left in a parlor car, and I didn’t want to go in there alone, and Holly wouldn’t take it Mont stood till we reached Salem, and even then we could not sit together any of the time.”

“It was altogether beastly!” put in Rob. “The next time I go to Boston, I shall come home by steamer.”

“I’m never going again!” said Holly firmly.

“Was it as bad as all that, brother?” laughed Bert, joining in the amusement of the others. “Careful, Mont! we have had one upset this week, and Fan is fresh to-day.”

“Did you? How?” demanded the boys.

“We had Fan and the little cutter, and she shied at an electric. The next we knew, both Patrick and I were in a snowbank. No harm was done; Fan stood still and that was all.”

“It is rather fun to be tipped out of a sleigh,” said Louise. “Oh, isn’t it nice to see so much snow; there is none at all in Boston. Oh, Bert, are there any letters?”

“From Italy? Yes, one that came last night and is waiting for you. You received the one I forwarded?”

“Yes indeed! It came Christmas morning, the very best present of all.”

Dr. Jennings smiled. He had made a special trip to the postoffice with that letter, hoping it would thus be among the Christmas gifts.

“I hope Sarah has saved us some dinner,” said Rob. “I am mighty near being starved!”

“She has. I have not had mine either; I thought I would wait for you.”

Sarah gave them a smiling welcome, and seemed genuinely glad to have them back. Louise ran up to her little pink and white room for a moment, and stopped on the threshold, thinking how peaceful and still it seemed, and as if it too was giving her a welcome home. She sat down for a second to enjoy it, but almost at once Millie ran up the stairs, and Louise jumned up to hug her.

“Isn’t Dr. Jennings nice?” Millie exclaimed when they had sat down again in the window-seat. “He stopped this afternoon and asked mamma if I might come to dinner! I was so glad, for it happened that she and papa were going out and I should have been alone.”

“I’m awfully glad, and glad to get you again,” said Louise happily.

“Oh, Louise, what a dear, dear ring! Who gave it to you?”

“The boys. Isn’t it the prettiest thing? I’ve wanted one of those heavy rings ever since they began to wear them.”

“I had one too, but it is just a plain signet; see!”

“It is ever so pretty,” said Louise, trying it on. “Aunt Mary and Uncle Ned gave me the dearest little gold chain and pendant. I’ll show it to you after dinner; Mont has it in his pocket, for of course I couldn’t wear it on the train. I had such lovely things, and oh, Millie, I just love that little pink kimono you made me! It’s exactly what I wanted.”

“Did your mother leave you anything?”

“No, she said she would bring us our Christmas gifts from Italy. Now, what did you have?”

Millie recited a long list, and Louise listened with great interest.

“Half a dozen silver spoons! How funny!”

“I guess Aunt Nellie thinks I am going to keep house,” laughed Millie, and both girls went into a fit of giggles.

“I thought we never would get that trunk packed,” said Louise at last. “There is a big package coming by express of the things we couldn’t get in. Sarah says there were ever so many things left here at the house, and we will look at them after dinner. There’s the bell!”

The heap of packages Sarah produced after dinner fairly astonished the family. It seemed like having Christmas every day.

When the heap was sorted, most of them proved to be for Louise; little remembrances from school friends,—calendars, handkerchiefs and dainty bits of fancy work. She finally opened one flat package at the contents of which she gave a little scream of delight and astonishment. To a broad soft belt of plaid silk was attached a plain but exceedingly handsome gold belt buckle.

“That must be from Aunt Harriet,” gasped Louise. “Why, I never dreamed but what she meant that coral for my Christmas gift! Isn’t it lovely?”

“The Gordon tartan, too,” said Mont with some amusement. “I knew Aunt Harriet was mighty proud of being a Gordon, but she must have had some trouble to find that tartan here.”

“Why, I had a dress of it, Mont, and you boys all had kilts.”

“Yes, but mother ordered it specially and it must be hard to get a ribbon in that plaid.”

Louise tried the belt with great pleasure. “I shall wear it when I go to thank her, but didn’t she give you boys anything?”

Mont and Holly both began to laugh, but Rob did not look up from his book.

“Yes,” replied Mont, “she gave me this, and I like it very much. It is an English coin, a spade guinea, and I believe they are both rare and valuable. I like it better than anything Aunt Harriet ever gave me before.”

“What is yours, Holly?” inquired Louise with some curiosity, for Holly was growing speechless from excessive mirth. He stopped laughing long enough to reply,

“A year’s subscription to the ‘ National Geographic Magazine.’ I don’t object at all; it will be very interesting.”

“And Rob? Oh, yours are books! That’s nice; you’ll like them.”

“Oh, will I?” said Rob in a tone that sent Holly into hysterics.

“Why not?” Louise jumped up to look at the volumes, and read the title in blank bewilderment “‘ Complete, works of Robertson.’ Who is he?”

“They are sermons!” said Rob, bringing out die last word with an indescribable emphasis.

It was impossible not to laugh, and a perfect shout arose. Rob did not even smile; he went to the well-filled bookcase at one side of the room, took out a half-shelf of volumes, piled the offensive “Complete Works” at the bade, replaced the other books so as completely to conceal them, sat down by the table, and picking up “Ivanhoe,” became again insensible to all that went on. Apparently he neither saw nor heard anything that took place.

The merriment finally subsided, though Holly sat on the floor in a condition of limp exhaustion and from time to time burst into a laugh. Then Millie and Louise would begin again, and it is to be feared that Aunt Harriet would have been petrified with horror, had she known how her gift to Rob affected his family.

It was only natural that after two weeks of pleasure there should be a reaction. Louise felt very tired the next morning, and the boys seemed inclined to tease one another. After dinner she was rather shocked to hear the click of skates in the hall.

“You aren’t going skating?” she inquired, appearing on the scene.

“Why not? Roger says it is fine, and it looks as if there would be snow to-morrow.”

“But it is Sunday 1”

“What of it? One day is as good as another. We’ve been to church and that is enough. What do you want us to do; sit over the fire and read Rob’s sermons?”

“You let those sermons alone,” growled Rob, hunting for his skating cap.

“It isn’t right for you to go. Mother wouldn’t like it and I am going to ask Bert if you shall.”

It was an imprudent remark. Louise found her way barred, and by Mont at that.

“Look here, let’s take her, too!” exclaimed Holly as Louise made an ineffectual snatch at his skate straps. “Let’s make her go, Mont.”

“No, I won’t do that. It is all right if you don’t choose to go yourself, Louise, but our going is our own affair.”

“It isn’t right!” said Louise angrily; “you know mother would not like it!”

“Well, we are going, and that ends it!”

Mont’s tone was emphatic and Louise made no further attempt to prevent them.

“I shall speak to Bert when I have a chance,” she said with dignity, and she fulfilled her intention. When Dr. Jennings came in about four, she related the affair with some indignation, fully expecting he would sympathize with the attitude she had assumed and uphold her in it. Instead, Bert poked the fire, smiled a little, and made no comment.

‘* Don’t you think they did wrong to go?” she finally demanded.

“Not exactly wrong.”

“But it is Sunday, Bert.”

Dr. Jennings smiled again and said pleasantly, ** Considering that the boys have every other afternoon at their disposal, I think it would have been better not to skate to-day, but I can’t say I think it absolutely wrong. If it seems right to them, it is for them to decide.”

Louise did not like this at all; she was really annoyed with Bert, but there was nothing more to be said. Dr. Jennings had taken a magazine and settled down to read, so Louise returned to her own book, her impatience with the boys rather increased by Bert’s indifference.

Bert did not have long to rest; in a half-hour he was summoned by telephone to an emergency case, and went at once, telling Louise not to wait tea for him.

“I’ll be back if I can,” he added, and went out, looking a little amused, for Louise was evidently out of humor, and he knew the boys would come in hilarious. It was quite plain that his presence at the table that evening might answer the purpose of a peace-angel.

It grew dark very early, and before long Louise began to feel the loneliness of the quiet house. She threw aside her book, coaxed the open fire till it blazed cheerily, and curled up on the hearth rug to watch the leaping flames. Mary lighted the halls and came to ask when the boys would be in for tea.

“They are coming now,” said Louise, as a slamming of doors, stamping of snowy feet and a rush of cold air announced their arrival.

“We’re nearly starved!” said Rob. “Give us some grub to feed our faces!”

This remark was to Louise as a red rag to a turkey. She disliked slangy expressions, and her own speech was always refined. This was not without its effect on the boys, but they also knew that she could be moved to great exasperation by a judicious use of slang. She made no reply but walked into the dining-room with a dignity that convulsed her brothers, who remained in the hall for some seconds whispering and laughing.

When they did come in, their actions would have shocked the most Bohemian of audiences. Holly

———text unreadable———

“Quit it, Holly. Where are you going, Louise?”

“Upstairs,” replied his sister tearfully.

“Come back. We will stop it; honestly we will.”

Louise hesitated in the doorway, looking back doubtfully, but Mont came around the table, picked up her chair and held it for her to seat herself again. Then he served her with a croquette and peas on his own plate, which was still empty, and exchanged it for hers, with its conglomerate mixture, which apparently did not in the least affect his appetite. Louise still looked uncertain, but peace had outwardly returned, for Holly and Rob were hungry and conducted themselves with propriety until both wanted another croquette. As if by agreement they rose and seized the platter by either end. Louise, in fresh disgust, happened to glance at the doorway, and there stood Dr. Jennings, quite calmly and with an air of having been there for some moments. Apparently, he was neither disturbed nor shocked, but when he met Louise’s look of horror, he stepped forward and sat down, saying serenely,

“That’s enough of a bear garden to-night, boys.” The silence that settled over the dining-room became absurd, and Bert, though the comers of his mouth were curling, seemed determined not to be the next speaker. Two full minutes passed, before Holly burst out in a contagious and irresistible giggle. That was enough and they all laughed, even Louise becoming her usual sunny self again.

CHAPTER XI

CHIEFLY ABOUT GREEK

“HOW I wish I lived in a big and joky family!” sighed Millie one evening. “Louise and her brothers have terribly good times together!”

Mrs. Jenckes had come in for a good-night chat and while her daughter braided her hair, was gazing seriously into a much disordered bureau drawer.

“Now mamma! you just needn’t look in there! I’m going to straighten it on Saturday; I truly am!” exclaimed Millie, discovering the expression upon the maternal countenance.

“Oh Milliet I truly hope you are! How did I ever happen to have so disorderly a daughter? But what were you saying about jokes?”

To Millie’s surprise, her mother, on hearing her wish, burst into a merry laugh.

“And that from a little girl who doesn’t understand half the jokes she does hear!”

“I know it, mamma! Only to-day Holly told me I needed a joke-cracker, and when I asked what that was, they all laughed so! I know I don’t understand jokes, but families who make them have such jolly times. Rob was annoyed about something this afternoon, and suddenly the others told him to smile! He didn’t want to, but he couldn’t help it, and you know, mamma, after you’ve once smiled, you can’t keep on being cross. That’s one of their family jokes. Dr. Gordon used to do it when they were little and any one was cross, and now they are older, they say it to each other. Louise told me that once they were all four of them annoyed about something, and the same idea occurred to them and they all yelled, ‘ Smile! ’ and then it was so funny that they couldn’t stop laughing. Joky families do have nice times!”

Millie slipped her pretty green wrapper over her ruffled nightdress as she spoke.

“It’s only half-past nine, mamma, and you ‘ could to ’ let me sit on your lap just three minutes!”

“But only three, for you should be in bed,” said Mrs. Jenckes lovingly.

“Yes,” continued Millie, curling herself into smaller compass for her mother’s encircling arms. “I do wish I was more sensible about jokes, and I wish, too, I was just the least little bit musical. Louise and Maude and Mont and Holly really have lovely times playing together. They were practising this afternoon, and it wasn’t very interesting for me, and I did so wish I could do something besides turn over music when Louise told me.”

“Indeed I wish you could, Millie. I hate to have you miss so much!” said Mrs. Jenckes regretfully.

“We can’t seem to help it, can we, mamma? And oh, I have forgotten to tell you that there is a new teacher of Greek this term. His name is Mr. Benson, and he is young and looks so interesting. Louise and I almost wish we were studying Greek instead of preparing for college on Latin and modern languages. All the Gordon boys have him, in three different classes, and Mont likes him ever so much.”

“What has become of Mr. Curtis?”

“He has accepted a position in Boston. Really, mamma, even Maude, who is so appallingly sensible and dear, says she’s glad she is taking Greek!”

“Too late for you to change!” commented Mrs. Jenckes in some amusement. “Maude is indeed a dear girl and I am glad you have two friends like her and Louise. Now the three minutes are more than over, and you really must go to bed, little daughter.”

The coming of a new Greek teacher had been an interesting event to the whole High School. Mr. Benson was a complete stranger in the town, and though a very clever man intellectually, was too recently from college to have had much experience in teaching. Greek being his specialty, he found himself assigned to teach five daily divisions in different stages of proficiency. His abundant common sense, a keen appreciation of the ridiculous, and a certain sympathy with young people went far toward redeeming his lack of practical experience. Mont liked him at once, and at the end of the week, expressed a wish to know him outside of school. Holly grinned at the remark, and Mont regarded him suspiciously, for various rumors had led him to suspect that the sophomore class was being more than usually diverted by the doings of his mischievous brother.

It was not Dr. Callendar’s custom to interfere with a new assistant, but allow him to follow his own methods, so the first week of the winter term had passed before he came into the empty Greek class-room, where Mr. Benson was correcting exercises, and inquired how things were going.

“Very well on the whole,” replied Mr. Benson. “Of course it is always hard on a school to change instructors in mid-year, but they have taken it remarkably well. They impress me as being an unusually nice set of young people.”

Dr. Callendar was pleased, for he was immensely proud of the High School.

“Many of these boys and girls come from fine old families and have good stuff in them. No especial trouble then?”

Mr. Benson hesitated before replying and the principal added with a smile:

“If it is the freshman class, it’s Jack Aldrich; if it is the sophomores, the mischief-maker is Holly Gordon.”

“Holly Gordon? He is a tall boy with red hair inclined to curl?”

“And the possessor of a very aristocratic nose and a charming smile that he bestows in a most democratic manner upon all alike. What’s Holly been doing?”

“Nothing, as far as I know.”

“Then in what especial way has Holly chosen to do nothing?”

Dr. Callendar’s ironical tone puzzled Mr. Benson. “Really, I can’t see that he does anything he should not, but there is an undercurrent of amusement whenever he is called upon to recite. His manner is perfectly proper, but for my part, I can’t see how a box could get through the elementary Greek, who knows as little as he does about it”

Mr. Benson stopped in amazement at Dr. Callen-dar’s hearty laugh.

“I beg your pardon, but Hollis is such a scampi My dear fellow, that boy is one of the cleverest lads in school, and he knows more Greek than any one else in that class. His pretended ignorance is only a huge bluff!”

Mr. Benson was annoyed, as he had good reason to be, but after a moment he laughed.

“It seemed odd that a boy who looked so intelligent, and who tried as hard to understand as he apparently did, should fail so completely. I believe I have spent a quarter of each period trying to explain things to himl One thing is certain, on Monday I shall definitely enlighten his ignorance.”

Dr. Callendar laughed again. “I can imagine just how he has been enjoying your efforts to explain things! Holly certainly is a sinner, but be careful how you handle him.”

“Why? Is he likely to be upheld at home?”

“Not for one moment. Dr. and Mrs. Gordon are abroad just now, but their children have been brought up rather more on the order of the previous generation than are most young people of to-day. I shudder to think what Hollis would be without the somewhat strict discipline in which he has been trained. Yet he is as nearly spoilt as any child of those especial parents could be. I only meant that Holly is quick-tempered. The easiest way to manage him is to do something he isn’t expecting from you.”

It was surely the unexpected that overtook Holly on the following Monday. He had spent unusual time over his Greek preparation, perpetrated a carefully chosen series of blunders, and shown commendable zeal in attempting to understand their corrections. Mr. Benson devoted five minutes to the sentences that Holly had written on the board, conscious all the time of that subdued undercurrent of amusement, and then he suddenly turned to the mischief-maker.

“It is quite evident, Gordon, that you are not fitted to do the work of this division, nor is it fair to the others that I should spend so much time over one pupil. You may consider yourself dropped from this class, and to-morrow you may recite with the freshman Greek.”

After a second of surprised silence, there was an outburst of laughter from the whole class. Mr. Benson made no effort to check the merriment, but stood looking gravely at Holly, who stared at him in amazement, blushed, and finally appreciating the utter absurdity of the situation, himself joined sheepishly in the amusement of the others. He made no comment and offered no excuse, but left the room with the rest.

Before the dose of school, Holly’s amusement at the clever turning of the tables vanished before the fact that he was ordered into the beginners’ class in Greek, with Rob. It was useless to ask Dr. Cal-lendar to intervene, and his mortification increased, for every one, even Sidney, was laughing at him; affectionate laughter to be sure, but none the less galling.

“Holly, did you ever get left?” inquired Mont merrily as he overtook his younger brother near die comer.

Holly laughed in spite of his vexation.

“You did it one day too long, and Fm surprised, for you usually know when to stop.”

“A week was enough, that’s a fact. I ought to have amazed him to-day by my accurate knowledge of irregular verbs, but he was such sport!”

Mont flung a fraternal arm across Holly’s shoulders, slipped on an icy spot as they turned the corner, and both boys slid into the gutter.

“You’ve no need to pitch a fellow into the street!” exclaimed Holly, with his hat knocked over his eyes, while his amused brother realized that the catastrophe had nearly involved a third person who was coming from the opposite direction.

Holly picked himself out of the high-piled snow to receive a smiling glance as Mr. Benson hurried on with a pleasant word to Mont.

“He is sort of decent in spots,” grumbled Holly when his footing was once more firm.

“He’s one too many for you,” chuckled Mont, much entertained by the narrow escape, “but really, Holly, he is the right stuff, and if you quit your monkey-shines, he won’t make you stay long in that class; just you see. He’s worth ten of Curtis.”

“It’s the having to go into it at all,—but I’ll get even with him yet!”

“I’d advise you not to try. He’s quite equal to anything you can devise,” replied Mont.

On Wednesday, Dr. Callendar, passing the door of the Greek recitation-room after school was dismissed, saw Hollis in apparently friendly conversation with Mr. Benson. Wondering how this state of affairs had been so quickly brought about, he took the first opportunity of inquiring.

“The freshman class in Greek has not been without its excitement to-day,” began Mr. Benson with unconcealed amusement “Yesterday, Hollis was very evidently out of temper, but his recitations were absolutely perfect To-day I gave the whole class board work, and Hollis made a mistake. It was very slight indeed, but of course he had not intended to make any, and was much mortified and obviously irritated when it was pointed out His brother—I believe his name is Robert—was at the blackboard diagonally across the corner. I didn’t see exactly what happened,—I think Robert must have laughed at his brother’s discomfiture, — at any rate, the first I knew, Hollis threw an eraser at him! It missed its mark but broke a flower-pot on the window-sill.”

“Well! I should say there had been some excitement!” exclaimed Dr. Callendar. “What happened next?”

“It scarcely seemed the psychological moment for a reproof, since Hollis was so angry that he was really pale, so I merely told him to remain after class, and went on with the lesson. By the time the period was over, he was evidently ashamed of himself, but still in no mood to listen to a lecture. So, on your recommendation of the unexpected, I told him that tomorrow he could return to the sophomore class in Greek! He looked at me as if he thought me wholly out of my mind, but the atmosphere cleared considerably. We have just been having a little conversation about the inadvisability of throwing things when one is angry. Really, I can’t help liking that boy!”

“Nobody can. He is as lovable as he is exasperating.”

“He told me very naively that he didn’t make a practice of throwing things since a disastrous experience he had about two years ago. He was ill in bed, and his mother was trying to induce him to eat a soft-boiled egg that he did not want. He finally fired the egg into space, but unluckily, it happened to hit his father, who was just entering the room! The situation appeared to me slightly ludicrous.”

“You’d think it funnier still, if you knew his father!” laughed Dr. Callendar. “At present, Dr. Gordon is of the salt of the earth, the finest possible type of professional man, but I imagine at sixteen, he was very like his impetuous son. Did Holly say what happened next? “

“Yes, he felt so badly that he made himself more ill than he had been in the beginning, but the doctor only repaired damages and said he didn’t care. When he was once more convalescent, his mother had a very serious conversation with him on the subject But on the question of Greek, we have parted as friends.”

“And a good thing, too. You will have no further trouble from Holly,” said Dr. Callendar cordially.

CHAPTER XII

THE BEGINNING OF TROUBLE

THE second week in January there came a thaw followed by weather that grew steadily colder, but remained clear and dry. The boys enjoyed it, but Louise shivered and complained, and after freezing her nose one bitter morning, considered herself justified in staying at home when the thermometer indicated twenty degrees below zero.

The next day was even colder, and remained gray and overcast, while even at noon the mercury was still far below zero. The streets were deserted except by those who were compelled to be abroad, and they hurried along as if anxious to conclude their business and get under shelter. Skating seemed to have lost its attraction, and the boys did not care to go out after lunch.

“Holly,” asked Louise as her brothers all wandered into the living-room, “has Mrs. Davis said anything to you about an operetta they are plan- ning for the benefit of the Associated Charities?”

“Oh, yes,” replied Holly, tossing over the magazines on the big table, “she told me about it; she wants me to be in it. Hasn’t she asked you, too?”

“Only for some of the dances.”

“What’s all this?” inquired Mont. “Tell us about it.”

“Why, Mrs. Davis and some of the other club people want to get up an operetta for the benefit of the Guild and the Boys’ Qub. There is to be a fairy play and folk dances, and they mean to have it all done by young people and children. She told Mrs. Jenckes about it, and asked both Millie and me to take part in one of the dances. I understood she wanted Holly to be the fairy prince. Do you want to do it?”

“I shouldn’t mind. It would be rather good fun.”

“Who are to be the other actors?”

“I don’t exactly know,” replied Holly; “there are four or five. I believe Helen Howard is chosen for the fairy princess.”

At this, Louise preserved a significant silence, and Mont laughed a little. Helen was a member of the sophomore class in the High School, a very pretty brunette who was extremely fond of the boys.

Louise did not like her and much resented Holly’s attentions to her. Whether they were serious or not, no one knew, least of all Holly or Helen, but the fact remained that Helen had few friends among the girls, and many cavaliers among the boys.

“It will be some fun, but also much work,” said Mont at last.

“Not so much. I shall like it, if Bert is willing I should do it. It isn’t a difficult part to learn, and I shall get ever so much fun out of it.”

When Bert heard of the project he disapproved most heartily, yet after Mrs. Davis came in person to urge her plea, he disliked to refuse. Holly was so bright and learned with so little effort that the actual memorizing of the part was nothing for him, while in person he was well adapted for the fairy prince and would impersonate the character successfully. Dr. and Mrs. Gordon were much interested in the Associated Charities and there would be only three performances, so Bert consented reluctantly to Holly’s appearance as the chief actor.

The cold morning was followed by a colder afternoon, and as night approached, the mercury slowly sank till it bade fair to make the record for the winter’s chill. Finally it was all down in the ball, and at eleven the spirit thermometer at the office door registered fifty degrees below zero. It did not feel as cold as that, but Bert shivered as he put it back, and before going to his own room, ran lightly upstairs to the third story to see if the boys were prepared for such extreme weather. Only Rob’s nose and tumbled hair were visible above his blankets; he was tucked in like a caterpillar in a cocoon. Mont’s room was empty and very cold, but Bert smiled as he looked into Holly’s, for the three-quarter bed had two occupants, and Mont’s down puff supplemented the one already there. There did not seem to be immediate prospect of their freezing, though the window was wide open.

Both boys were asleep, and Bert’s face grew sober as he looked at them, for the dark and sunny heads were close together. >

“I hope they will be as good friends all their lives,” he thought as he turned away. There had once been a time when Bert and his next older brother had been as much to each other as these two were at present, and the little expression of sadness was still on the doctor’s face as he softly closed the door.

Next morning was bright and clear but still very cold. The boys came down to the warm diningroom with a rush and shiver. With the breakfast-bell came the fire-alarm.

“No school! Hurrah 1” shouted Holly when they had counted its message. “No school, Bert, and it is a dandy day for skating.”

“Yes,” said Louise, “it is too cold to have school, and so the boys will all go out to skate. Isn’t it ridiculous?”

“The milk was frozen solid,” observed Sarah, appearing in the dining-room. “You could chop it with a hatchet The cold has got into the kitchen range and the bread didn’t rise. But I am going to make buckwheat cakes before you can say Jack Robinson.”

Holly shouted the magic words at once, but Sarah only looked at him scornfully.

“And, Dr. Jennings, as I can’t thaw the milk to make chocolate, likewise the bottles being burst, I have made coffee, not too strong.”

The boys cheered at this, and Sarah’s grim countenance relaxed in a smile, coffee being a beverage permitted to the doctor’s children only after dinner on Christmas or on some other state occasion. Mary came in directly with the big silver coffee-pot and the first relay of cakes. The boys began at once to see which could eat the most cakes, and Rob soon choked. A fraternal slap on the back sent his glasses flying into a dish of apple-sauce, and at this accident Holly began to laugh. His laugh was always so merry and contagious that the others could not help joining, except Rob, who exclaimed, “Now quit that! Where did they go? Find them, somebody.”

“I’ll wash them,” said Louise, fishing them from the apple-sauce with a fork, while Holly also choked and Mont began to slap his back. “Do stop, boys!”

“Hurry with those glasses,” commanded Rob. “You know I can’t see a single thing without them.”

“If you would wear spectacles they would stay on better.”

“I hate spectacles.”

“And eyeglasses make your nose look like a raw beefsteak. That’s pride, my child.”

“I prefer it to having my ears look like a donkey’s. Thanks, Louise.”

After that one fierce day, the weather moderated greatly, though still remaining colder than the ordinary winter. Much interest was shown in the preparations for the operetta, and Louise and Millie had many discussions over the costumes they were to wear. The dance in which they were to take part was a minuet, requiring old-fashioned dress. In the attic of the Gordon house was a trunk full of old garments, and Louise and Millie spread them all out, becoming at last so excited that Millie ran to bring her mother as final judge.

The dress Louise chose was an old-fashioned yellow silk, covered with tiny pink roses, with a short waist and a scant skirt coming just to her ankles, low neck and quaint short sleeves. Mrs. Jenckes piled her hair high, put in a big tortoise-shell comb, and a daintier little colonial maiden never danced in an old-time ballroom. When this vision suddenly appeared to Bert as he was working in the laboratory, he was startled into dropping his test-tube.

“Very charming, Louise, but surely you don’t intend to wear a low dress in this severe weather, even if it does make you look like the Empress Josephine?”

“I’ll have a wrap, and it is only for a few minutes, you know. Isn’t it pretty and queer? Millie is to have an Empire dress, too,—hers is blue. Of course my hair will be powdered.”

The vision vanished in a flutter and rustle of old-fashioned silk, and Dr. Jennings returned to his analysis.

Holly’s costume required less planning, since a regular court suit was necessary for the fairy hero, and must be provided by a professional costumer. His ambition for real velvet and lace had to be satisfied with cotton fabrics and tarnished silver, but the wig and sword were genuine, and no one would see the imperfections in the glare of the footlights. Holly was certainly very happy as he went about the house, declaiming speeches till the others, too, knew his part in the play.

The managers were greatly pleased with the rehearsals, for the young people entered into the spirit of the affair with interest and worked hard. The play was to be given on Monday evening, Wednesday afternoon and Friday evening. There were so many small children in the cast as fairies, that they could not be up two nights in succession.

The eventful first presentation came at last, and Mont and Rob went, as Mont expressed it, “to see their family perform.” At the last moment Bert accompanied them. Having given his consent to the twins’ participating, he had said nothing more. It would do Louise no physical harm, and perhaps Holly’s enjoyment and pleasure would carry him through without a breakdown, but Bert felt far from certain that the whole thing would not at the last moment have to be postponed on account of the collapse of the chief actor.

The first performance was a complete success, for the opera-house was packed, and the young people far surpassed the promise of their rehearsals. Helen made the daintiest of princesses, and Prince Charming was not to be criticized for laying his heart at her feet.

Holly himself was greatly applauded, and deservedly so, for enjoying the excitement and enthusiasm of the audience, he really acted wonderfully well. The child fairies in their dainty crepe paper costumes of rainbow colors, looked as if they had actually strayed from fairy land, while the graceful folk dances of the older girls and boys were received with prolonged applause.

Of course the audience was a most indulgent one, but so much youth, beauty, and enthusiasm must needs make its own appeal, while the fresh and unstudied artlessness of the young performers and the real grace of their acting, made it a most successful entertainment. The curtain fell before a well-satisfied house.

“Holly did well,” observed Mont, as the boys met in the street. “Are you very tired, old chap?”

“Not a particle,” replied Holly, who was extremely excited.

“Look here,” inquired Rob, “is it in the play for you to kiss Helen’s hand twice?”

“Why, of course, you loon!”

“It isn’t part of the play for you to kiss her behind the scenes though,” remarked Sidney, who was one of the courtiers and knew whereof he spoke.

“Oh! oh! Holly Gordon!” exclaimed the culprit’s brothers, while the laughing Sidney roshed off to avoid his friend’s vengeance.

“Don’t you tell Louise that!” growled Holly after an ineffectual effort to overtake the telltale. “Won’t I punch Sid’s head! Stop laughing; they dared me to!”

“Well, I’m sorry you were such an ass!” remarked Mont, but he continued to laugh in spite of the snub he had just administered.

“Don’t tell Louise,” warned Holly, but Mont would not promise.

Louise was with Millie and Mrs. Jenckes and did not reach home as quickly as the boys. She came in full of congratulations, and very proud of Holly’s success.

Sidney did not tell Louise of Holly’s escapade, but there had been a number of witnesses, and the matter soon came to her indignant ears. She was angry with both her brother and Helen.

“How could you, Holly? It was horrid of you.”

“Helen didn’t think so,” replied Holly, grinning.

Louise could not explain just why she felt so disturbed about the affair. To her it seemed that Holly had done an ungentlemanly thing which Helen should have resented.

“How would you like it if I let a boy kiss me?” she demanded suddenly.

Holly’s teasing smile vanished. “That’s different; you’d better not. I won’t have my sister doing a thing like that.”

“But you did it to Helen.”

“Helen is different.”

Louise frowned at this distinction, which she really did not understand, though all her brothers did. Holly would never have taken such a liberty with Maude or Millie, both of whom he really knew much better than Helen.

“Mother would think you had been very rude,” she finally said as a clinching argument.

Holly made a teasing answer, but he knew very well that Mrs. Gordon would have disapproved, and that she would have said several gentle things to him about his conduct, but this he would not admit to his sister.

CHAPTER XIII

VERY SERIOUS FOR HOLLY

MONTROSE GORDON and Arthur Stanton were working together on the Thursday afternoon of the same week. To judge _from the dictionaries and grammars spread around, Homer and Greek prose were the subjects of their study, but as a matter of fact, the paper over which both heads were so intently bent, was a diagram of a football field.

Football seemed a sport of either past or future, when the country was snow-covered and ice-bound, but both boys were enthusiastic players, and often worked out diagrams from newspaper reports. Mont was the captain of the school team, and at the last game of the season, played with a rival academy, had covered himself with glory, by kicking a goal from the thirty-yard line.

Holly, though himself forbidden to play, was enthusiastic over it, and often assisted in the working of these theoretical problems. To-day he was not? in evidence, and when Arthur went home just after sunset, Mont looked into the living-room in search of him. Only Rob was there, as usual, deep in a book. Mont asked for Louise’s whereabouts, but Rob did not hear till the question had been three times repeated.

“She and Millie have gone over to Maude’s.” “Where is Holly?”

“Skating.”

“With whom?”

“Don’t know; Sid, I think,” and nothing further could be extracted from Rob.

Mont laid a hand on the radiator and went down to encourage the furnace fire. As he came up the cellar stairs, he saw Holly running up the walk to the office door. It was unusual for him to come in that way, and Mont stopped to see if he obtained admittance. Unless Bert was there, the door would be locked, for it was after office hours.

Dr. Jennings had not gone, and was rather surprised at his visitor, especially when he saw that Holly came with his left wrist badly bruised and swollen as if from a heavy blow.

“How did this happen?” asked the doctor as he bathed and bandaged it.

“It was hit with a hockey stick.”

Bert noticed the reluctance with which the reply was given and privately thought the game must have been a rough one, for the skin was actually broken and the bruise a severe one.

“And your nose,—how about that? I see it has been bleeding.”

Holly looked disconcerted at Bert’s keen observation. “Oh, my nose is all right!” he replied, but he escaped as soon as possible in order to avoid further questioning. Bert was never inquisitive, but his grave manner did not seem reassuring.

“Who gave you such a whack?” inquired Mont that evening.

“I don’t know whose stick it was; I didn’t see.”

“Not fair play,” commented Mont lazily. “Well, after to-morrow, you will descend to common life again. How are you to manage with that bandaged wrist?”

“Oh, I shall take the bandage off in the morning, and anyway it isn’t my sword hand,” replied Holly grandiloquently.

Mont was very nearly late at school the next day. He slipped into his seat just in time to escape report, and had scarcely recovered breath when the devotional exercises were over. Just as the classes separated for recitations, a little note was given him, requesting him, as a member of the student committee, to come at once to Dr. Callendar’s office.

Maude Kimball sat near Mont, and he glanced over to see that she also had a summons. In the confusion of filing into class-rooms, the school in general did not notice the little group that went to the principal’s private room. It was an expectant and sober committee, for this was the first meeting since their organization.

Dr. Callendar seemed annoyed and spoke without reserve.

“I am sorry to say there has been another disturbance with the Seminary boys on the river. There was a hockey game yesterday that ended in a free fight. Father Doyle knows the offenders of his own school, and tells me he shall ‘deal severely with them. I have here the names of four boys of the High School who were known to have taken a prominent part in the affair. Doubtless there were others, but these four are known to have been ring-leaders. Now these brawls, for there is no other fitting name for them, are a disgrace to the school as a whole, and the offenders ought to be punished with sufficient severity to serve as an example. When those who care for this sort of thing, once understand that the school is down on it, there will be no more trouble. The facts are perfectly plain; these four boys were seen, watched and reported by competent authority, and their guilt is undoubted. Moreover Father Doyle also reported two of them. They are all among the younger boys of the two lower classes, but for the present I withhold their names. Now, as representatives of the school and the school spirit, I leave you to decide what action you recommend me to take in this matter.”

Dr. Callendar went out, and the committee looked at one another. Mont had a horrible suspicion as to the identity of one of the four, and at the thought he felt actually sick. Was disgrace really so near his favorite brother?

Arthur Stanton, as chairman, called the meeting to order, and a brief discussion ensued. Some one raised the question as to which was the attacking party, but the point was set aside as immaterial where the honor of the school was to be preserved from a common river fight. In a spirit of highhanded justice, the committee put to vote the resolution that the four offenders should be suspended for three weeks under censure of the whole school. The vote was unanimous, for Mont, though he took no part in the discussion, was too honest to let his secret fears influence his vote. Dr. Callendar heard their decision gravely, and expressed his entire approval.

After recess the school was called together in the big assembly hall, the pupils coming in surprised curiosity as to the reason of this unusual summons. Amid a silence that could be felt, the principal told of the fight on the river the previous afternoon, and the decision of the committee as to the penalty to be inflicted, which was to be taken as a penalty enforced by the school, not merely by its principal, and carrying with it the censure of all the classes.

Mont shoved his hands into his pockets and bit his lip. His heart began to thump, and he could scarcely have felt more troubled had he been expecting his own name on the list that Dr. Callendar held.

“William Clark,” read the principal. “Stand, Clark.”

The boy obeyed, the picture of guilty confusion.

“Walter Davis.”

Another blushing culprit arose.

“Sidney Miller.” At this name, Mont’s last hope vanished and a murmur went around the hall, for Sidney was a favorite.

“And Hollis Gordon.”

The murmur was succeeded by a sort of shiver, as if the school was shaking itself to see if it was awake, and was followed by a gasp of surprise.

Holly Gordonl Maude turned to look in impulsive sympathy at Mont, but he was gazing fixedly at the floor.

Holly rose, pale, but self-possessed. He heard Louise’s choked exclamation, and met the glare of Rob’s indignant glasses. Then he lifted his head proudly and stood motionless through a lecture from the principal which ended with the sentence of suspension.

“I may add that suspension from the High School means always that the suspended person must be provided with a written permit from the superintendent of schools before he can be reinstated. Take your books and all other property, and leave the building.”

Amid a shocked silence, the four went out. Clark was a freshman, and both he and Davis belonged to the rougher element among the pupils, but the school seemed stunned by what had befallen Sidney and Hollis.

Poor Louise fled to the dressing-room and sobbed for some moments before she could control herself sufficiently to attend her next recitation. Miss Lawrence was kind, and did not ask her to recite, but the rest of the morning seemed a dreadful nightmare. Her own twin brother! Holly, whom every one liked and loved; Holly, with his funny, teasing ways, and his fashion of always getting what he wanted!

Louise had many notes written her that morning, sympathetic or indignant little notes, and if Dr. Callendar had seen that correspondence, he might have felt less certain that the decision of the committee was upheld and approved by the school as a whole.

The notes were all the comfort her friends could offer Louise till after dismissal, and then the dressing-room was a babel of voices. Louise did not say much, and she did not break down, till Maude Kimball came silently through the chattering groups of girls, put both arms about her, and kissed her lovingly. Louise still said nothing, but a tear stole down either cheek. She not only loved, but admired Maude, and knew that Mont also counted her a special friend.

Mont had waited for his sister, but when she came out with both Maude and Millie, he evidently thought she had companionship enough, and hurried home alone.

Holly did not appear at lunch; he had locked himself into his room, and would reply to ho knocks or entreaties. It was anything but a cheerful meal, for Louise cried silently, Mont spoke only in monosyllables, and Rob’s state of mind could best be described as savage, he was in such a condition of smouldering rage. After lunch he burst out vindictively.

“Holly has disgraced us all! There never was a Gordon in such a scrape before! I’m ashamed of his being my brother!”

Mont stood Rob’s storming for some moments in silence, but he finally remarked dryly,

“According to your code of ethics the disgrace seems to lie in being caught.”

Rob flared up afresh. “And you actually voted for your own brother to be suspended!”

Mont’s brow contracted. “There was nothing else to do. It was the only thing that was right”

“You have great notions of your duty,” retorted Rob. “This will be in the papers; just you see if it isn’t! You don’t seem to realize how he has disgraced us!”

He stamped out of the room angrily, and Louise said sadly,

“Now Rob is angry, and no one knows what will happen if he says anything to Holly. What shall we do, Mont?”

“Nothing,—there is nothing we can do, only go on as usual. It is Holly who will have the worst of it. I don’t know what Bert will think. Father would be angry.”

“Oh, Mont!” exclaimed Louise suddenly. “How will Holly ever get through that play tonight?”

Mont shrugged his shoulders. “He will get through it if he isn’t ill; his pride will keep him going, but it certainly is a bad business. I feel something as Rob does, only I know Holly must feel dreadfully, and I can’t help being sorry for him.”

Louise’s hopeless tears fell again, and Mont watched the fire in troubled thought. It was a terrible matter in their little world, this schoolboy disgrace.

When Bert came, he saw at once that something unusual had happened, and when he had heard the whole story, walked up and down, with his hands in his pockets, whistling almost inaudibly.

“Rather a bad mess!” he commented at last, “but cheer up, you two. Three weeks isn’t an eternity, and it may be a needed lesson.”

“It disgraces others besides himself.”

“Mont,” said Bert quickly, “I know that, but don’t you rub it in. I’ve been a younger brother myself, and I know. You have great influence over Holly, and he’s awfully fond of you, and your play just now is to hold your tongue and be kind about it.”

Moat looked surprised, for Bert’s tone, though pleasant, was both impulsive and emphatic.

“Not but that you usually are sympathetic with him,” added the doctor, “but don’t row him at all. I know it is tough and I know you feel it keenly, but you can’t begin to feel it as he will, and he doesn’t need anything further. In fact, I think him too severely punished already. Now put the best face you can on the matter.”

The atmosphere was several degrees clearer when Bert went away, and things seemed more cheerful, even to Louise, who started up to her room. In the hall she met Rob with a letter. She could not avoid seeing that it had a five-cent stamp and that he was evidently going out to the post-box.

“Oh, Rob!” she cried in distress,—“oh, Rob! you haven’t written to mother? Oh, please don’t send it now, please don’t. You know we promised each other not to write about our rows, nor anything that could worry mother.”

“I never promised,” said Rob, and Louise suddenly remembered that he had not been present when the agreement had been made between the other three.

“But, Robin, it isn’t fair for you to tell!”

“Do you think I’m not going to have them know what awful things Holly has done? I can’t stand it if you and Mont can! Besides, I haven’t written to mother; it’s to father.”

“It is the same thing and, Rob, you ought not to. Holly is the one to tell them.”

“He won’t,” said Rob with a disagreeable laugh, as he reached for his coat Mont had heard the whole conversation and now came into the hall.

“Better not, Rob,” he observed.

Rob was furious. “It is none of your business what I write to father.”

“It is Holly’s scrape, and you ought at least to give him a chance to do it himself. It is not square, Rob.”

“You have no right to interfere.”

Mont himself was not certain he had a right, but there was no time to lose. He braced himself against the door.

“Listen just a minute. Don’t post that letter till to-morrow. Really, Rob, it is not fair; this is Holly’s row, and he has a right to be the one to tell them about it, if any one does. You wouldn’t like it if either of us did it to you.”

Mont might as well have talked to the posts of the piazza. When Rob was really angry, his whole better nature seemed deaf and blind. The only way to prevent him, was by force, and Mont seized him by the shoulder. Rob flew at him instantly like a wildcat and in two seconds, both boys were on the floor, Mont simply defending himself, Rob in vindictive earnest. Louise was terrified, for such a scene was almost unprecedented. They all knew that Rob had a violent temper when roused, not like Holly’s fits of anger which lasted only a few seconds, but a matter of hours or even days. Rob himself knew his great enemy, and honestly tried to conquer it, but to-day he was quite beside himself. Still, Mont was the stronger of the two, and presently had Rob where he could not rise. The disputed letter had been tossed aside, and Louise was holding it irresolutely.

“We only ask you not to post that till to-morrow, when you have thought about it a little. Just say you won’t, and I’ll let you up.”

“I’ll kill you first,” gasped Rob.

The noise of the commotion had reached Bert’s keen ears and he appeared in the hall. “What’s all this?” he inquired rather sharply.

Louise explained. Bert took the letter from her, and said, more sternly than any of the three had ever before heard him speak:

“Let him up, Mont. Look here, Robert; I will keep this letter, and if on Sunday evening you still wish to post it, you may do so. Now, unless you wish to be locked into your own room, behave like > a reasonable being and not a wild animal. Come into the office and sit there till you can control yourself.”

Bert’s voice and face both showed that he not only meant to be obeyed, but had no doubt he would be. Rob went, white with anger, and Bert shut the door.

“Oh, how I wish mother was heret” said Louise choking, and sitting down on the stairs in despair.

“Rob is the limit!” commented Mont briefly. “Now, Pussy, cheer up; it will all come straight somehow. Come, let’s go skating, just you and me.

“If I do, I sha’n’t feel like dancing this evening, and I suppose I must”

“Then let’s have Fan and the cutter and go for a drive, ’way out in the country somewhere, where we won’t meet anybody we know.”

Louise agreed to this, and as the doctor was not intending to use Fan, they carried out their programme. The sunshine and fresh air cheered them both, and matters had assumed a brighter hue when they came in at sunset.

Holly appeared at dinner, pale, quiet, and extremely dignified. Rob was correspondingly sullen, still smarting under the recollection of the serious conversation with which Bert had occupied a few brief minutes. Dr. Jennings also seemed tired and preoccupied, and there was none of the usual fun or merry conversation.

Rob and Mont had both intended to see the operetta again that evening, but Rob threw his ticket into Louise’s lap, and went out.

“Give it to Sarah,” suggested Bert “Perhaps she will like to go again. Hollis, does your head ache?”

“A little, not much.”

“Can you get through the evening?”

“I have to,” was the impatient reply, and Bert said no more, though it was plain that Holly was suffering.

Neither Mont nor Louise spoke of the morning’s trouble on their way to the opera-house, for both felt that their brother had too much before him as it was. Mont had a word aside with Sidney, who was in extremely low spirits.

“Father almost took my head off, and mother cried,” he admitted dejectedly.

If Prince Charming was not quite as successful as before, only those who had seen previous performances noticed any shortcoming. Holly rose to the occasion and forced himself to play well his part, but though he never missed a cue nor made a mistake, the spirit of the affair was quite different. On the other days, he had so enjoyed acting, that the pleasure he himself felt, was thrown into the personality of Prince Charming. To-night he had lost all interest, but kept up bravely till the last scene of all, when as he sat on the steps of the throne, the boyish figure showed very plainly its listlessness and depression. Mont on his way to the dressing-rooms met Mrs. Davis.

“Iam afraid your brother is very tired to-night,” she said as she passed, “but we feel we owe him a tremendous vote of thanks for he has certainly made the success of the play.”

Holly was not dressed, and his weary fingers made slow work of his court suit. Mont gathered up the costume and the rest of Holly’s belongings, and had them packed before his brother was ready.

Louise had gone with Mrs. Jenckes, and was waiting with Rob in the living-room when the others came in. Sarah had provided hot chocolate, and after pouring it, Louise, more for the sake of speaking, than for any other reason, remarked,

“I am so glad the evening is over. It seemed very long.”

“This evening?“said Rob sarcastically, breaking his sullen silence. “I haven’t got over this morning yet”

Holly shivered, suddenly flung himself face down on the lounge, and to the consternation of all, burst into convulsive sobs. Mont gave Rob an indignant glance and, putting aside his cup, went over to the sofa.

“Don’t, old fellow, don’t! It doesn’t matter what you’ve done; it isn’t worth it Don’t feel so badly, Holly!”

Holly had used all his reserve strength to get through the play without a breakdown, and he was helpless under the overpowering emotion that had seized him. Rob, seeing what a tempest he had raised, stalked contemptuously upstairs. Louise was really frightened at this very unusual demonstration from her twin brother, for Hollis had never as a child, been one who cried easily or for trivial things. Mont, too, was distressed, for neither realized that it was wholly due to Holly’s overwrought nervous condition. Presently he sat up, pushed aside Mont’s arm and went to his room. Mont followed, and fifteen minutes later, reported to Bert that his brother was in bed, but in a woful state of prostration.

“I’ll come and give him something to ensure his sleeping,” said Bert cheerfully. “I was a fool ever to consent to his being in that play.”

“Bert,” said Louise rather timidly, “please don’t scold Holly very much.”

“What? For this affair at school? Bless your heart, my dear girl, I have no intention of coming down on him. He has had too much as it is, and the worst punishment of all is the one he will give himself.”

Louise was comforted by the doctor’s kind tone. “May I tell him good night?” she asked.

“Certainly; go up if you wish, and then go to bed yourself,—you have been through enough today.”

Holly’s face was hidden .in his pillow, so Louise kissed the tip of his ear, which alone was visible, and went to her room with the feeling that life “at times was very hard and trying.

CHAPTER XIV

MAKING THE BEST OF THINGS

AFTER the action of the student committee, Dr. Callendar rather expected an interview with one indignant parent in the person of Mr. Miller, but he did not anticipate remonstrance from the relatives of the other suspended pupils.

In the course of his teaching, the principal of a high school encounters men of many opinions and meets with some complete surprises. There were two in store for Dr. Callendar on the day succeeding that eventful Friday. The first was a conversation over the telephone with Mr. Miller, whose wrath against his unlucky son was intensified by the appearance of the morning papers with a half column devoted to the suspension of the four boys.

It was no wonder that much had been made of the, item when one lad was the son of the city’s mayor, and another the son of a prominent physician.

Mr. Miller not only upheld the student committee, but threatened Sidney with divers penalties, and assured Dr. Callendar that the period of suspension should not lack its disciplinary power. It was evident that poor Sidney was not finding life easy when a very indulgent parent was once roused to indignation.

The second surprise for the principal was a personal call from Dr. Jennings, who came to protest against the severity of Holly’s punishment.

Bert had no expectation that his call would alter conditions in the slightest degree, and so he told Dr. Callendar.

“I understand perfectly that you are obliged to back up the student committee. The thing is irrevocable and has to stand, but I think the penalty entirely out of proportion to the offence. Hollis was disobedient,—I don’t for one moment mean to uphold him. He deserved to be punished, but not so severely.”

“Iam sorry it happened to be Hollis and Sidney. The thing, as you say, is irrevocable, but with those two boys, neither of whom is bad,—only mischievous and irresponsible,—a milder penalty would have answered,” said Dr. Callendar.

“With student government some such denouement was sure to come,” replied Dr. Jennings curtly. “Personally, I think the faith of the school in the system will be somewhat shaken by this.

Two such popular boys cannot suffer a penalty so ill-proportioned to their offence without some reaction in feeling. It seems to me obviously unjust that a single misdemeanor, of which twenty other boys have been equally guilty, should be dealt with so hardly.”

“But, Dr. Jennings, that is exactly the reason; it was just because it was a widespread evil, and if Holly only takes it in a proper spirit —”

“Proper spirit?” interrupted Bert, indignantly. “Holly is in bed in no condition for anything but the gentlest of care; Montrose is absolutely wretched; Rob has scarcely spoken all day, and Louise looks as if she had cried all night. Holly has done nothing bad enough to be so condemned nor to cause so much suffering for himself or others! I may be wrong in the way I see this, but if there was a decent private school in the city, I should take it upon myself to send Hollis to it till his father returns. He deserved to be punished, but he did not deserve to be disgraced before the whole town!”

Louise had seen nothing of Rob that morning, and very little of Mont, who, when assured that nothing could be done for Holly, had taken himself somewhere out of the house.

In the middle of the afternoon, sitting in the upper hall outside Holly’s closed door, she heard die soft sound of a ’cello note from below.

“Oh, I hope Mont is going to play,” she thought, and hastily laid aside the book she was trying to read.

Mont was tuning the big ’cello, and did not look up as she came in.

“Just strike E for me, will you, Louise?”

Louise sat down at the piano and obediently struck notes for his guidance.

“Let’s ask Maude to bring her violin and we can have a nice time playing,” she said when the ’cello was tuned to pitch. “If we shut the doors, it can’t disturb Holly, and nothing would be more restful than just to have Maude come.”

“She needn’t bring her violin; she can use Holly’s,” said her brother, rosining his bow. “You ask her, will you, and I will tune the violin.”

Mont’s tone showed more interest in life than it had expressed all day, and Louise went to the telephone.

“She’ll come, and I’ve asked her to bring her Schubert music.”

Sarah willingly took Louise’s place in the hall, in case Holly required any attention, and Louise began to practise the accompaniment. Mont tuned the violin, and had arranged two music-stands before Maude’s slender, erect figure turned the corner.

Maude had other plans for the afternoon, but she willingly put them aside, since from Louise’s tone it was evident that her sunny presence would be a real Messing in the troubled Gordon home. The door opened as she came quickly up the walk, and Louise received her with open arms.

“You are such a comfort, Maude, and we truly need you, Mont and I.”

Maude pressed her cool cheek against her friend’s hot one.

“I’m glad to have some music, too, even if we are minus our second violin. It is a shame Holly is feeling so ill. Here are some of the violets Uncle James brought me; they are for you, or you may give them to Holly, just as you choose. And mother sends you her best love.”

By the time Maude had removed her heavy coat and pretty fur cap, and arranged her soft hair, Louise’s face was brighter, and Mont’s, too, looked more serene. Maude’s smiling and gentle presence seemed to bring peace.

Maude warmed her fingers while Louise put the flowers in water, and then lifted the violin.

*’ I’m glad Holly’s is in commission, for I broke my E string, and forgot to buy another. Oh, it is already tuned! It is some time since we played this together.”

“I shall make terrible mistakes,” said Louise, as she seated herself at the piano, “for I don’t know it very well.”

“It will be hit or miss with me,” replied Mont, sitting down with the big ’cello, while Maude raised the violin to her shoulder and drew the bow. “All ready, Pussy!”

The first notes seemed to break the tension that hung over the house, and before the second page was turned, it was evident that Maude and the music had indeed been what Louise and Mont needed.

Bert, driving home in the dark, drew rein outside the house, for they had turned on the lights and forgotten to draw the shades. It was a pretty picture for all who passed, the violinist in her graceful attitude, the white-clad girl at the piano and the boyish head bent over the ’cello.

“Those children have some sense after all,” thought Bert “Maude’s sweet sympathy will cheer Louise, and the music will take Mont out of himself.”

Holly felt better on Sunday morning and pluck-ily insisted on dressing and going downstairs. Once there, he subsided on the living-room couch, and quite meekly consented to have his breakfast brought him.

“Take Louise to church,” said Dr. Jennings to Mont. “She didn’t go out all day yesterday, and it will do you both good.”

Louise accepted Mont’s escort as a matter of course, but was suiyrised when Rob came also. He had scarcely spoken to any one since Friday, and they thought him still sulky. Poor Rob! he was unfortunate in being one of those persons who, when most needing and craving sympathy, only succeed in repelling it. He was in reality suffering from an intense fit of contrition for his loss of temper and its consequences, but nothing could induce him to admit it Holly lay among the cushions with Fluffy beside him, purring like a feline dynamo, and occasionally patting him with a velvet paw or gently biting his ear. Holly was fond of the kitten and the little animal was more devoted to him than to its real owner, Louise.

Fluffy did not find a responsive playmate that morning, for Hollis felt far from well, and was realizing very keenly the disgrace he had brought upon himself.

Bert came in with a cheery smile, and a gentle touch on the pale forehead.

“Too tired to talk a few minutes, Holly, or rather, to hear me talk?”

“No,” was the reply, but from the tone it was plain that the speaker expected a lecture.

“I had an interview yesterday afternoon with Dr. Callendar and told him exactly what I thought of this affair.”

Bert stopped, for Holly’s startled gray eyes opened so wide that it was difficult to refrain from laughing.

“It had no effect, and I knew it wouldn’t, except to relieve my own mind. In the nature of things he was bound to back up the committee. Given student government and existing conditions, something of the kind was sure to come. Now, brother, I don’t think a scrap on the river is a very creditable performance for one of your father’s sons, who presumably is a gentleman, nor do I approve of your disobedience,—please don’t misunderstand me on that point,—but I do think the penalty too severe. I really do not think you have done anything bad enough to deserve it, and I am not the only one who thinks so.”

Holly made no reply in words but looked as if a great weight had been removed from his mind. Bert went on in his cheerful manner.

“Unluckily my opinion .doesn’t alter matters; the penalty has to stand. As for the three weeks’ suspension,— Louise will tell you what lessons are assigned, and if you get into difficulties, I am willing to play tutor.

“There is just one thing more. Mr. Miller doesn’t see this as I do, and he has positively forbidden Sidney to skate again this winter. You know exactly what your own conscience says in the matter, and you may skate or not, as it absolves or condemns you.”

Holly’s eyes fell, and his pale face flushed a little. Dr. Jehnings smiled as he continued. This shaft had evidently found a mark.

“That is all I have to say, brother. Now, are we just as good friends as ever?”

“Bert, you are a brick!” and Holly held out an impulsive hand.

The doctor pressed it cordially as he added,

“Cheer up and take the consequences like a man; there is nothing else to do. Fluff seems camivor-ously inclined this morning. I see he has begun on the other ear.”

“Stop it, you cannibal!” exclaimed Holly suddenly, as he pushed the kitten away with a touch much more gentle than his tone. “Bert, I am sorry!” he added penitently.

“I know it, and so am I,” said the doctor with a keen look into the gray eyes. “I hope/’ he added gently, “that you will feel like telling the others so.”

Holly lay very quietly among the cushions after Bert had gone. Fluff tried in vain to produce a response from him; it was useless, and the kitten finally curled itself into a purring ball beside his cheek, to wait until a more frolicsome playmate should be provided.

Louise heard little of the sermon that morning, for other matters occupied her thoughts. How much difference Maude’s visit had made on the previous afternoon! It was invariably true that wherever Maude came, things were the pleasanter for her presence. She was only an average student; she was always unassuming; she was not really pretty. What was the secret of her charm, and her undeniable power of making other people happy?

Louise stole a glance at her brother, whose grave brown eyes were studying a memorial window. Mont made no secret of his liking for quiet Maude, and was never [mown to pay special attention to anyone else, though the captain of the football team was a hero to all the girls.

The result of Louise’s meditation was a firm resolve to make, by her own effort, the rest of that Sunday brighter than it promised to be.

When she came into the living-room after dinner, Rob was reading by a distant window, Holly was apparently asleep, and Mont, in a big chair, with hands clasped behind his head, was gazing idly into the fire that he had just “stoked.” Louise gave it an approving glance; it would be an excellent fire for popcorn a little later. Handing Mont the last “Youth’s Companion,” she sat down herself to read, in a place from which she had a good view of Holly, who was lying very quietly with eyes closed, and profile clear cut against a blue silk pillow. It was a good profile with an especially fine nose and chin, but Holly looked pale and tired, and there was a wistful expression about the mouth, usually so merry.

Louise read for a while, but glancing up at the end of a chapter, discovered that Holly was no longer asleep, and laying aside her book, she made room for herself on the couch beside him, and began gently to stroke his bright hair. Holly made no comment, nor appeared to notice, but Louise fancied that his attitude grew less weary.

It grew gradually darker, and Rob laid aside his book and went out. Mont stretched himself with a mighty yawn, and a glance at the sofa.

“How do you feel, Holly?” he inquired.

“I feel,” replied Holly without opening his eyes, “as I felt that day ever so long ago, when you and I tried to see how bad we could be. Do you remember?”

“I don’t remember exactly what we did, but I recall being punished at the end of it.”

“Yes,” said Holly with an unwilling smile, “that usually was the end, but it wasn’t that I meant. It is the feeling of having been so bad that it isn’t any use ever to try again.”

“Nonsense!” said Mont, but the comment was not an impatient one. Louise had been playing with a lock of hair that she could curl over her finger in a little ringlet, but at this she suddenly protested by putting her soft cheek against Holly’s forehead.

“Bert thinks it was unjust,” she said impulsively, “and so does Mrs. Jenckes, and the Kimballs and several other people. Was Bert very hard on you?”

“No indeed! Bert is an up and down, A number one gentleman.”

“Of course,” began Mont, “it does seem unjust in a way, because everybody knows you and Sid were not the only ones, though you have to take the penalty. It just happens to be you; it might just as well have been Rob, for I know he was in at least two fights on the river, though he didn’t happen to be caught”

“Rob can go to thunder with his twaddle about my disgracing him,” said Holly shortly. “It reminds me of Satan reproving sin.”

“Rob isn’t happy to-day. I think he feels sorry he said so much,” remarked Louise gently.

“Rob needs to have a floor wiped up with him. But I am sorry about you two.”

Holly’s voice sounded as if he meant it, and for the next few minutes Louise had a chance to pet him as much as she chose.

“We shall get over it,” said Mont gravely at last. “I do feel badly because I was one of the committee, and somehow it seems to have turned out an awful mess, and yet at the time it seemed the only right thing to do.”

“Oh, it had to cone,” replied Holly wearily. “I suppose I must make up my mind to be ‘ jawed ’ by all the grown people of my acquaintance, and to have the entire school, teachers and all, down on me for the rest of the year.”

“Aunt Harriet is the only one who will ‘ jaw.’ As for the school, half of it sides with you, and the other half is sorry. I don’t mean they think you did right, but they are sorry it was you and Sid.”

“I declare I’ve a mind not to go back! Bert can’t make me if I won’t.”

“Of course you will have to go back; there is nothing else to do. It won’t be easy, but every one is fond of you, and that will help. Poor Sid has had a terrible time! It wouldn’t surprise me if he spent most of the three weeks locked up on bread and water. And it is hard on him, for he isn’t used to having Mr. Miller down on him. Anyway, I’m glad mother isn’t here, for it would worry her, and I really think father would be rather angry.”

“That he would,” murmured Holly. “It would be useless to recommend him to smile under these circumstances.”

Louise laughed. “You’ll tell them yourself, won’t you, Holly dear? If you don’t, I’m afraid they’ll hear in some other way.”

“Yes, I’ll write to dad, and he can do as he chooses about telling mother.”

Louise made no comment, but mother was’the one to whom she would have written. There had always been a strong affection, however, between the doctor and Holly, who seemed instinctively to understand each other, and when Holly was in trouble, which was frequently, he usually chose to confide in his father. Both the other boys, while sincerely attached to the doctor, felt more reserve with him, while Holly apparently considered his father as a being of his own age, only a little wiser, and was in the habit of saying anything he chose to him. This trait had made his second son secretly very dear to the doctor, who never failed to respond to Holly’s confidences.

“Let’s pop corn!” said Louise after a long silence during which the room had grown gradually darker, and the firelight had lessened until only the glowing coals were left “Will you get the things, Mont? I left them ready in the dining-room closet.”

Holly sat up and helped shell com, while Mont wielded the popper. Presently Rob came in and stood leaning against the mantel till Mont had finished with the fire. Then he drew something from his pocket and flung it behind the back log. As it blazed up, both Louise and Mont saw that it was the disputed letter.

“Good for you, Robin!” said Mont, slapping him cordially on the back.

Rob merely grunted as he switched on a light and reached for his book. Even that had not been an easy thing to do, and any spoken apology was out of the question for him.

When Bert came in a little after six, he was surprised to find the dining-room unlighted and no preparation made for tea. The odor of popcorn led him to the living-room door, where he stopped to smile at the unusual aspect presented by the interior.

A round table faced the fire beside the couch where Holly, propped with cushions, was looking more animated than he had appeared for some time. Three or four little stands holding plates and glasses stood around, while Mont was stirring the contents of a steaming chafing-dish, and Louise knelt on the hearth rug making toast, which Rob was buttering.

“Oh, Bert, you are just in time!” she exclaimed, laying aside the magazine with which she had been screening her face. “That’s the last slice, Robin, so please put some wood on the fire. Bert, this is a picnic, my picnic, for I created it Will you come to it? There are oysters on toast, and tea for you, and chocolate for the rest of us, and some lovely brown toast and hot milk for Holly, and two kinds of sandwiches and cookies and olives and popcorn. Doesn’t it sound like a nice picnic?”

“It sounds like a tremendously nice picnic I Are there any caterpillars? Where am I to sit and what shall I do to help?”

“It is all ready now. You may sit anywhere you please except at the round table, which is engaged for Holly and me,” replied Louise, distributing napkins and forks.

“Let me pass things!” exclaimed the doctor. “It’s a specialty of mine. When I was a small boy, I was always adlowed to hand the ladies their tea.” “There is hardly anything to pass around, for we have planned the tables so we am reach without rising, and there is to be only one cup of tea, you know. Will you have it now or later?”

“Both times, please!” was the merry reply. “Mont, these oysters are great! You were certainly cut out for a chef. What a jolly idea to have supper in here, Louise!”

“I thought it would be fun,” replied Louise, coloring with pleasure. “I’m glad this is a picnicky family. Some people would be shocked not to sit down properly at a table. As it is, Sarah thinks we are a little mad, and everybody is warned not to spill things.”

Bert smiled in appreciation of Louise’s effort, and both he and Mont exerted themselves to be specially entertaining. Before the impromptu meal was over, the Gordon family, to all outward appearances, was itself again.

Had she wished any reward for her unselfish attempt to “truly be a sunbeam,” Louise had it that same evening, for both the older boys came and kissed her affectionately before going upstairs. Holly rubbed his cheek against hers in a loving way he sometimes had, and Mont said in her ear, “Pussy, you are an out and out trump I”

CHAPTER XV

Aunt baiur scents a mystexy

THE next morning, Hollis was still far from feeling like himself, but when die house was quiet after the departure of the others for school, he invited Fluff to share the lounge with him, and bravely wrote a letter to Dr. Gordon. It made matters out quite as bad as they really were, for Holly offered no extenuating circumstances and made no excuses.

Bert, coming in about noon, found him asleep, with the addressed and stamped envelope beside him ready for the mail. He smiled as he saw it, for in his own pocket was another epistle destined to accompany it across the Atlantic.

Louise greatly dreaded that first morning at school, but it was not difficult, for every one was kind, and it was plain that the tide of sympathy set strongly in her brother’s favor.

In the days that followed, Holly recovered his usual strength and somewhat of his accustomed light-heartedness, and became Bert’s shadow, often driving for the doctor in Patrick’s place or studying his lessons in the laboratory while Bert worked. The laboratory was always a fascinating place to Holly, who was himself rather fond of “messing with chemicals.”

Bert proved a delightful tutor, though he rather amazed his pupil by his extensive and accurate knowledge of classical grammar, which had been too thoroughly rubbed into him at Winchester to be easily forgotten, and the lessons served to strengthen a friendship already firm. At the end of the three weeks Dr. Jennings went to see Mr. Weston, the superintendent of schools, regarding Holly’s return. Holly was rather disconcerted to find that he also must go.

“That means another lecture, I suppose,” he growled, and it was unwillingly that he accompanied Bert on the errand. It was not a long interview, and though the superintendent did lecture him, the ordeal was not as bad as he had expected. Coming out, they met Sidney and his father bound apparently on the same errand, poor Sidney looking absolutely wretched. Holly was very quiet as they drove up-town; he was thinking that Sidney had to all appearances had a hard time, and that Bert had been kind.

He went soberly to school on Monday, half-dreading his reception, but every one seemed glad to see him again, even Dr. Callendar, who called him and Sidney into the office to express his regret at his obligation to discipline them so severely. Both boys seemed sorry and ashamed, and so evidently meant to redeem their reputations that he took pains to be sympathetic and cordial. Neither of the other suspended pupils returned to school.

Thanks to Bert’s assistance, Holly found that he was easily abreast of his class, and took his old place without trouble. The boys gave him a welcome and the girls seemed to regard him as an injured martyr. More than one imaginative lassie had rather lost her head over Prince Charming as he appeared on the stage. Holly was not especially devoted to the girls, though he knew they all liked him and were flattered to receive any attention, however trivial, from him. At times he guyed Mont unmercifully for his never wavering courtesies to Maude and to no one else, but thought nothing himself of carrying on a correspondence with three or four girls at once, or of wearing, at the same time, the society pins of six different young ladies.

On his return to school he was rather surprised to find that Helen Howard seemed to have some claim on him. Holly liked Helen; she was good fun to skate and dance with, and she would do anything any one else dared do. Through some strange contradiction, Holly saw the more of her because neither Mont nor Louise liked her, nor had Helen any special friend among the girls. Holly had not been unwilling to be one of five or six cavaliers, but now he found the other boys tacitly regarding Helen as his particular province. It was a natural result of the play, in which they had taken the leading parts, and of Holly’s naughty performance behind the scenes, yet he was a little puzzled by this turn of affairs, for he had no intention of spending all his spare time at Helen’s beck and call.

It happened early in February that Bert went unexpectedly to Boston. By making an early start it might be possible to return the same day, but he would probably be detained over night, and before going, he asked Mont to come downstairs to sleep, so that Louise might not be left alone on the second floor. Dr. Jennings had been occupying Dr. Gordon’s room across the hall, but Louise requested Mont to take his mother’s, which opened from hers.

“All right, Pussy,” said Mont good-naturedly; “are you afraid?”

“Not exactly; only burglars might get in. Anyway, Millie is coming to spend the night.”

“Then I’ll take a nap this afternoon.”

“Why?”

“You two will talk all night.”

“OH, no, we won’t, but Millie’s birthday is the fourteenth, you know, and she is to have a dance, and there is a great deal to plan.”

Part of the birthday plans were made that afternoon, for Sarah let the girls make pecan taffy, helped them with the nuts, and did not say a word when sugar was spilled on her clean stove.

Holly came in about four, and did algebra and Latin with them, but the others were not at home till later. It was a merry dinner, though Holly seemed full of suppressed mischief, which made his sister regard him suspiciously. Still, his behavior was irreproachable.

After dinner they played games till nearly nine, when Mont and Holly invited them to come into the laboratory. They had secured lemons, sugar and cookies, and had mixed the lemonade in a retort and served it in beakers, which, as Louise suggested, might have been used for unknown poisons! No one seemed alarmed, and it was nearly ten before the informal feast was over, and they went upstairs, Mont coming last, after assuring himself that everything was fastened securely.

As a matter of fact, Sarah came down as soon as she heard him go up, and looked for herself at each door and window.

Louise and Millie were not sleepy and talked so long that Mont finally knocked at the connecting door and asked if he should make them some more lemonade. After so much conversation, it seemed probable that they must be thirsty.

“Are we keeping you awake?” asked Louise laughing. “Can you hear what we say?”

“Oh, not distinctly; it is only a murmur. I don’t distinguish any words,—it goes in one ear and out the other and doesn’t disturb me.”

After that, the girls talked in whispers, and were just becoming drowsy, when Louise suddenly sat up with a start. She did not realize at first just .vhat had roused her, but it was an unusual noise in her room, apparently coming from her bureau, an odd fumbling noise. Much frightened, she seized Millie.

“Millie, what is that?”

Her bedfellow was roused at once. The noise continued, not loud, but peculiar and indescribable.

“It must be a mouse,” said Millie.

“Mice don’t make such wooden-y noises. It sounds like somebody trying to open a window.”

“Burglars!” suggested Millie, with chattering teeth.

The room was very dark; and but for this odd noise, perfectly still. It was a singular sound, quite unlike anything she could think of. There was a whir and also an occasional thump.

“I can’t stand this,” said Louise; “I am going to wake Mont.”

Millie flung her arms about her. “Oh, don’t 1 I can’t have you step out of this bed!”

“I’ll have to.”

“Oh, turn on the light. Can’t you readi it?”

“Yes-s, but suppose he’s inside here.”

“I’m sure he’s not in the room.”

Louise switched on the electric light, and the frightened girls stared around them. There was no one there and the noise had abruptly ceased.

“There!” said Millie, made bolder by the light. “It’s a mouse surely.”

“I guess it was,” said Louise after a moment, as she put out the light and cuddled down. Instantly the noise was resumed. Louise touched the switch again, but after a pause of a second the queer sound continued.

“I’m going to call Mont,” said Louise, putting on her slippers and seizing her pretty pink wrapper.

Mont was sound asleep when she spoke and shook him slightly.

“Burglars! Stuff and nonsense! Let me alone, will you?”

“But, Mont, there is something! There really is!”

“Oh, it’s a mouse! Chivy him with something. Millie won’t want me to come in there.”

“She’s too scared to care. Now listen, Mont; you can hear it in here! That’s no mouse!”

Her brother listened and had his curiosity aroused. It certainly was an odd sound.

“All right, I’ll come,” and he presently appeared in bath-robe and slippers.

“W-what is it?” gasped Millie, her eyes big above the counterpane. Louise scrambled up in a little pink heap on the foot of the bed, while Mont, in some disgust, but with growing interest, investigated the matter. His search was fruitless, for there seemed absolutely nothing in the room from which the noise could come, which nevertheless continued at irregular intervals. He looked into the closets, investigated the faucets of the set bowl, and examined the hall, which was stillness itself. Finally he stood in the centre of the room, completely puzzled. The noise seemed to come from the bureau, but he had inspected every-drawer and found nothing amiss.

“That is queer!” he admitted, turning to look for the tenth time at this innocent piece of furniture.

“What is that funny little shadow?” asked Millie. “See, like a line.”

Mont looked closely. Across the wall fell a wavering shadow so slender it had escaped his notice. Apparently it was thrown by a fine thread that hung carelessly from the upper drawer. Mont opened the drawer and found that a spool was reposing under a pile of handkerchiefs. But the connecting thread passed once around the brass knob of the drawer, down behind a chair, under a rug, behind Louise’s desk, ah—under the door of the adjoining guest room! The solution of the problem flashed instantly on Mont, and he made a dive for the door. It was locked, with the key on the other side, but a suppressed chuckle confirmed his suspicions.

“Holly Gordon, you need a licking!” he growled, as he snapped the thread. “I just wish father was here to give it to you.”

“He wouldn’t get it if he was,” said Louise, and the remark was true. Since Dr. Gordon’s sons had grown too big to be spanked conveniently, though he occasionally talked to them, as Holly phrased it, “like a Dutch uncle,” he never laid a finger on them.

“There is your burglar,” said Mont, throwing the spool into the bed. “Now I have a mind to lock Holly in there for the rest of the night!”

Holly had already escaped, with a laugh so contagious that even the girls could not help joining in their relief at the outcome of their scare. They enjoyed the joke now it was over, but Mont went back to bed, vowing vengeance on his mischievous brother. He was scarcely settled again, when a shivering figure in blue pajamas appeared and without ceremony scrambled into bed with him.

“Go away!” ejaculated Mont. “What are you coming here for?”

‘ “It’s c-cold,” said Holly sweetly. “I had to wind a long time before those girls would hear, and it was very cold in there. You don’t seem to realize that!”

Mont made an impatient move to the edge of the bed, and Holly promptly took the vacated centre.

“It’s nice and warm here, Mont; you’d better move back.”

The sheer impudence of this was too much! Mont forgot how nearly out of bed he was, made a hasty turn and came down on the floor with a thud, sweeping all the bed covers with him.

“Here, quit pulling things off me!” exclaimed the saucy intruder.

This was more than Mont’s fraternal affection could endure. He was not hurt from his fall, but be had chanced to land on his slippers. He arose, armed with one, and before his laughing brother could wriggle from his grasp, got in half a dozen resounding slaps.

“There, you should be warm enough now!” he said when his victim had escaped. “Just you go back to your own room!”

He remade the bed, and had tucked himself comfortably into it when Louise again opened her door.

“Mont, there is somebody downstairs. I heard a door shut, fend then steps.”

“Jupiter crickets! I might as well sit up the rest of the night! It’s probably Holly; he was skylarking round here.”

“No, Holly has gone upstairs; I heard him in his room. It was the office door.”

Mont gave a sigh and sat up in resignation. “Do go back to bed, Pussy. I’ll see.”

“But I don’t want you to go down alone, Mont. Call Holly.”

“No, for goodness’ sake, if Holly has really gone, don’t stir him up again!”

Mont had no faith in her theory of a midnight invader, but he was too patient with Louise to refuse a second investigation. He put on his bath- robe again, took a golf-stick as the only available weapon, and went out into the upper hall. Everything was stilL

“I am sure I heard some one,” said Louise from her door.

“I’ll go down, but go back to bed; you will take cold.”

The lower hall was partly lighted by a street lamp on the comer. No one was in library, living-room or dining-room, and Mont opened the door that led to the ell, without the slightest expectation of seeing anybody. Therefore he was really startled by a light in the office, showing plainly under the door and through the keyhole. He paused for a second to think what was best to do, and distinctly heard two voices in muffled conversation. Then the outer door closed softly, and someone inside shot the bolt and turned the key. Mont at once realized that Bert had probably come back very late and let himself into the house, so he knocked gently on the office door and spoke.

Dr. Jennings opened it immediately. “Well, so I waked you, Mont? I hoped to come in without disturbing any one.”

“Oh, this is only the second time to-night that Louise has had me out hunting for burglars. I’m glad you’re not one, Bert. I was on the point of telephoning for the police! But is anything wrong?”

There were two telegrams on the desk, and a messenger had evidently brought another which Bert still held in his hand.

Dr. Jennings saw from Mont’s startled glance at the cablegram, that he thought there was bad news from Italy.

“No, no, they are all right,” he said hastily; “these aren’t from Dr. Gordon. It’s just some business of my own in England.”

“Excuse me,” said Mont, looking relieved. “I couldn’t help seeing it was a cablegram and I thought something must have happened to them.”

“Not at all. My visit to Boston was wholly a personal one.”

Dr. Jennings looked terribly tired and as if something troubled him.

“You must be used up,” said Mont sympathetically. “Have you had anything to eat?”

“Not much; I am going to investigate Sarah’s pantry, and then I shall turn in, so be off with you.”

“I trust Louise will let me sleep after this,” said Mont as he ran up.

The mere knowledge that Dr. Jennings was in the house, restored tranquillity to the girls and they subsided at once. Mont, had he been less sweet-tempered, might have been annoyed by their expressions of relief, for he had certainly submitted patiently to being called twice, had solved one mystery and proved himself quite willing to take up arms against the second invader had he proved a burglar. He really had a right to be mortified at their indifference to his efforts, but he took it serenely and slept undisturbed till morning.

At breakfast, Bert heard the story of their first alarm, and though he laughed, shook his head at Holly.

“You scamp! is that the way you behave in my absence?”

“He ought to be whacked!” commented Mont, but Holly only laughed.

“That from you? I’m all bruises now!”

“Glad of it. I tried to do my duty by you.”

“You may wish you hadn’t,” said Holly, passing his plate for a second johnny cake.

Mont was reminded of this remark that evening when he put out his light and got into bed. Holly had rescued from destruction die shells left from the pecans and added a choice assortment of pointed walnuts. These, carefully disposed under the lower sheet, were not the softest of couches. Mont was obliged to get up and remove them, but he did it very quietly. He had heard Holly fasten his con-netting door that night, and wondered at the time, for it usually stood open, but now he would not give him the gratification of knowing how his prank was succeeding. When his brother inquired the next morning if he slept well, Mont replied, “Like a top,” and there was not a vestige of the shells to be found.

Beyond doubt, Bert was worried over something, for he was preoccupied and silent, even absent-minded, and so unlike himself that the children spoke of it to one another.

“He may have some patient he is very anxious over,” suggested Mont.

“I know he is worried about little Phebe Stoddard, for he told me so when I was driving for him the other afternoon,” said Rob. “She is very ill, and he went there three times that day.”

“Yes, but Phebe is better,” said Louise, “for I asked about her this morning, but still he seems disturbed. I hope it is nothing we have done.”

Louise and Mont were invited to dine that evening with Aunt Harriet. She said in her note that she should not ask Hollis, after his inexcusable refusal to come and explain to her the reason of .his disgrace at school. His conduct in’ getting suspended was shocking in itself, and his declining to come when she wished to talk the matter over with him, was quite unpardonable. Neither would she include Rob, for she heard he had a cold, and ought to avoid the night air. This note made Holly angry for the time, and caused Rob to declare that he should spend the evening coasting. Mont did not wish to accept the invitation, but Louise was so dismayed at thought of going alone and encountering her aunt’s displeasure at his absence that he yielded to her entreaties.

He did not enjoy the stately dinner; it was such a contrast to their merry ones at home. Mont was beginning to understand that all Aunt Harriet’s money could never purchase love and sympathy and contentment for her. He did not think in words, that there are some things that money cannot buy, and that these priceless possessions were very plentiful in his own home, but he did realize very keenly that money is not the only thing in the world, nor the one best worth having.

Mont was Aunt Harriet’s favorite nephew. She approved of Charlie, but him she seldom saw. Rob was too taciturn and uncommunicative to please her, while Hollis was liable to be, if not exactly disrespectful, flippant and irresponsible. She did not understand why Hollis was such a favorite with so many people, for in her opinion he had very serious faults. To-night she spoke most scathingly of his suspension from school, and his subsequent refusal to obey her summons. Louise tried in vain to defend him.,

“You needn’t say a word, child! You are all alike in trying to shield him. Even your father laughs at things he does instead of punishing him for them. He should have been severely reprimanded.”

“But, Aunt Harriet,” said Mont, “Holly did not get off without a reprimand, and more than one, from Bert and Dr. Callendar and Mr. Weston, and Uncle Ned wrote to ask about it,—wasn’t that enough?”

“It takes a great deal to produce any effect on a person of Hollis’s temperament.”

“I assure you Holly felt very badly indeed, Aunt Harriet.”

“Very badly it must have been! Don’t I see him going past here four days out of five, flirting with that pert daughter of Marion Howard? He acts as if he was extremely penitent! You need make no excuses for him. Hollis ought to be taken in hand, and I would have done my duty by him, but as it is, Helen and the doctor will let things go on. He will doubtless be expelled from college, make an imprudent marriage and go to the bad as fast as can be. I am fully prepared for the worst.”

Louise looked perfectly aghast, but Mont, who was out of Aunt Harriet’s line of vision, made a face and remarked cheerfully,

“I guess there is some chance for him yet, Aunt Harriet; Holly’s only sixteen 1”

“Boys of sixteen have made fools of themselves before now, and certainly Hollis has begun in good season. It is due in part to his red hair, which argues a violent and unreasonable disposition!”

Mont gave a comical sigh. It was of no use to talk on this subject, and he took from the table a newspaper. He was surprised to find it an English publication.

“The ‘London Times?’ I didn’t know you subscribed to a foreign paper, Aunt Harriet”

“That paper, which you will see is of a date a couple of weeks ago, was sent by an English friend. You may remember, Louise, when Mrs. Glenden-ning visited me a few years ago. I wish, Montrose, you would turn to the second page and read aloud the marked article.”

In some surprise, Mont did as requested. The article in question was easy to find, being enclosed in broad blue pencil marks.

“The many friends of Lady Lariston are waiting with anxious interest for news of her ladyship’s little son, the present Earl of Lariston, who was so frightfully injured in the runaway in Hyde Park on Monday last. His case is considered desperate, and the eminent physicians in charge give little hope of a favorable outcome. The estates and title are entailed and revert to the little earl’s eldest uncle, third son of his grandfather, the sixth earl. Lord Carisbrooke, eldest son and heir of the sixth Lord Lariston, was killed while hunting, and the estates and title passed to the second son, Lionel, father of the present young earl. His sudden and lamented death occurred five years ago. Two sons of the sixth earl are supposed to be still living, though both, as young men, left England. The younger of the two is known to be married and living in Australia, but the elder, who is next in succession, is supposed to be in America, though the locality is unknown, as after the death of the dowager Lady Lariston, all trace of him was lost.”

Mont finished reading and laid the paper down feeling somewhat mystified.

“I hope now,” said Aunt Harriet oracularly, “that your father has had enough of mysterious young men. I have always had my suspicions, and upon receipt of this marked paper, I sent my maid to the Public Library to consult the copy of Burke’s Peerage. I was not at all disappointed in the resuit I find that the younger sons of the Earls of Lariston bear the family name of Jennings,”

“Jupiter crickets!” exclaimed Mont, startled out of all composure at this announcement. “Is it possible!”

“Not only possible, but probable. I consider it very underhanded in that young man to come here and live among us,‘and never tell us who he is.”

“You mean that Bert may be the person referred to?” asked Louise; “the one in America whose address they don’t know?”

“I do,” said Aunt Harriet, and she was quite convinced that no other young man in the United States could possibly be the missing heir. Both her guests were much interested, and Aunt Harriet grew more gracious as she saw what an impression her news had made. When they were leaving, Mont asked if he might borrow the paper. Permission being given, they started homeward, Louise quite excited over the possibility. She was surprised when Mont, who had been thinking hard, suddenly said,

“Do you know, Pussy, I don’t believe this is anything we ought to speak about to any one. I am inclined to think there may be some truth in it, for something has been worrying Bert lately, but if he had ever wanted us to know, he would have told us.”

“Oh, don’t you think we may tell Holly and Rob?”

“We haven’t anything to tell; it is just this paper, and the name, and the fact that Bert isn’t like himself. I wonder if he would be angry if I asked him?”

“I never saw him angry,” said Louise.

“Nor I, but I don’t believe I should care to.”

They discussed it all the way home, and finally, since Louise was excited at the idea of so romantic a thing being possible in their own home, they decided to show Bert the paper. The others were not around, and Bert was in his office working at his desk when the two came in. He looked up with a smile as they stopped in the doorway. Louise was very pretty in her simple white dress, with Aunt Harriet’s belt of the Gordon tartan, and both young faces were expectant.

“Anything I can do for either of you?” he inquired, noticing that something unusual was in the air.

“We want to ask you something!” began Louise, her eyes shining like stars in her excitement. “Only,—perhaps you will think it is none of our business.”

“In which case/’ said Mont, shutting the door with care, “you are requested to tell us so.”

He laid the “Times” on Bert’s desk and pointed to the marked article. Dr. Jennings read it with an unmoved countenance, looked at its date and calmly asked where it came from.

“An English friend of Aunt Harriet’s sent it,” said Louise in some disappointment at Bert’s perfect serenity. “She showed it to us.”

“Yes, and what is it you want to know?” in the same quiet tone.

“Aunt Harriet says the family name of the Earls of Lariston is Jennings,” said Mont.

“And so you children have been weaving a romance about me?” asked Bert with a laugh so genuine that both looked abashed. But after a moment, he added,

“Look here, can you two keep a secret?”

“I can,” said Mont gravely, and Louise exclaimed, “I’ll never tell a soul!”

“Sit down then and listen. It is quite true that I am the third son of the sixth Earl of Lariston, but I am thankful to say that there is no chance whatever of my succeeding to that title, for the little chap referred to is wonderfully better, almost out of danger,—thank Heaven! And even if he were not on the road to recovery, I should have only the title. The estates are not entailed; the paper is wrong there.”

“But how do you know the little boy is better?” “I have kept in touch with a certain lawyer in London, an old friend of the family. He has always known my whereabouts and he has informed me by cablegrams of little Lariston’s condition.”

“But, Bert, wouldn’t you like to be an earl?”

“Not now, Louise,” said Bert gently. “Kipling speaks of the ‘bitter road the younger son must tread,’ and you Americans have no idea of the way England is cursed by the law of primogeniture which centres on the first-born son. There were four of us boys; Carisbrooke was the heir, of course, and his career was settled. Lionel was destined for the army, I for the church, and Cecil for the navy, as best disposing of us. Then Carisbrooke was killed by his horse’s falling on him, and Lionel became my father’s heir. I finally won permission to study medicine, and Cecil, as a matter of fact, ranched it in Australia. Something happened after Carisbrooke died, that made me wish to leave England forever, and since my mother also was dead, I heard from no one in England except this old friend.”

Bert had never said as much to any one before, and he ended abruptly.

“I have made a place for myself here now, and I am very happy in it, and in my work. I have no desire to be summoned bade, and I think I should refuse to go, for a landless earl would cut a poor figure. I hope I shall never have even the title; I really care more for my hard-won medical degree that I earned myself.”

“Did you never have a sister?”

“No, Louise, only three brothers. Have I knocked your little romance into bits? I am a good American citizen, and I hope to live and die in my adopted country.”

“I shouldn’t like the little boy to die on purpose, but it would have been so exdting for you to be the heir and a truly earl.”

“It seems to me you can find it just as exciting now he is recovering. I should have been in a bad state if he had died.”

“What is his name?”

“Whose? Little Lariston’s? Bertram; he was named for me. Lion was always my favorite brother when we were boys.”

There was a silence. Bert was thinking of a certain sweet English girl whom he had loved very devotedly and truly, who had thrown him over for Lionel when he became his father’s heir. It was the familiar story; Bert had been deceived by both his betrothed and the brother whom he loved, and in the heat of his anger, he had left England forever. He had never heard from them directly nor written to them himself, but when he knew that their first bom son had been named for him, his resentment had been a little lessened. No word of this was spoken, and Bert came out of his reverie with a smile.

“Do you know I have never said as much as this to any one before?”

Both young faces reflected the smile. “We will never tell,“said Mont, “and we thank you for trusting us.”

“Iam sure you will respect my confidence. Does Louise still feel disappointed?

“‘A king can make a belted knight,

A marquis, duke and a* that,

But an honest man’s aboon his might,

Guid faith, he maunna fa’ that I ’”

“‘The rank is but the guinea’s stamp,’” Mont added to the quotation.

Bert smiled at Louise’s serious face. “I shall^1 never forget how kind and considerate your father and mother have always been to me, and I hope sometime to have an opportunity to repay it; if not to them, to their children. I should be very lonely sometimes if it were not for you four,” he ended laughing.

“Do father and mother know this?”

“Your father knows that I am one of Lord Lariston’s relatives, but I am not sure he knows I am next in succession. It never seemed of much importance, and I scarcely realized it myself till I knew of the little lad’s serious accident. But I hope my shingle will grace this town for many a long year. I certainly mean it shall.”

Bert’s tone seemed to end the conversation, and the two rose to leave.

“I do like him ever so much,” said Louise as they went upstairs.

“Who? Me?” inquired Holly, running up behind them.

“Now don’t pull my hair, Holly, and don’t be silly. You should have heard Aunt Harriet go on about you to-night 1”

“I knew it!” exclaimed Holly, slapping Mont on the back. “I knew she would be scalping me! But of whom were you speaking?”

“Bert,” said Louise; “I do like him.”

“Bert,” replied Holly, “is a brick, a full-sized brick of the first quality and best baking!”

CHAPTER XVI

MILLIE’S BIRTHDAY DANCE

MRS. JENCKES and Millie were in consultation over the list of guests for the dance that Millie had been promised on her sixteenth birthday. All her special friends were, of course, to be included, besides others whom Mrs. Jenckes wished to invite because she herself was on terms of social intimacy with their parents. Millie had looked the list over with some annoyance.

“I do wish, mamma, we needn’t have all those Carpenter boys; there are three of them!”

“But, dear, the boys will be at home from school, and we could scarcely ask Fred without his cousins. And Louise has three brothers; you surely wish to ask them all?’’

“Oh, yes, of course, but they are different.. I suppose it doesn’t matter, mamma,—there will be so many,—but please, please don’t make me invite Helen Howard!”

“Millie, I don’t see how we can avoid it Mrs. Howard and I see so much of each other in our dub and charity work, that the omission would seem pointed. Besides, darling, I know that your father feels rather under obligation to Mr. Howard in the way of business this winter, and I am afraid we cannot omit Helen. Surely it will not spoil your pleasure; she will be only one of about fifty guests, and I cannot see how her coming can make you uncomfortable.”

“You don’t know how horribly Helen can behave! She is not nice, mamma; we all think so! You have no idea how she goes on with the boys; they do her lessons for her, and she’s always with them in the afternoons. Mrs. Howard goes out and tells Helen to practise, and the minute she is gone, Helen hangs a handkerchief in the sitting-room window, and the boys come in, and when Mrs. Howard is seen coming home, they go out by a side door!”

“My daughter,” said Mrs. Jenckes gravely, “are you sure of this?”

“Louise told me, mamma. When we were doing Latin together the other day, we heard Mont scolding Holly. Well, he wasn’t exactly scolding, because Mont is never cross, but he didn’t like it because Holly does Helen’s algebra for her. He gives her a copy of his problems every single day, so Helen always has correct work, though she can’t explain a problem to save her life. Holly wouldn’t listen to Mont, and soon they went away, and then Louise told me this. She says Holly goes there, and she doesn’t like it at all, and you know yourself, mamma, how he kissed her behind the scenes at the opera-house.”

“They are both of them very silly and foolish children. I do not think Mrs. Howard can have any idea of this.”

“I know she hasn’t, for Helen is terribly afraid she or Mr. Howard will find out. She has a regular code of signals from her window across to David Keith’s room. I suppose she will have to come, mamma, but she will not be nice,—just you see!” “Why, Millie, I am surprised! I can’t believe that a girl, brought up as Helen has been in a refined and sheltered home, can be guilty of such conduct!” “It is true, mamma; you can ask Louise! I haven’t exaggerated one bit. The boys all think she is perfectly fascinating; even Mont laughs at the things she says, and yet Louise said Mont would take her head off if she copied Helen!”

Mrs. Jenckes was really shocked at this outburst, but she knew that the judgment of school girls is often biased and always merciless. Helen was an exceedingly pretty and vivacious brunette, and it was not unlikely that her schoolmates were a little envious.

“lam sorry, dear, if it distresses you,” she said, after a few moments’ thought, “but I think Helen must have an invitation. I am certain she will behave like a lady that evening; she would scarcely dare do otherwise, when so many are present. And, daughter, I shall expect you to remember that you are hostess, and Helen must not in any way feel that her presence is unwelcome to you.”

Millie was not pleased, but she did not argue the matter. After all, it was a trifle, when in other respects she was to have things just as she chose. The two parlors and the long hall with their polished floors were just the place for dancing, and her father had promised the services of a little orchestra. There was to be a supper and a cotillion to end with. Moreover, being herself a valentine, Millie was always overwhelmed with gifts on the occasion.

Louise, of course, knew all about the plans and was extremely interested. One day, after the invitations were out, Mont, going in search of her, found her in her own room looking a little sober. Upon the bed were spread several dresses, and Louise, in her wrapper, sat in the rocking-chair regarding them.

“What’s up? Say, Pussy, will you mend this glove?”

“Yes, come in; I’ll do it now,’’ and Louise reached for her work-box. “Oh, I was just wondering what I should wear for Millie’s dance.”

“What’s the matter with the dress you wore in Boston for Ruth’s?”

“Nothing, only you see I wore it here all last winter, and everybody has seen it so often, and it is getting a little shabby. I didn’t mind in Boston because it was new to them all, and it is very pretty; but I do hate to wear it again for this.”

“What’s the matter with that thing there?” “What? That pink muslin? Look at it; the skirt is three different colors 1 Besides, it is too short. You see I didn’t have anything new this winter except my school dress. Mother thought, since none of us were going to dancing school, that I could get on nicely with my white one and the green that I had last year, for Sundays and dinner. But she never thought, you see, that I should go to anything quite as big as this dance of Millie’s. You boys are all right because you have your evening suits. I got out the two muslins I had last summer, but neither one is very nice now.”

Louise looked sober, and Mont put his hands in his pockets and whistled softly.

“Could you get a new one yourself?” he inquired.

“Yes, I pould,” said Louise doubtfully, “only I don’t know whether I ought to. I could buy it. I should just get a white muslin, for mother wouldn’t want me to have anything fussy, and Miss Hawkins would make it”

“How much would it cost?”

“I don’t know; probably ten or fifteen dollars, with what Miss Hawkins would charge,—perhaps more. I have money enough. When mother went away, she gave me twenty-five dollars. She said I would need shoes and hair ribbons, and it would be pleasanter not to ask Bert about such things. So I have it, if I was sure I ought to get a new dress. We have had so much snow that my boots have lasted longer than usual, and I have not lost a single hair ribbon this winter. What do you think about it?”

“Mother certainly didn’t expect you to wear twenty-five dollars’ worth of shoes! Why did she give you so much unless she thought you might need something she had not planned for? I think she would want you to get what you thought you needed.”

“I shouldn’t care, only I have worn my white crepe so much, and all the girls seem to be having new dresses for this. Millie has such a pretty blue one!”

“I should go ahead and get it I am sure mother gave you more than she thought you would need, just for an emergency like this. Why don’t you consult Miss Hawkins? And, Pussy, if it co6ts more than you expect you needn’t ask Bert, for I have some extra money, too.”

“Oh, thank you, Mont, but I am quite sure it won’t There’s your glove, and I am going to dress and go straight to see Miss Hawkins; she will know what to get and all about it.”

Louise looked very happy as she tossed over the glove, and hastened to make her visit to the dressmaker.

“You can’t think how nice Miss Hawkins wasl” she told her brother afterwards. “She was so interested and said she would go with me, and we chose the prettiest white muslin with little embroidered figures on it. We bought some lovely fine narrow lace to trim it with, and she is going to make it at once. She says she knows just what kind of a party dress mother would like me to have, and she will make it just as pretty as possible. I shall have some new hair ribbons, and Sarah says she can clean my white slippers so they will look like new.”

Louise was so pleased and happy that Mont smiled in return.

“That’s good, Pussy; I am sure it will be pretty 1 Now, remember, I’m to have one dance.”

“Yes, of course; I shall save one for Holly, too, and for Rob if he wants it.”

Miss Hawkins was as good as her word, and took infinite pains with the white muslin, apparently feeling that she must supply the interest and exquisite taste that Mrs. Gordon would have contributed had she been at home. Louise was delighted with the result.

She received numerous valentines when the eventful morning came, for she had many friends. Most were anonymous, and all were pretty, but in the course of the afternoon came two that pleased her greatly. One was left by a messenger, and when Louise opened the long box, she found half a dozen beautiful rosebuds, with a mysterious note.

“If you will be my valentine, please wear my roses to-night, and I shall come and ask for two dances, numbers one and five.”

It did not take Louise long to guess who sent the flowers. She liked Sidney, who was a manly, attractive fellow, and she knew that Mrs. Gordon had always welcomed him to the house and been willing that she should be with him. She laid away the little note and put the flowers in water without saying anything about them, but made mental reservation of those two dances.

The other valentine came in the mail at five, a long narrow box, containing the daintiest white fan that ever girl possessed. Louise was delighted, but she could not guess the sender. The address was type-written, and to add to the mystery, the box was marked, “Liberty, London.” She and the boys conjectured in vain, and Bert also wondered and admired, but when he had gone back to the office, he smiled at her pleasure and bewilderment. The fan had been purchased for quite another girl, and he had the previous day resurrected it from among other relics of a dead past. It had served its purpose now, and he was glad he had happened to remember its existence.

Just as she went to dress, Louise heard Holly call, and he came running up with some roses and maiden-hair fern.

“Mont and I got them for you, Pussy; will you wear them?”

“Of course I will, Holly! Aren’t they lovely? That is just dear of you boys!”

Louise was glad to see that these roses were exactly identical in kind with those of her valentine.

She would take three from each gift, and neither Sidney nor her brothers would know the difference. It was an innocent little deception, and there seemed no reason why she should explain to any one.

Both Sarah and Mary came to help her dress, and showed great admiration when the process was complete. Bert also expressed approval, and left his desk to see that she was warmly tucked into the sleigh and committed to the safe-keeping of Patrick, who was to drive her to Millie’s home. The boys had walked, but would reach there about the same time.

The rooms were filling when Louise came down. Mrs. Jenckes greeted her with a kiss and said softly, “I wish Mrs. Gordon could see how sweet her little daughter looks to-night,” while Millie instantly put into her dress the little blue enameled pin Louise had brought her. Millie had still to remain with her mother to receive the guests, so Louise joined Maude Kimball in a corner, where presently a group of young people gathered, each with a dance programme, seeking and engaging partners. There were several ladies and gentlemen seated about the rooms, and Mont, who had become shut into a corner, heard one lady, a complete stranger to him, remark to her companion,

“Do you see that little girl in the white embroidered muslin? I mean the one with the lovely dark hair and eyes. Isn’t she dear? I wonder who she is!”

Mont looked also, and mentally agreed that his sister would bear comparison with the other girls. The white dress was extremely pretty, yet simple and girlish. She wore no ornaments except the chain and pendant her uncle had given her, clasped about her slender throat, and was as fresh and sweet as the rosebuds she carried.

“Isn’t she charming!” agreed the second speaker. “She has a face like a flower. I must ask Mrs. Jenckes who she is.”

Mont with some difficulty extricated himself from his comer, and mindful of his programme, made his way to Louise and Maude.

Maude let him write his initials opposite two dances and the cotillion, and then he took Louise’s programme.

“Oh, Mont, the fifth is engaged!”

“No initials there, Pussy,” said her brother, scrutinizing the card.

“It’s taken just the same,” said Louise, laughing. “You may have the seventh.”

Mont looked at Maude a little mischievously, and proceeded to scribble his initials on his sister’s card.

She had turned, with a pretty, shy blush, to greet the tall lad who was coming toward her. Sidney looked first at her roses, and then, with a smile, at her as he said,

“I’m later than I meant to be. Hello, Mont! May I have your card, Louise? Maude, have you one for me, too?”

“Mont has my card,” said Louise, but when Sidney had engaged Maude for the lancers, she gave him her programme. Sidney asked no permission, but wrote S. B. M. opposite the first and fifth, and then looked at her. There were fifteen dances and the cotillion.

“This is mine, too?” he asked, with his pencil at the cotillion.

Louise nodded and Sidney’s face brightened. “Just in time; the orchestra is beginning!”

Sidney was a good dancer, and after the march, that ended in a waltz, Louise’s eyes were shining like stars. She was certainly to have a pleasant evening. Every number on her programme was taken except one that she had kept for Holly, who would surely come since he had given her flowers. When Mont came to claim his waltz, Louise was looking troubled.

“Mont,” she said softly in his ear, as her brother’s strong arm swept her into the dance, “do you know, Holly has danced every dance so far with Helen Howard, every single one, Mont, and this is the seventh 1 People are looking at them, and I think it is dreadful! Mother always said I must dance only twice with the same boy. Won’t you speak to Holly?”

“He’s a big idiot!”

“They are making themselves so conspicuous! I know Millie didn’t want Helen to come.”

“I’ll settle them. Is your next dance taken?”

“Yes, I’ve only one left, the ninth.”

“Keep it then, and I’ll make him come and dance it with you.”

Apparently Holly and Helen had no idea of entertaining any one but each other. They sat out the next dance, but just as the ninth was to begin, Mont appeared before them.

“Helen, will you give me the pleasure of this two-step? Holly, Louise is waiting for you; she has kept this dance for you, and it is the only one she has left”

Both were taken by surprise, for Mont’s tone was polite, but very decided, and almost before she realized it, Helen had risen and allowed him to whirl her into the dance, not ill-pleased on the whole, for quiet Mont had never before asked her to be his partner.

Louise said nothing to Holly till they had twice circled the room, and then she suddenly led him into the conservatory.

“Just a minute, Holly! You ought to dance with Millie; she’ll think you dreadfully rude if you don’t. And, Holly,—people are talking about you and Helen.”

“That’s not your business, Louise.”

His sister hesitated. It would be the worst thing possible to make Holly angry just now, and his eyes looked as if she must choose her words with care.

“Perhaps it isn’t. Only if Helen herself doesn’t know any better, you do. Won’t you please dance with Millie and some of the others?”

“I’ll see,” was all Holly would say, and Louise had to be satisfied.

Mont, however, had managed very skilfully. Among the young guests was a boy of his own age whom he knew slightly and Helen not at all. The last notes of the music found them near this lad, who did not seem to be dancing, and Mont asked permission to present him. Of course Stearns at once asked her to dance, and Mont went to claim his next partner with a wicked satisfaction in his eye. His little stratagem proved successful, for Holly, at last mindful of his duties to his hostess, had been granted half of one of Millie’s dances;—not very graciously, for both she and her mother had noticed-Helen and her partner. Indeed, Mrs. Jenckes had been on the point of interfering when Mont came to the rescue. Holly had not asked Helen for the cotillion, thinking she would keep it for him, and he was glad he had not when, at the end of his dance with Millie, Mrs. Jenckes came to him.

“Hollis, I am going to ask you to lead the cotillion with Millie. I expected my nephew in time for that, but he has been detained. You have led so often before that you won’t mind doing it on short notice. And now I want you to meet Mrs. Durant, who will tell you what figures we have planned and about the favors.”

Holly was really too much of a gentleman not to wish to redeem himself in the eyes of his hostess, and he followed at once.

“That is well done,” thought Mrs. Jenckes, and her next move was to be certain that Helen was provided with a partner for the cotillion. Helen was feeling disconcerted, for. Holly had not returned, and the boys were taking their cotillion partners out to the dining-room. Her mortification was complete when she saw him with Millie, and she was greatly relieved when Mrs. Jenckes came up with a young gentleman, and said pleasantly,

“Helen, do you know Mr. Horace Carpenter? This is Miss Howard, Horace. Mr. Carpenter has just run up from Bowdoin to visit his cousins, and was delayed by a train accident. Could you, by any chance, favor him with the cotillion?”

Mr. Carpenter, who was a dapper young Freshman, asked the favor for himself, and was promptly accepted. He offered her his arm at once and took her out to supper, proving so acceptable a cavalier, that Helen quite forgot Holly in her pleasure at the attentions of the only collegian present.

Holly entirely won Millie’s forgiveness, and redeemed Mrs. Jenckes’s good opinion by the admirable way in which he led the cotillion. He was an excellent dancer, and threw himself into the occasion with a spirit so contagious that every one else enjoyed it as much as he did. The spectators, friends of Mrs. Jenckes, and a few fathers who were beginning to drop in to play escort home, thought it an extremely pretty sight; the girls in their rainbow frocks and dainty slippers, with their attendant black shadows, and Holly’s bright head and pleasant voice in the midst of it all. There was not one of Millie’s guests who did not say most heartily that the evening had been a perfect one.

Mont went home with Maude, and Louise allowed Holly and Rob to come with her in the sleigh since it no longer mattered if her dress was crushed. She had a collection of favors pinned to its front, or hanging from her fan; little musical instruments, toys, and flowers.

“With whom did you dance the cotillion?” asked Holly sleepily. “Oh, Sid, I remember I Didn’t he look swell with all that shirt-front?”

“I danced every single dance, Sarah, and halved some of them!” said Louise happily, as Sarah opened the door for them, and followed Louise to her room to unfasten her dress.

“I hope you’ve not taken cold, deary, with your bare neck! ’’

“Oh, I haven’t indeed! It is cut so little low. See my favors!”

Sarah eyed the gimcracks without much interest. “I suppose you’ll be hanging them up in your room to catch the dust,” she remarked grimly. “Your flowers are faded!”

Yes, the flowers were faded, too much so ever to revive again; and after Sarah had gone, Louise laid them away in a box. Sometime she would tell her mother about them, but she would keep the withered rosebuds for a while, Sidney’s valentine, and her brothers’ flowers together.

CHAPTER XVII

THE STUDENT COMMITTEE AGAIN

MILLIE’S dance had one good result; it put a check on the foolish intimacy into which Holly had been drawn. Helen had been well pleased with her partner for the cotillion, and decided to punish Holly for his negligence, though it was really not his fault. Holly offered her his algebra problems as usual the next day, and Helen refused them. She never had another chance, for Holly was beginning to be ashamed of himself, and was glad of an excuse to withdraw. He let Helen so severely alone, that she repented and smiled again upon him. It was quite useless, and after a couple more attempts she was offended, and turned her attention to David Keith, who was quite willing to do her lessons for her. Helen had been severely criticized by the few High School girls who had been at Millie’s dance, for, with usual inconsistency, they did not blame Holly.

Louise did not say anything to him about it, but Mont took him to task with brotherly frankness.

“Why on earth,” he ended, “can’t you see die difference between a bom flirt like Helen, who simply can’t be genuine, and, and—Louise, for instance?”

Holly had really taken the lecture meekly, but at this he could not resist firing one shot “Or Maude.”

Mont reddened, but went on, “Yes, or Maude; she is as much of a lady as Louise.”

“Speaking of Louise, Sid was mighty attentive!”

“Yes, but in a perfectly proper way,—I’d lick him if he wasn’t! But if you hadn’t led the cotillion so well, you’d have lost your character with the house of Jenckes, so now! Mrs. J. had her eye on you! You came near being an ass!”

“Well, I know it! Cut out the rest!”

Mont had the sense to keep still after this admission, but he noted with satisfaction that Helen had apparently lost all attraction for his brother.

“This has been such a long week,” observed Louise on the following Thursday evening. “I can’t think, Millie, why your dance should have made it seem so, but I feel as if to-morrow should be Saturday. I don’t understand why.”

“That’s very simple,” replied Holly serenely. He and Sidney were playing chess. “It is because all the clean handkerchiefs have come up from the wash, nicely folded.”

This utterly irrelevant remark made Millie stare and Sidney chuckle, while Louise said thoughtfully as if to herself,

“I must remember to ask Bert what are the first symptoms of softening of the brain!”

“Oh, Pussy, you don’t feel that you are beginning to have it?” inquired Holly anxiously. “Do go ask Bert quickly if you feel it coming on. If he’s out I’ll telephone Dr. Chase to come over. We must lose no time with a thing like that!”

Sidney went into another fit of laughter, while Fluff, who had been sitting on the centre-table, suddenly jumped on the chess board, scattering the men right and left with both playful paws. Holly seized the kitten and began to sing softly:

“Oh, lovely Pussy,

Oh, Pussy my love!

What a beautiful Pussy you are!

You are,

You are!

What a beautiful Pussy you are!”

None of his laughing hearers knew whether the song was meant for Fluff or Louise. The game was pot aside, since the chessmen were too scattered to be replaced, and after a half-hour of fun, for Holly was in wild spirits, the visitors took leave. Sidney walked home with Millie, who seemed preoccupied. Just as they reached her gate, die suddenly exclaimed,

“You know that class-meeting that has been called for to-morrow before school? Louise hasn’t been told one thing about it! I found out accidentally that neither she nor Holly has been notified. Have they any right to hold a meeting without telling the whole class?”

Sidney seemed surprised. “That is queer! Who called the meeting?”

“The president, I suppose; didn’t you see the notice? Ellis Watson had signed it.”

“I didn’t think anything about it, but I cannot see why they were not notified. Did Louise feel hurt about it?”

“She didn’t notice when I spoke of it, and I was careful not to say any more.”

“Oh, well, it may be some business meeting where it isn’t necessary to have every one. I shouldn’t worry over it; we shall see in the morning. Good night, Millie!”

Sidney went off whistling, but he was genuinely puzzled. He saw no especial reason for having a class-meeting just then, and why Louise had not been notified was beyond his powers of conjecture. He could not imagine any reason for this omission, and gave the subject considerable thought.

The meeting was held in one of the recitation rooms at a quarter after eight, and it was evident to Sidney that some serious business was on hand, for the class officers were grave and even troubled. The reason for the meeting was stated at once. One of the class members had defied the school sentiment concerning cheating.

In an instant the whole thing was clear to Sidney. It was Helen Howard! Holly, and yes,— David Keith was not there,—they were implicated as having helped her, and Louise had been omitted, either to spare her feelings or because they could not notify her without telling Holly.

The president was very dignified as he reminded them how the previous winter the school had expressed itself very strongly upon the subject of cheating and cribbing. It was well known to all that one of their number was daily doing dishonorable school work, and for their class honor, something should be done about it. He would suggest that their first action should be merely to appoint a committee to warn the delinquent that the class would not endure further trespass of its unwritten law.

After a pause one of the girls said she thought the offender should be named.

“I think we all know without mentioning any names,” said the president, “but if any one does not, the person is Miss Howard. She is the one who has done the actual cheating, but there have been others who have made it possible by helping her, and I do not think they either are guiltless. We all know Hollis Gordon and David Keith give Miss Howard their work.”

“Mr. President!”

“Mr. Miller!”

“I wish to say I know positively that HoUy has. not done Miss Howard’s work for her for some time, and I am sure he doesn’t intend to again.”

“Thank you, Mr. MiUer, but there is no denying that he did help her in the past?”

“No, that’s true,” admitted Sidney reluctantly. He had never been one of Helen’s foUowers, but he was devoted to HoUy.

The class decided to choose a committee of three, to speak with Miss Howard and the two boys. They were authorized to tell them that if no further offence was committed, the matter would be completely dropped, but if Miss Howard continued to cheat and the others to help her, it would be reported to the student committee of the whole school.

It was a difficult matter to choose the committee. No one wished to serve, and the class finally had to vote amid a wave of amusement that no one should be excused. They chose Sidney, and he pleaded in vain to be let off; they stuck to their vote of no excuse. Sidney was in dead earnest, for Holly was his friend, and it meant more to him than the others realized. They were not thinking of Holly, but of Helen, and the fact that they must choose a committee who would be moved neither by smiles nor tears. Sidney was an excellent person to deal with Helen, and they would not release him. Stanley Green was next appointed, and as the third member, Joseph Read. To his great disgust, Sidney was elected chairman. It was a disagreeable task, and he gave it so much thought during the morning that his recitations were most erratic. The other members of the committee were dismayed at the prospect before them and agreed eagerly to Sidney’s proposition that they should speak to Keith and allow him to interview Gordon. Then they would all see Helen after school.

Sidney had it out with Holly during the long recess of twenty minutes, in a seldom used recitation room at the top of the building. The fun vanished from Holly’s eyes with Sidney’s first words, but he made no comment, and only grew paler as Sidney blundered on. Then he rose and started to go, still without a word.

“Holly!” burst out Sidney at this. “I couldn’t help it; I refused to be on the committee, but they would not let me off! I told them I knew you had not done it lately and that you would not again. I said every single thing I could for you, and I came myself to tell you, because I thought it wouldn’t hurt you so much to have me instead of the others!”

Holly was not proof against this. Angry and dismayed as he was, he was still reasonable enough to see that Sidney was in no way to blame and even that his friend had been kind. He would not speak, but he held out a hand that Sid was quick to grasp.

“It’s done now, and all over. You will never hear a syllable from any of us again, if you don’t help her, and I know you won’t!”

The bell rang for recitations to begin. Sidney looked with curiosity at David Keith, who was evidently more frightened than angry at the astonishing action of his classmates. Sidney was not at all concerned about him, but he was very sorry for Hollis, who sat the rest of the morning with an expressionless pale face, and confined his attention strictly to his books. In his sympathy for him, Sidney quite forgot that the most disagreeable part of all was still before them,—the interview with Helen.

Helen at first smiled graciously upon Sidney when he asked her to come into the Latin recitation room for a moment, but when she found the others there and knew their business, she stormed, wept, and, vowing she had never been so insulted in all her life, rushed off in a passion of angry tears.

Sidney felt that he had made a terrible mess of the matter, not realizing that nothing else could have been expected, and went home in such low spirits that his mother was worried. Sidney was an only son with two small sisters, and when their usually obliging big brother was not in the least interested in the cat’s new accomplishment of allowing herself to be wheeled in a baby-carriage, even their infant minds received the impression that something was wrong.

Certainly Sidney seemed much depressed, and when his mother was not successful in ascertaining the trouble, she mentioned it to Mr. Miller, who promptly asked Sidney if he had got into another scrape. The question hurt Sidney, for he and his father were usually good friends, but Mr. Miller had felt so keenly Sidney’s recent disgrace at school, that relations between them were still strained. On that occasion he had been so stem that Sidney had not since been able to get back to the old footing of confidence and affection. So the sharp question only drew a negative answer and Sidney presently went to his room, leaving his father with an uncomfortable impression that his son was not as frank and open with him as formerly.

The impression continued to occupy the mayor’s thoughts and he finally left his cigar and his cosy library, and himself went upstairs. Sidney’s door was ajar and he was sitting at his desk, staring moodily at a paper weight, hands in pockets. He looked up in surprise at his father’s entrance, and was still more taken aback when the mayor laid a hand on his shoulder and said in a tone he had not lately heard,

“Sid, my boy, I am beginning to think I was a trifle hard on you over that skating business. Now if anything really is wrong with you, let’s hear it, and I’ll do my best to understand and help you.”

Sidney’s changed face repaid the mayor for that speech. The old look of affection and respect came back at once, and he said gratefully,

“Thank you, father, but it isn’t anything wrong with me. Some one I care for has got into a scrape and I feel sorry about it.”

“Oh, so that is the trouble? Nothing I can help?”

“No, I wish you could,” said Sidney, taking a pencil from his father’s vest pocket. “That is a dandy pencil; you brought it for me, didn’t you?”

“Now you speak of it, I suppose I must have done so,” replied the mayor solemnly, and he went down again, while Sidney with a brighter face began his algebra problems with the newly acquired pencil.

It was quite impossible for Holly to conceal from the others that something had gone seriously wrong with him but he would not confide even in Mont. Poor Holly was perfectly amazed at this action on the part of his classmates. He had never given the matter of helping Helen more than a passing thought; certainly it had not added to his respect for her that she demanded his aid, but he had thought it her affair, not his. It had really never occurred to him that there was anything dishonorable in his giving her such assistance, and in his own work Holly was absolutely straightforward. Coming as it did so soon after the fight on the river and his disgrace in that connection, it seemed a terrible thing to him. Sorry as he had been about that, it cut deeper still to know that he had been considered dishonorable, and as such, discussed and condemned by his classmates.

Dr. Jennings, though accustomed to Holly’s mercurial temperament, noticed his dejection. On Saturday morning, when he started for his calls, he was glad to find Holly in the sleigh.

“Ah, so I am to have you for coachman; that’s pleasant! Elmwood Avenue first, the Stoddard place.”

“How is Phoebe?”

“Doing nicely now; I am much pleased with her progress.”

Holly said nothing more, for Fan was skittish and he was engaged in steering her safely through a tangle of car-tracks.

Nor did he speak when Bert came out from the Stoddard house and gave his next direction.

“Now for a drive to the other side of town,” said Dr. Jennings when they had made a number of calls. “I am due at a consultation at noon on Fisher Street, number 118; I don’t know the house.”

It was at least a half hour’s drive, and presently Bert said gently,

“Don’t you want to tell me what the trouble is, Holly? I see something is decidedly wrong with you. Perhaps it won’t seem quite so hopeless to me.

“It is too bad to tell,” said Holly after a while.

*’ No, I am sure it isn’t. Let’s have it in confidence.”

It was a relief to confide in any one as sympathetic as Dr. Jennings, and Hollis told the whole unfortunate affair very honestly without sparing himself in the least. Bert was sorry, for he saw that Holly’s self-respect was deeply wounded.

“That is rather stiff,” he said at last. “I think, however, the class did not mean their action to be taken quite as you have interpreted it, Holly. They meant no unkindness. Their action seems chiefly against this girl whoever she is. I know you would not have done it had you realized that you also were being dishonorable, but it is never right, is it, to help some one else do wrong? We must rather try to help those who are weaker than ourselves to avoid temptation, not make it easier for them. You would not have cheated for yourself, you know.”

Holly made no answer.

“I am glad you had stopped of your own free will, because of course this cannot hurt you as deeply as it otherwise would. As far as I see, you will never hear anything further about it, and I wouldn’t take the matter so seriously to heart Was this girl one of Louise’s friends? No? I’m glad of that. Cheer up, now, and don’t allow yourself to be discouraged. People are always getting hard knocks in this world, and for most of us it is up again and take another. We are fortunate if we get only those we deserve. I hope you haven’t let off any steam on Sidney, for it seems to me he had a hard part to play.”

Holly shook his head.

“I’m glad of that. Cheer up, now; it is for you to make it a closed incident forever. I think that must be the house, for there is Dr. Chase’s sleigh.”

It was not an attractive street nor a pleasant house to which Bert had been summoned. Holly nodded to Dr. Chase’s colored driver, and began to walk Fan slowly up and down. He had time to do considerable thinking before Bert came out. The clocks of the city were striking one as they started back.

“Home now, Holly! We shall be very late for lunch.”

“Is some one terribly ill there?”

“Yes, one of Dr. Chase’s patients, but I think he will pull through. Still I wish your father could see him.”

Bert had given his companion a keen glance and was satisfied that Holly was feeling happier.

Louise met them in the hall. “We’ve had the loveliest letter from mother, written in Rome; I’ll read it to you while you have lunch, for we are through. And, Holly, there is a separate one for you from father, marked ‘ personal.’”

Holly put it into his pocket. He knew it must be the answer to the one he had written after the trouble on the river. He did not open it till he had finished lunch and locked himself into his room. After reading it, he put his head down on the desk for a while. There were enclosures from both father and mother, and Mrs. Gordon’s letter was a loving one, while the doctor’s contained little censure. Yet Holly could not resist a smile of affectionate amusement over his father’s note, for it bore every mark of having been written as a disagreeable duty. It was not in Dr. Gordon’s easy-going nature to sit down and deliberately write a serious reproof to one of his children. He might, and did, when occasion required, summon the culprit to his office, and in a burst of righteous indignation, astonish the offender by what apparently was an unmerciful lecture. Mont and Rob, who did not resemble their father in temperament, were sometimes startled into thinking the doctor severe in his dealings with them, but Holly, who brought upon himself more frequent interviews, was never for one moment deceived. He was quite correct in his secret opinion that his mother was the real disciplinarian of the family, and would await with sinful interest the moment when the doctor’s wrath should sputter into silence and end in a whimsical appeal of “Sonny, why don’t you behave?”

Boiled down thoroughly, this was all the doctor’s tempestuous lectures ever amounted to, and the tone of helpless bewilderment in which the inquiry was made, invariably appealed to Holly’s keen sense of the ludicrous as well as to his affection. Dr. Gordon rather flattered himself on being strict with Hollis, who was supposed to be in need of sterner discipline than the others, but the doctor would have been honestly surprised had he fully realized that all the obedience he ever obtained from this laughing will-o’-the-wisp son, was yielded wholly because the boy loved him.

To-day Holly had the reproof without his father’s puzzled tone, and lovable boyish way of rumpling his hair in perplexity, nor could the interview be ended with the hug before which the soft-hearted doctor invariably capitulated. His head was still on his desk, when some one ran upstairs and knocked.

“Who is it?”

“Sid,” was the breathless answer.

Holly unlocked the door rather unwillingly. He was in no mood for callers.

“Well, I have had a time this morning!” said his visitor, who looked wild and dishevelled, and who flung himself on the window-seat in a state of limp exhaustion. “Great Scott, Holly! I tell you I’ve been through the war!”

“What’s up?” inquired Holly with sane interest.

“This morning about ten,” began Sidney dramatically, “the telephone bell rang, and one of father’s clerks said I was wanted at once, just as soon as I could get there. So I perambulated down town, and they told me to go into the private office. I sailed in serenely, wondering What was up, and there sat my pater, looking rather wild, and—Mr. and Mrs. Howard!”

“Great Scott!” exclaimed Holly.

“Yes, wouldn’t that make you sit up? Mrs. Howard had been crying, and the pater was as nervous as a witch. It seems that Helen went home and told her mother I had insulted her,— hence this interview!”

“Crickets! Wasn’t your father mad?”

“I think he would have been, only last night, he and I came to a slight understanding, so he was prepared to hear my side of the story if I had one. Holly, I thought I’d melt into the carpet!”

Sidney fanned himself as if still faint “Well, the pater came down on me feet first, and what could I do? I simply had to tell the truth. I didn’t dare do anything else, but I can tell you it was no joke. Mrs. Howard cried, and Mr. Howard was so white and angry, and the pater was so uncomfortable, and as for me—words can’t express my feelings! I didn’t mention you by name, but all the rest had to come out. Mrs. Howard was in such a state when I finished, and the poor pater didn’t know what to do, between relief at hearing that I wasn’t as depraved as I was reported, and sympathy for them. When I did get through, Mr. Howard said,

“’ I beg your pardon, Sidney, for thinking you could have insulted any girl. I want to ask you one question only.’

“So then I pulled myself together, and he asked, oh, you can’t think how sadly!

“‘ Is it true that Helen has habitually received the boys in her mother’s absence from home? ’

“I felt just awfully, Holly, but I didn’t dare tell anything but the truth, so I said yes, and then said I’d never been there but once myself, and then I didn’t know it was against Mrs. Howard’s wishes.

“Just then the pater broke in, and I could have laughed if it hadn’t all been so sort of tragic. * Sid,’ said he, ‘ if you ever call on a girl again unless her mother knows it, I’ll trounce you; I vow I will! ’

“His bursting out so really was comical, but I couldn’t laugh when they felt so badly. Mr. Howard looked so white and hurt, and then he took Mrs. Howard’s hand, and said, * Come, Marion, let’s go home.’ She pulled down her veil, and he shook hands with the pater and me, and they went out without another word.

“Great Scott! didn’t the pater tear up the earth after they wentl ’If his daughters,’ etc.! etc.! Oh, but it is too bad, Holly! they felt so terribly! Evidently Mrs. Howard had no idea of the things Helen had done, or of how she had cheated! The pater said we ought not to have done what we did; that some of the girls should have gone quietly to Mrs. Howard and asked her to speak to Helen. We had made a set of asses of ourselves, and the biggest one of all was the spokesman, yours truly, of course! Then he whopped right around, and said of course I couldn’t help myself, and he was sure I did it as well as I could, only it ought never to have been done. It would have been better to speak to the mater, and ask her to go to Mrs. Howard; anything but what we did do! Then he said the boys that went there all ought to be licked, and he’d make a beginning with me, only I hadn’t known it was forbidden. I did laugh at that, and he said, * There, I’m busy! Ring the bell and tell the clerk to put you into the street! ’ But I wouldn’t go till I found out what he really did think about it; and finally he said he didn’t suppose we were to Marne, that boys were all thoughtless, and he had never seen one who wasn’t, or who was blessed with any common sense whatever, except himself when he was young, and Montrose Gordon. You can pat yourself on the back, Holly; he is your brother! He said no one but Helen was really to blame, for she had encouraged them, and she alone knew how she was deceiving her parents. The boys should have known better, but Helen was the chief sinner. Now, I’ve told you all this, Holly, because I thought you had a kind of right to know, but I honestly believe the pater would wallop me, if the story got out through me!”

“I shall never tell,” said Holly thoughtfully; “I’ve learned my lesson too, Sid.”

“Yes, old fellow, I thought about you awfully hard last night,” said his friend sympathetically.

“I asked the pater what he thought they would do with Helen, and he said he couldn’t tell. If she was his daughter she’d find herself in the strictest kind of a boarding-school before she knew what was happening to her, and she might think herself lucky she didn’t happen to be his son!” laughed Sidney. “Then he rang his bell, and told the cleric who came, to show me out, so I had to skip. But isn’t the whole thing fierce?”

“I think it is. I wonder if the class really had a right to do that?”

“The pater thought not, but he upheld the student committee when it tackled you and me. I wonder if they did exceed their rights. I know they didn’t mean it unkindly, and Helen cheated frightfully all last year as well as this. It seems to me she has only herself to blame, for she knew how we all felt.”

Holly’s face was very moody, and Sidney felt sorry.

“Think how she cribbed her Latin right along I That she got from a pony, we all knew, and the same with Greek. It is only lately you have helped her with mathematics, Holly, and if she had always had as decent chaps as you at die house, no one could have kicked.”

Oh, I know it is not all, nor in any great part my fault,” said Holly, rousing himself from his dejection. “I never said or did a single thing there that I would not have been willing Helen’s mother, or my own, should know. I did make a fool of myself at the opera-house, but everybody knew it; there was no secret about that public performance! I really feel sorry for Helen, but I know very well that it would have been somebody else if it had not been I, and my share of it has been only since Christmas.”

“I know it, Holly; truly you aren’t as much to blame as you think! But consider my feelings!” went on Sidney. “Here I had to tell the whole thing! It was twisted out of me, when I couldn’t help myself,” he ended with a comic gesture of despair.

“But no one will know, unless Helen herself tells.”

“That is so. The whole thing is ended unless she tells, and it is finished, anyway, as far as everyone but Helen is concerned. Hello, Fluff! do you come up here?”

“He conies anywhere he likes,” said Holly, eyeing the intruder. “I often find him on my bed. He thinks he owns die house, and everything in it, the wretch! Louise had a white cat once, and Mont and I colored it red with Diamond dyes. It didn’t wear off for months and went through all stages of dingy pink.”

“How did Louise like it?”

“She didn’t like it at all. Mother also made remarks to us about that cat Well, Sid, let’s go down!”

“Shall Fluff stay?”

“No, bring him too.”

Sidney took the purring beauty and they went down. Louise heard their steps and came into the hall.

“Good afternoon, Sidney! I was just looking for some one to help pull candy. I promised to make some for the sale to-night, and I have cooked more than I can manage by myself. Don’t you both want to help?”

Sidney assented at once, and Holly also acquiesced.

“Naughty Fluffy, where have you been? Put him in the sitting-room, Sidney; he can’t come into the kitchen because he will get hairs in the candy.” “Hairs are healthful,” observed Sidney, as he left Fluff on the sofa. “Orders are to shunt you here, so lie down and be easy.”

The candy was ready to pull, and the three were quickly busy. Louise and Sidney soon had theirs under control, but Holly made a dreadful mess of his. Louise did not notice till he remarked pensively,

“It seems to me molasses is not what it used to be when I was young/’

Sidney gave a howl, for Holly held up his hands embedded in a sticky and unmanageable mass which he was regarding in ludicrous perplexity.

“Now, Holly, I didn’t think you would make such a mess of it! Do keep your hands over the pan. Sarah’U have a fit if you get it on the floor!”

“People who spill molasses are certainly not wanted on earth and probably not in heaven,” observed her brother, contemplating his hands and spreading his fingers as far as the sticky concoction would permit.

“Oh my!” exclaimed Louise. “Could you take mine, too, Sidney? Thank you. Now, Holly, wait till I get a knife!”

Louise’s opening the pantry door, made the swinging door into the dining-room move slightly with the draught. A gray nose and paw appeared, found the door would yield and Fluff invaded the kitchen, promptly jumping on the table.

“Here now, get out!” exclaimed Holly, trying to elbow him off. “For goodness’ sake, Sid, do take this beast! Beautiful pussy, keep out of the candy. Don’t stick your tail in it!”

Sidney was helpless with laughter and his hands were full of candy. He could give no assistance, and Louise, looking for a palette knife, did not hear. Holly, much amused, began to sing,

The owl and the pussy cat went to sea,

With a nice tin pan for a boat,

They took some molasses and plenty of honey,

Wrapped up in a sealskin coat”

Sarah suddenly appeared in the hall door, and Holly broke off,

“Sarah, do remove this friendly beast!”

Poor Fluff was ignominiously shut out. Sarah regarded the laughing boys grimly.

“I haven’t spilled any, you know, Sarah, and it is only myself I have stuck. But seriously, Sarah, do you think that molasses is what it used to be when we were young?”

“No,” said Sarah, “and no more are boys, or manners or much of anything for that matter!”

Louise returned with the knife and Sarah departed as silently as she came. One hand released, Holly began to suck his fingers in the most ridiculous manner.

“I can’t think why yours acted so,” said Louise as she scraped the fingers of the other hand. “Did you butter your hands?”

“No, miss, you only told me to wash them.”

Louise was too glad to see Holly in better spirits to offer any reproof.

“Now, wash them again,” she said in a most maternal manner, “and butter them this time. I’ll take this now, and you can pull with Sidney.”

“I understood that soap was a good lubricant,” observed her brother. “It didn’t seem to work specially well”

This time things went much better. The boys pulled till the candy was too hard even for them, and was beautifully white. They cut it into pieces and pulled Louise’s portion till it was of the same shade and texture.

Sidney stayed till dusk to play cards. As he ran down the steps, a passing sleigh drew up and his father called him.

“Here, get in! Now, young man, on whom were you calling there; Louise or her brothers?” he asked, as the sleigh started.

“Holly,” said Sidney in some amusement “That’s right; always call on a girl’s brothers! But seriously, Sidney, Louise is the sweetest little girl I know, and I know more than you think I do. Don’t you dare to behave so she won’t let you call on her brothers!”

“I’m not likely to,” said his son. “Oh, you have the new horse 1 Let me drive?”

“Yes, and have my neck broken? You young people are all in league to get rid of the previous generation. There, upset me if you must, but let it be in a soft spot if you can find one.”

“You choose the spot, and let me know when we reach it, and I will try to accommodate you!” said his dutiful son.

CHAPTER XVIII

A TALK WITH MILLIE’S MOTHER

HELEN was not at school on Monday, and Louise was perhaps the only member of the sophomore class who did not notice her absence. Sidney and Holly alone knew exactly what had been the sequel of that class-meeting, and both carefully kept their own counsel.

Helen’s vacant seat on Tuesday caused more comment, especially since her desk was found to be empty. This set every one talking, and before long Louise heard about the class-meeting and its action. She was very much disturbed on Holly’s account, and rather indignant. Mont also heard the whole story, and for once was seriously out of patience with his brother. Strange to say, it was Rob who was most tolerant and said least on this occasion. Holly took the comments of the others very quietly and made no reply, until Mont, in genuine indignation at his indifference, waxed sarcastic.

He stopped in the middle of his sentence, for Holly, looking up with a flash in his eyes, said calmly,

“I am sorry it has never entered your head, Mont, that possibly I do care what a fool I have been!”

Mont stalked out without another word, and Holly continued to sketch on the margins of his Caesar. Louise put on her coat and hat and went to see Millie. Mrs. Jenckes had just come in from a drive, and Millie was telling her the latest news about Helen’s removal from school. Both girls were vehement in their condemnation of her, but Mrs. Jenckes listened in silence till they seemed to have finished.

“Oh, girls,” she said at last, “doesn’t it seem to you that Helen is to be pitied rather than condemned so severely? And think how her parents feel! Mrs. Howard never dreamed how her little daughter was deceiving her. For my part I only pity them all, and I am grieved that neither my Millie nor Louise has any charity for Helen.”

Louise looked ashamed, and Millie exclaimed, “Oh, mamma!”

“I have seen Mrs. Howard,” went on Mrs. Jenckes. “She is almost heartbroken. Helen’s father is very angry; she is to be sent immediately to boarding-school. He will not consent to her staying at home, and Mrs. Howard is really ill over the matter.”

“I should think,” said Louise, “that would be easier for Helen than coming bade to school.”

“It seems to me, if she were my daughter, I should want to keep her safe within reach of my own love, and try, oh, so hard, to give her another chance!”

Millie jumped up hastily, kissed her mother, and then sat on her lap.

“Mrs. Jendces, do you think the class had any right to treat Hden so?”

“They had a right, Louise, and I think they meant it all as it should be, and in a way, it was kindly done. As I understand, Sidney only asked her not to cheat any more, and said if she did they would have to report it to the student committee. I do not see that there is anything to be criticized in that. It was Helen’s own conduct that was the disgrace, and the deceit was not only at school, but also at home. I wish you would think, girls, what dreadful grief her thoughtlessness has brought on her father and mother. And in many ways, Helen is attractive and has good qualities. She is bright and sweet-tempered.”

“Yes, and she is very obliging and generous,” said Louise.

“Nobody ever saw Helen cross, and she is so pretty t” added Millie.

“Helen has so many good points when you try to think of them, that it seems a pity utterly to condemn her. She is going away now, to a new place with a new chance before her, and she may be a very different girl when she comes home again. I feel sure she must try. And I hope neither one of you will criticize her any more, nor speak of her except it be kindly and sympathetically. We all have so many faults and make so many mistakes ourselves, that we must be slow to judge.”

“Well, mamma! I think you’d better come and talk to the whole sophomore class! If they have been judging at the rate Louise and I have, they all need it!”

Mrs. Jenckes smiled. “If these two members of the class will set the example of sympathy, my little sermon will not have been useless. It’s the most natural thing in the world to condemn an acknowledged offender, but perhaps all the while, the poor culprit may be desperately in need of a helping hand. Love is a far greater master than severity.”

“I believe it has been chiefly the girls, mamma. The boys haven’t said much, or if they have, we have not known it”

“I believe it has been the girls,” agreed Louise. “Mont said he was sorry for Helen. But it seems to me we feel her disgrace more keenly than they do; I don’t know just why.”

“Helen has violated some of the instincts of true womanhood, Louise, and you girls perceive that, while the boys do not.”

“I don’t mean to say it unkindly,” said Millie thoughtfully, “but Helen was dreadfully silly over the boys.”

“Helen has the disadvantage of being an only child, like my chicken here. A girl who grows up with her brothers, as Louise is fortunate enough to do, has a much truer idea of the value and position of boys as members of society.”

“Fearfully tormenting at times!” said Louise laughing.

“Very convenient at others,” smiled Mrs. Jendces.

“Yes,” admitted Louise, “they are a worry and a nuisance sometimes, but then they are dear and funny, even if they are provoking. I must admit I just love to feel they can’t get on as well without me. I hope mother will think I have done as she expected me to this winter! I really have tried to make things happy and pleasant for the boys.”

“I think you have succeeded wonderfully well,

Louise dear. Only the other day, Mr. Jenckes and I were speaking of how contented your brothers are to spend their evenings at home. Sometimes, you know, boys of that age want to be out.”

“They are awfully good about that, and they almost always tell me where they are going if they are not at home. Not that I ask them, or that it would make any difference, but they somehow do tell me.”

“Somebody says,” went on Mrs. Jenckes merrily, “that any woman who successfully brings up three boys, deserves a crown of martyrdom! I must confess I would have liked the chance.” “Not boys instead of me, mamma!”

“Oh, you too, of course! But wouldn’t it be nice to have some brothers?”

Millie considered. “Yes, I’d like a big grown-up one, who would take me to the theatre, and to dances, and buy me everything you and papa wouldn’t!”

“Shocking!” exclaimed Mrs. Jenckes. “If he did all that, I should certainly have failed in bringing him up properly!”

“That’s all a big brother is good for,” said the laughing Millie. “Then I’d like a cunning, cunning baby brother, about a year old, with two teeth and a dimple. But a baby sister would do just as well,—yes, a little better, for she would have curly hair, and I could make her dresses!”

“Oh, wouldn’t that be lovely!” exclaimed Louise. “How I would like one too! I would have her all for mine, have her crib in my room and take her in bed with me every morning!”

“Oh, you funny, funny girls!” laughed Mrs. Jenckes.

“Babies are so dear,” said Louise, eagerly. “I always want to squeeze them. It seems to me it would be the loveliest thing in the world to have a baby sister!”

“Mamma, let’s have one! Let’s get one from the orphan asylum; why can’t we?”

“Oh, honey, your father wouldn’t think it best! It is a very great responsibility to adopt a child.”

“I’d take care of it half the time,” declared Louise.

“It wouldn’t be practicable, dear girls. All you can do is to choose some baby there and make clothes for it if you like.”

“Yes, but that isn’t really having it to squeeze and love,” said Louise.

“Babies grow up, and must be fed, and clothed and educated as well as squeezed and loved.”

“Oh, mummy, you are too shockingly practical!

The squeezing and loving is much more important!”

“Is it? Then I needn’t order any dinner for Millie to-night, nor take any further trouble about that hat she doesn’t like, since I have let her sit on my lap till my knees ache?”

“Oh, do they? I am growing heavy, I know! I’ll sit on the hassock now! But, mamma, why should a woman be a martyr because she has brought up three boys?”

“Because it requires the patience of a saint, I suppose,” said Mrs. Jenckes laughing again. “Surely Louise’s mother doesn’t appear like a martyr! It is merely a figure of speech, Millie.”

“And she has brought me up in addition to three boys!”

“I am after information,” said Millie, “so I may know whether to choose a baby brother or sister. Are boys more bother than girls?”

“They make more noise,” replied her mother, “and from my recollections of my own brothers, they need just as much love as little girls, and much more patience. Isn’t that so, Louise?”

“I don’t know,” said Louise thoughtfully. “I guess I used to try mother’s patience, too. Holly and I were worse than either Mont or Rob. Mont was a model baby from all I’ve ever heard, but Holly and I turned the house upside down. Holly was the cunningest baby! Have you ever seen the pictures of him, Mrs. Jenckes? They are just dear; ever so much more cunning than mine.”

“Yes, I have seen them, but you know I remember you all when you were little. You four were a very dear set of babies, and Mrs. Gordon was a far wiser mother than I, I fear. But I had only one baby to spoil, and she had four she didn’t want to spoil! I used to think her nursery rules rather strict sometimes, but there was the wisest kind of love in them and the little people learned early to respect each other’s rights. Holly was indeed a darling baby, but he was very mischievous as well; he was always doing things the rest of you never thought of.”

“He has kept that up ever since. We always expect Holly to do the unexpected. Mother says,” Louise went on laughing, “that once when we were all little, she was going to punish Holly for something, and he said to her very sweetly, “See the trees; aren’t they pretty? ’”

Mrs. Jenckes laughed. “I can easily imagine it, but I have an idea your mother didn’t let her amusement interfere with her discipline.”

“I have made up my mind, mamma,” said Mil lie. “We will have a little sister. Unless we could arrive at a compromise about the little brother! If I could have him all the time he was good —”

“And turn him over to me when he was in need of discipline? Millie, I think if we have any, it will be the baby sister!”

“I must go,” said Louise, laughing and rising from the window-seat. “Mrs. Jenckes, I was so cross when I came over here, and so angry with Helen and Holly, too, but you have made me feel quite differently about it. Holly does feel sorry; I knew it all the while, only I was provoked with him. I will never say another unkind thing about Helen, for perhaps it isn’t all her fault.”

Mrs. Jenckes looked puzzled. Was Louise referring to her brother’s part in the affair?

“Millie and I don’t have secrets from our mothers,” went on Louise, with a pretty blush. “Perhaps it would have been different if Helen was better friends with her mother.”

“My dear Louise, I feel sure that has a great deal to do with it!”

Next day, everyone at school knew that Helen Howard was not coming bade, and that she was going to a boarding-school near Boston. It caused a good deal of talk for a time, but after a few days something else came up, and Helen and her troubles became past history.

“Mont, have you seen Maude lately?” asked Louise on Sunday evening at tea. “She wasn’t at school Friday, and Elsie said she wasn’t well.”

“No, I haven’t,” replied her brother. “I telephoned yesterday to see if she wanted to skate, and her mother said she wasn’t feeling just right, but she didn’t speak as if it was anything serious.”

“Mrs. Kimball sent for me this morning,” said Bert. “Maude has some rather feverish symptoms, but nothing definite as yet. By the way, Mont, I had a message for you. I am very forgetful; it had completely slipped my mind. Here’s a note Maude asked me to give you.”

Mont looked much disconcerted as he read it. He often went with Maude to the Christian Endeavor meetings at her church, for she was one of its most active members. The note requested him to see the president of the society and tell him that she would be unable to fulfil her promise of leading the meeting that evening, and ask him to find a substitute. She could not reach him by telephone, and to ask Mont seemed the easiest way. There would have been plenty of time for Mont to attend to it, had Bert not forgotten the note. As matters were, it was now only three-quarters of an hour before the meeting would assemble, and Mr. Burroughs, the president, lived some distance away.

“Well, I have put my foot in it 1” said Bert as this state of affairs came out “I’m tremendously sorry, Mont; I’d kick myself if it would do any good. I see but one thing for you to do now.”

“What’s that?” inquired Mont, who saw no way out of the tangle.

“Be Maude’s substitute yourself.”

“Why, I don’t belong to the society; I don’t even go to that church.”

“True, but you know many of the members, and you have been there often with Maude. They would understand how it was, and I really see nothing else you can do.”

“Imagine me conducting a meeting on a subject I didn’t know anything about, and hadn’t prepared for!”

“What is the subject?”

“True charity.”

“Mont, that is easy; you could do it, I know, even if it had to be extemporaneous. Anyway, be off quickly to see whatever person you ought to tell.”

Holly thought it a huge joke, and volunteered to go also, but Mont refused in so disturbed a manner that Bert, as he seldom did, interfered.

“You’d only rattle him, Holly; keep away!”

“I don’t see why somebody doesn’t take me to Christian Endeavor meetings!”

“You don’t even go to meetings at your own church,” said Louise.

“They are too poky; these seem to be more interesting. I’m going to ask Maude if she won’t take me!”

Holly expected to strike fire with this remark, but Mont paid no attention, left his tea half-finished, and hurried off.

“Rob, let’s go, too,” said Holly, after Bert had gone. “If he is going to lead that meeting, I think his affectionate family ought to lend the support of their presence.”

“He would never forgive you,” said Louise, though she had no fear that Rob would assent.

“Oh, yes, he would get over it when he understood our motives. You don’t seem to appreciate how kind they are, Pussy. I will join in the singing:

“* Ten thousand times ten thousand,

In furry garments tight,

The armies of the hungry rats Swarm up the water pipe.*”

“Holly, stop it!” exclaimed the horrified Louise. “That is a hymn, and mother said it was wicked to make parodies —”

“Is it a hymn? I knew the tune was, but I was inventing the words. What makes it a hymn then?”

“It isn’t right to make a joke of sacred things.” “I didn’t know rats were. I have heard of sacred pigs.”

Without waiting for an answer, Holly went on, bent on provoking her.

“’ Me feyther and mither were Irish,

So I was Irish, too,

We kept the pig in the parlor,

And that was Irish, tool Rob laughed and after a little Louise smiled.

“I do wish you would be sensible, Holly. You can be, you know.”

“Can’t I, though!” assented Holly sweetly. “Just think how sensible I was all day to-morrow! Come along, Rob!”

“Not for me.”

“Then I’ll get Sid to go.”

“Holly, Bert told you not to!”

“I think it is a pretty state of affairs when a fellow can’t go to a Christian Endeavor meeting! I declare I’U report it to the S. P. C. K. I will!”

“I suppose you mean the S. P. C. C.” remarked Louise.

“Whatever the alphabet is!” laughed her brother. “But Sid will go; he’s always ready for instruction. I want to hear about that charity business.” Louise was annoyed, but she said nothing, and waited till Holly had left the house. Then she hurried to the telephone. Rob, in the sitting-room, could not hear, and she was successful in getting the Miller house almost immediately. A servant answered the ring, but’Sidney came at once.

“Sidney? This is Louise Gordon. Holly has started to ask you to go to the Christian Endeavor meeting at the Congregational church. Please don’t go with him, but make him stay with you. I’ll tell you why another time, but don’t let him go, and don’t tell him I said anything to you about it.” “All right,” came Sidney’s voice. “Orders noted and will be executed. Little Holly stops right here till nine o’clock.”

Louise rang off, feeling relieved. If Mont did have to substitute for Maude, it would certainly trouble him to have his teasing brother present, and in any case, Louise did not think the Christian En-deavorers would derive any profit from Holly’s company that evening.

She then called up the Kimballs and inquired for Maude. Mrs. Kimball herself came to the ’phone and said that Maude was quite unwell, feverish and listless, and they were feeling troubled about her. Would Louise kindly ask Dr. Jennings to come there among his first visits in the morning?

Louise sent a message of love to Maude and told Mrs. Kimball that Mont was seeing about the meeting. She hung up the receiver with a little prayer that Maude might not be seriously ill.

Mont did not come in till nine, and then flung himself into a big chair with the air of one who has completed a hard task.

“Well, I did it, Pussy!”

“Good for you! Was it very difficult?”

“Rather. They were quite upset, of course, for they had not known Maude was ill, and no one was prepared. The president was not there at all, and they seemed very much relieved when I said it was my fault because I didn’t get the note in time to see to it, and I would tty to substitute if they cared to have me. They were very nice about it, and we had a lot of hymns, and they did seem interested. I don’t think I made a great mess of it, because they listened. You know mother once talked to us about being charitable to other people, and I remembered some of that, and other things occurred to me. It was good practice, anyway, for the debating society, and it turned out well enough, and I am not sorry I did it”

“I’m very glad you did, Mont,” said Louise thoughtfully.

“So am I,” replied her brother, not thinking that the time might come when he would be glad to remember the smallest service he had ever done for Maude.

“Was Holly there?”

“Holly? No. He wouldn’t go after Bert told him not to.”

Louise was inclined to think that Sidney, not Bert, was at the bottom of Holly’s good behavior, but she did not betray herself. Presently Holly returned, in a quieter mood. He did not ask any questions about the meeting, and only remarked,

“Mr. Miller has a new billiard-table; a dandy one. Sid and I are going to play to-morrow.”

“Father promised us a pool-table this winter,” said Rob. “Don’t you remember, he said he would give it to us together, for Christmas?”

“So he did,” said Mont, “but, of course, he went away in November. We’ll have it some time, though, for he did promise it.”

“Sid says it is dandy coasting on Walden Hill. We are going to rig a double-runner to-morrow morning, and celebrate Washington’s birthday.”

“We have only one decent sled.”

“Sid has one, and his uncle showed him how to fix the steering gear so it will answer to a touch.

The hill is fine; there has been just the right kind of snow, and we think we can cross the river.

“I’m afraid you will get hurt,” said Louise. “Walden Hill is dangerous.”

“Not if you are careful. Are there any apples? I am nearly starved.”

Louise and Millie started the next morning to do an errand for Mrs. Jenckes. At the corner of Summer Street they met Sidney coming with the sled that was to form a part of the double-runner. He greeted them cheerily, and stopped to talk a few minutes, so Louise had an opportunity to explain her mysterious telephone message. Sidney was amused.

“Come home by the way of Walden Street,” he called after them, “and we will take you down on the double-runner if it is done.”

“All right!” replied Louise, but Millie declared that nothing could induce her to slide on Walden Hill.

Louise had a plan to surprise her mother by recovering some of the sofa cushions in the sitting-room, and the girls discussed various schemes for their decoration. Louise decided to stencil two or three.

“Holly said he would make the designs, and perhaps if he gets really interested he may do more. I rather expect he will cut the stencils when he is once started, and the rest is easy, you know.”

“I don’t see how you have time to do so much,” said Millie.

“Oh, I do it at odd moments. I have heaps of stockings to mend every week, but only Rob wears very bad holes; the others don’t, so I get some chance to do other things.”

“I can’t see how you manage,” remarked Millie, for she knew that Louise had many more household duties than she herself; that she made her own bed, and took all the care of her room, except its weekly sweeping, and did more or less daily dusting, for Mary, with the offices of two doctors to keep in order, was at times too busy to look after the rest of the house.

It was a perfect winter day, and yet there was in the air just a hint of the coming spring. The girls felt it, and Louise stopped suddenly to exclaim,

“Just think, spring will be here, and njother and father will come home, and then it will be only a little time before we go to the Happy Isle!”

“Don’t you wish you were there now?”

“Indeed I do!” exclaimed Louise.

When the children were all small, Dr. Gordon had purchased a little island near the mouth of the Kennebec River. It contained about five acres of land, and was quite covered with pines and spruces. These had been judiciously cut, so as to form a beautiful grove, and from the broad piazza of the cottage, there were fine views to sea. It was an extremely unassuming summer home, and since the boys had grown older they were allowed to have tents in the grove, instead of occupying the unfinished third floor with the wasps and squirrels that shared their apartment. Life on the “Happy Isle” was very simple and very enjoyable, for there were fishing, boating and bathing, and all sorts of delightful outdoor things to do. There were indoor duties as well; while milk and all other supplies had to be procured from a neighboring island, water must be carried from the spring, and someone must row each day to the nearest mainland for mail. The boys had a canoe, and were all expert swimmers. Louise herself slept on the piazza, or even in the grove when she chose. They were never lonely, for the Boston cousins came each summer, and Maude and Millie and Sidney were also annual visitors. No one was ever ready to return to the city when September came, and the children all thought no place on earth existed, or could exist, quite equal to their dear island. In after years, when they were less often together, the little spruce covered isle always remained in memory as the ideal setting of their happy childhood, and became in loving retrospection an “island of the blessed.”

CHAPTER XIX

BOTH MERRY AND SAD

SIDNEY and the three Gordon brothers spent some time in constructing the double-runner, and it was nearly ten before they started for Walden Hill The hill was in a rather poor part of the city, and was exceedingly steep, going down in a series of slopes, intersected by cross streets, straight to the river. Across the ice was a fairly well-defined path, made not only by coasters but by teams. The surface of the frozen river had been so wind-swept that the snow upon it was only a few indies deep, and there was a crust quite thick enough to bear a swiftly flying sled. On the opposite side, among the wintry trees, rose the towers and buildings of the Catholic seminary.

The coasters were already numerous, mostly grown boys, for the girls and the little lads found Walden Hill too steep for them or had been ordered off by the older coasters, for whom their erratic movements made trouble. Several double-runners were already in use, but none of the High School boys were there, and Mont noticed, on their arrival, that rather a tough set predominated. Some of them were inclined to jeer at Sidney’s skating-cap, and Holly’s tam-o’shanter, which he certainly did wear in a very rakish style, but on the whole, everyone was too intent on coasting to break the peace. Early as it was, a policeman had already been detailed for holiday service on the hill, and was calmly patrolling it, apparently enjoying the fun.

The double-runner proved a success, and they made several fine coasts, going fully a quarter of a mile across and down the river. As they climbed the long hill after the fifth trip, the policeman chanced to be standing at the top. Sidney nodded to him, for he knew him as an extra man sometimes detailed for Mr. Miller’s personal service. As they were preparing for the next coast, a bright idea struck Sidney.

“Hullo, Mr. Kelly, don’t you want to go down this time?”

The policeman hesitated. He was, of course, expected to patrol that hill, but it was stupid work. Where was the harm in his taking one slide?

“I don’t mind if I do,” he replied, with a good-natured grin. “You won’t be after breaking me neck?”

“Not we.”

Rob rose from the sled. “I won’t go this time, — get on here, Mr. Kelly.”

Holly was steering, and the policeman took his seat just behind. Then came Sidney, and Mont clung at the end of the runner. They swept down the hill in great style, the other coasters shouting and cheering at “the cop taking a ride!”

Mr. Kelly, while no taller than the boys, was far heavier, and his weight added greatly to the sled’s momentum. They found themselves moving with such rapidity, that Holly, on reaching the river, did not dare turn out of the beaten track, lest they overturn. They shot on across with the speed of an express train. Half-way over was one of the Seminary teachers, taking a short cut across the ice instead of going round by the bridge. Though it was unusual outside the school grounds, he wore his cassock. The sled was very rapidly overtaking him, but though the boys all shouted, he paid no attention, nor even looked behind him. As luck would have it, the snow had drifted badly in this part of the river so that they could not turn from the path. The situation was rapidly becoming critical, when their yells were heard by the priest. He turned when they were scarcely twenty feet away, and made some effort to get out of their track.

Under ordinary circumstances, he would have succeeded, but a strong wind blew his cassock out at the side. This fluttering garment caught in the front of the passing sled, and in an instant, its unfortunate and astonished wearer was jerked backward, and deposited, partly on Holly, partly on the policeman, with feet waving wildly in the air. On sped the double-runner with its extra and involuntary passenger! There was no time and no chance for him to assume a more comfortable or dignified position, for Sidney and Mr. Kelly were bo’th clutching him by whatever portion of his anatomy they could grasp, while Holly, shaking with laughter, clung for dear life to the steering wheel. Fortunately their speed was slackening, and in a few seconds, Holly was able to bring the sled to a stand.

There was a tableau, for the poor priest, restored to his natural position of an upright being, looked about him with mingled severity and bewilderment. Holly and Sidney sat on the sled, perfectly helpless with mirth, and Mont was almost equally convulsed. Even their good-natured companion, the policeman, was grinning, though he alone had voice to sympathize with their victim, whose cassock was very badly tom, and whose hat lay some distance back on the river. He could not condemn the boys when Mr. Kelly himself declared it to be wholly accidental, but his dignity; was evidently much injured.

Mont controlled his amusement sufficiently to run back for the hat, which he returned with as much of an apology as he could summon under the circumstances. The priest was not ungracious, and with his hat, seemed to recover his self-possession as well, and even smiled at his predicament. He went quickly away, but it was a long time before the boys were able to start back. Holly was really .weak from prolonged laughter, and Sidney could take only a few steps before sitting down and holding his sides over the recollection of their victim’s waving legs, and Mr. Kelly’s exclamations and invocations of several and. different saints to “preserve us!”

“Oh, I think I shall die!” gasped Holly when by slow stages they at last reached the river bank, while the patrolman was already half-way up the hill, being greeted with most impudent and irreverent speeches about the accident. “I really feel as if I was coming apart!”

Mont had a pain in his side from laughter, and by common consent they sat down on the sled till they felt more equal to the steep climb.

“There’s one thing, Mont,” said Holly after a while; “if we get hauled up before the student committee for trying to murder one of the Seminary teachers, you are in it, too!”

“He wasn’t steering,” chuckled Sidney.

“This was an accident,” observed Mont ” Nothing can come of it, but it is just as well for us that Mr. Kelly was along.”

“Along? He was in it, clutching that poor man around the waist,” commented Sidney.

At the recollection of the scene thus brought before his mind, Holly lay down on the snow and laughed till he cried.

“Sid,” he gasped feebly, “honest, I think I shall break something if you don’t stop!” and as he spoke he-began to cough and choke. Mont was startled, for Holly had once broken a blood vessel laughing, but luckily this proved a false alarm. The others grew calmer, and Holly finally recovered his self-control enough to climb the hill, but he was not considered sufficiently steady to be trusted to steer again.

The girls did not come, for Louise did not care to slide when she found Millie would not go also, so after the errand was done she went home. There were two letters for her on the hall table, and she took them into the sitting-room to read. One was the weekly letter from Italy, and she read it with great pleasure and enjoyment, lingering lovingly over the pages. The other was postmarked Boston, but the penmanship was unfamiliar. She opened it with her mind still in Italy, and read the first paragraph without in the least comprehending it.

“Forgive me for directing this letter to ‘ Miss ’ Gordon, but if I don’t, they won’t let it be posted, because we can’t write to any gentlemen except our fathers. So there isn’t any other way unless you can suggest one.”

Louise read the paragraph again and then looked at the signature of the letter, “Yours forever, Helen.”

The letter began, “Dear Holly,” and was directed to “Miss H. D. Gordon.” Louise had not noticed the H. instead of L. nor given it a thought, catching only the prefix “Miss.”

The angry blood surged to her cheeks, and for a moment she was tempted to throw the letter into the fire, wondering honestly if it would not be the best thing for her to do. She had thought Holly really felt badly about his part in Helen’s disgrace, but this did not seem as if he had been very sincere. Louise for a few minutes was very indignant, and if she had not promised to think kindly of Helen, her anger would have lasted longer than it did. When she grew more composed, the thought occurred to her that perhaps her brother was ignorant of Helen’s intention to write. She would give him the benefit of the doubt, and, of course, she had no right to bum a letter that was not meant for her. When the boys came in for lunch, she gave it to Holly, saying,

“I opened it by mistake; you will see why if you look at the envelope. I read only the first paragraph and the signature.”

If Louise had been older and more skilled in reading character she would have seen from Holly’s face that die letter was both unexpected and unwelcome, but she did not guess it, and from his silence and die way he thrust it into his pocket to read at leisure, thought only that he wished to conceal it.

The boys were very hilarious at lunch, and Bert was much amused over the mishap on the hill.

“It is just as well Mr. Kelly was on the sled with you,” he commented. “No one could declare it anything but an accident when you were protected by the majesty of the law. By the way, speaking of policemen, I wonder if I ever told you how my brother and I once sprung a policeman’s rattle from a house in London. No? We were quite kids, ten or eleven, and we had been taken to town for a few weeks. It was July and hot. We were usually kept pretty close in the country, but for some reason, Lion and I were taken up to town. Lion got hold of this big watchman’s rattle, and after dusk, we rang it from one of the front windows. It made a most fiendish noise, and could be heard a half-mile. Of course it was the signal for all policemen within hearing to come at once, and they came running, eight of them! They rushed up and down, pulling bells and asking who sprung that rattle, and chased this way and that Every house told them a different story, for the beauty of doing it there in London was that the houses are so tall and narrow that it might really have been rung from one of a dozen. Well, Lion and I hung out of our window enjoying it all immensely, and we actually heard our own footman tell them it was sprung from the house opposite. It was great fun to watch those bobbies; they were so excited and so hot and so drippy 1”

“What a circus! What did they do?”

“They couldn’t find anybody who knew about it, nor anything wrong, though they insisted on entering one or two houses where there were only caretakers in charge, and the people there were so angry, and the bobbies were so annoyed and harassed, that Lion and I felt we were well entertained. After about half an hour, they went away, all but one, and he patrolled the street as long as we stopped out of bed to watch.”

** Did they ever find out you did it?”

“The police never did, but we did not hide the rattle carefully enough. Nurse unearthed it the next day, and knew at once that we did it, and there was a scene! Poor little beggars that we were! It was an unpardonable crime in her eyes to meddle with the majesty of the queen’s police; she would listen to no excuses or pleading, but marched both small sinners and the rattle down to my father, who, if I do say it, was quite devoid of any sense of the ridiculous.”

“Well?” inquired Rob, for Bert had paused and begun his lunch again.

“Oh, he was properly shocked, and produced a cane. We will draw a veil before the next scene! I remember, though, that Lion gave our footman a sixpence.”

“I am afraid, Bert, you were not a model boy!”

Bert shook his head. “I fear, Mont, that boys are much alike the world over.”

Holly ran upstairs after lunch, but both Louise and Mont lingered to ask for Maude. Bert’s face grew grave.

“Maude is not very well this morning, and I am afraid she will be worse before she is any better. I am sorry to say she has decided typhoid symptoms.”

“Oh, Bert!” exclaimed Louise in dismay.

“It may be a light attack; there is nothing yet to indicate anything else. I have been able to send her one of my best nurses, too,—Miss Hamilton,— and in typhoid the nurse is more than the doctor, you know.”

“I’m so sorry for Maude,” said Louise as she and Mont went into the sitting-room. “Let’s send her some flowers before she is too ill to care for them. You send them this time and I will, later.”

“I’ll see if I can get some violets; she likes them,” said Mont, pleased at the suggestion, and he went out at once.

Holly had reached his own room and read the letter with mingled feelings. It was a girlish epistle, full of woes, and much underlined. There were seventy-five rules, and you could break twenty-seven of them before breakfast! She hated the girls, and the teachers were all “old cats,” and she was “dying” to come back!

Hollis was in a quandary when he finished reading. Helen evidently expected him to reply, and under ordinary circumstances he would have done it just for fun, and enjoyed the circumventing of rules. Hollis was heedless and happy-go-lucky by temperament, but he had a conscience, or, as his father once put it, “was conscientious in spots!”

He had been in about as much mischief lately as his reputation would endure, or the patience of his elders bear. Yet to do him credit, it was not himself Holly thought of, but Helen. He knew she was doing wrong to write, and he had really been heartily ashamed of his share in her disgrace at school. He thought the matter over for some time, and finally decided to do nothing. If he did not reply, Helen might think her letter had been lost in the mail or confiscated at school, or that his answer had met a like fate. It was more than probable that, if he did answer, the reply would cause her trouble with the school authorities. He would do nothing at present, and was relieved, and a little surprised, that Louise made no reference to the letter.

Maude was pleased with Mont’s violets, but by the next morning she was quite past caring for flowers or for anything else, drifting in a borderland of delirium, from which she was recalled at times by her mother’s voice.

The days that succeeded were anxious ones for all who loved her. Louise could not forget how much she cared for Maude, and thought of her hourly, remembering how sweet and womanly she was. What happy times they had had at the island together 1 Louise recalled one day when she had been impatient, and her mother had rebuked her gently and spoken of Maude’s example and her sweetness, and genuine efforts to live a truly Christian life. Little incidents of her friend’s lovely character kept coming again and again into Louise’s mind, in those hours that dragged so wearily.

Mont said little but he was very quiet. His friendship and devotion to Maude dated from their kindergarten days, when he had carried her lunch basket, and tried his best to put on her rubbers for her. It had been a frank and beautiful friendship, and Mont had never wavered from his childish allegiance. Louise knew she was not the only one who prayed for Maude’s recovery.

There were several days when Bert wore the expression he had when anxious for some patient’s safety, and then came one evening when he said gently to Louise’s anxious question,

“Maude is as ill as she possibly can be, Louise. It is beyond any human power to help her. The only thing in her favor is her good constitution.”

Louise went away and presently Mont found her crying among the sofa pillows. He was not far from tears himself, but he sat down and put his arms around her and when she was a little calmer, said very gently,

“Both Bert and Dr. Chase think Maude cannot possibly get well, but I want to tell you something Mrs. Kimball told me. When Maude herself knew how ill she was, before she was delirious all the time, she told her mother not to worry, for she was not at all afraid to die. And Louise, Maude is ready if any one ever was; she has not only tried to be good, but she has been good.”

“Oh, I know it!” sobbed Louise, “and I think that makes it all the worse. We need her sol”

“Yes, we do,” agreed Mont with a break in his voice.

“It is so dreadful to have her go even if she isn’t afraid. Would you be afraid, Mont?”

“It is awfully hard to know whether I should be or not. I think I should be very sorry, but no, Louise, I don’t believe I should be afraid.”

“Oh, I wish I was good; as good as you are!” sobbed his sister. “I can’t bear to have Maude die!”

“She may not Bert is going back to stay through the night; he said he should not leave her at all.”

“Then we can’t know anything till morning?”

“No, not unless —” Mont did not finish his sentence. “Do you want me to come down and sleep in mother’s room, Pussy? Perhaps you won’t feel quite as much alone.”

“Yes,” replied Louise, “I wish you would. Oh, if there was only something we could dot”

“There is,” said Mont very gravely; “haven’t you been doing it all the time?”

It was a long night to the anxious watchers beside Maude’s bed,—her doctor, nurse, and parents, It was after two the next morning when Dr. Jennings and Miss Hamilton suddenly exchanged a glance, looking up from their intense watch over Maude. Her mother saw, but hardly understood.

Slowly, very slowly, Maude came back from the valley of the shadow, so slowly that it was only from moment to moment that either dared hope. Hour by hour they fought for her life with all the weapons science and skill could furnish.

It was eight the next morning before Bert came back to the house. He showed signs of the vigil he had been through, for his eyes were heavy and tired. Louise and Mont looked the question they dared not ask, but the doctor smiled.

“Maude has passed the crisis. She is still very ill, but I think now she has a fighting chance.”

Mont turned away abruptly, and the thankful tears filled Louise’s eyes.

“How long will it be before you are sure Maude will get well?”

“It will be some time before she is out of danger, and there is the possibility of a relapse at any time, but if she continues to improve till Sunday, I shall cease to feel so very anxious over her.”

By the end of the week the report from Maude’s room was so encouraging that the load of anxiety was lifted from the hearts of all who loved her. Convalescence must be slow,—it might be weeks before her friends could see her,—but it promised to be sure.

Mont, coming into the living-room shortly before church time, stopped short in the doorway.

“What cm earth has happened here?” he inquired, looking around with an amazed expression.

Louise was collecting the scattered sheet music with which, interspersed by cushions and upturned rugs, the floor was strewn. She was feeling rather resentful over her task, for there was a frown on her face, and an impatient note in her voice as she replied.

“Oh, I suppose it was Holly and Rob! It’s such a mess, and some one is likely to come in at any minute. The things from my work-basket are all over the floor, and that pretty Japanese vase mother likes so much is broken.”

“I’m sick of being the oldest in this family,” growled Mont. “It’s terrible to have to keep the peace! I’ve been setting a good example ever since I was three years old, and I’ve had enough of it!”

“It’s terrible to be the only girl and have to pick up after three boys!” retorted Louise.

“Oh, you can leave me out! This is no picnic of mine!”

Mont’s tone was impatient, but as he spoke he began to help reduce the disorder.

“Holly does feel badly since this cold settled in his eyes, and I have no doubt he was aggravating, but it is strange that he and Rob can’t be left alone together for ten minutes without tearing down the house!”

“Holly and Rob are a mighty long time learning to live with each other, and I’m tired to death of always trying to keep things peaceable. I’ve done it all my life!”

Mont slammed a pile of music into the rack as he spoke.

“Mont, the infant angel of peace! Daily performances, admission free, strictly a family affair!”

There was a second of surprised silence as the pleasant voice ceased, and then, in spite of themselves, both Louise and Mont laughed, while Holly flung himself on the couch and pulled the green shade over his eyes.

“Holly, you’re enough to try the patience of a saint,” remarked Mont at last.

“Which saint?” inquired his brother lazily.

“Get up now, and help clear away this mess!” commanded Mont suddenly. ‘

“How would St. Mark do?” asked Holly serenely, without making the slightest pretence at moving. “He is the fellow who goes round with a lion, isn’t he? Experience with a lion might prepare him for me. There was another old codger, who had a pet lion, too,—what’s his name? That’s my necktie, Louise. Rob’s is behind the piano.”

“St. Jerome, I suppose,” said Louise, tossing over the bit of blue silk, “but really, Holly, you are a trial.”

“Am I not?” agreed her brother unexpectedly. “Just think how much merit you acquire by living with me! This home would indeed be very peaceful if I were only under the daisies I”

“Now shut up!” exclaimed Mont. “I’ve stood all I’m going to!” while Louise in horror dropped the spools she had just collected.

“You shouldn’t speak to your little brother in that tone,” went on Holly, settling himself more comfortably among the pillows. “I’m afraid, Mont, your soul is growing all nubbly and prickly. I wish, Louise, you’d hand me that pad of paper. I want to draw a picture of Mont’s soul!”

“Just you attend to your own soul and you’ll find occupation enough!” laughed Mont, after an ineffectual attempt to preserve his dignity.

“Haven’t time. The cultivation of virtues in you and Louise takes all my spare moments.”

“It really is dreadful to upset the living-room on Sunday morning,” said his sister, collecting the last button from the scattered contents of the work-basket.

“Without doubt it is a sin,” agreed Holly sweetly, ** but, Pussy, you’d better not go to church. Let Mont go and meditate about the nubbles on his soul, but you stay and read to me. Bert is very fierce about my eyes this morning; says if I read one single word, he’ll make me have them bandaged. And it’s beastly monotonous.”

“You don’t deserve to have her stay,” remarked Mont, throwing a couple of sofa cushions at his recumbent brother.

Holly parried the missiles. “Who’s upsetting things now? Why shouldn’t she? It’s good of me to give her a chance to be unselfish.”

“That sounds very well, but there is something wrong with its fundamental philosophy,” commented Mont, while Louise tried with the poker to reach Rob’s cravat “It isn’t worth fishing out, Pussy. It came apart before I threw it there. I think he cribbed it from Mont, anyway. Mont does buy such jay ties! They may suit Maude’s taste, but they are never becoming to me, so I can’t borrow them!”

“I’m glad you refrain for any reason whatever,” said his older brother dryly.

“It is the only thing that prevents me,” acknowledged Holly, “but by the way, Mont, you needn’t think you’re the person who is the peacemaker in this family. That, you know, is my little job.”

“Holly, you are the limit!” laughed Mont “You in the role of a peacemaker!”

“Sure thing! Now, neither you nor Louise were really happy till I came and lent you the light of my countenance.”

“Your hair,” murmured Louise.

“My aureole, if you please! See how cheerfully you two have since cleared up the room. It looks very well indeed, my children!”

“Holly, if you didn’t have a cold, I’d take you out and lick you, for you certainly need it! Pussy, are you going to church?”

“Pussy, are you going to stay at home?” mimicked Holly. “You’d better, because if you don’t I shall read all the time you are gone.”

“Oh, I’ll stay!” laughed Louise.

“It is pleasant to have you so appreciative of the advantages of my society,” sighed Holly. “Good-bye, Mont, my best wishes for your nubbles.”

“Oh, Holly dear!” protested Louise laughingly, but a quick little shudder seized her as she glanced at him. Holly looked more frail and delicate than usual this morning. What, indeed, would home be without this whimsical and mischievous brother whose merry and indomitable spirit struggled so bravely with its physical limitations? It was seldom that Holly was really serious, but his raillery never had a sting, and rarely hurt any one, and he had such funny, loving ways!

“Now, Louise, I really object! I don’t so much mind being kissed when I know you’re going to do it, but—this is so sudden!”

“Holly, you’re a hopeless case!” grinned Mont as he went out.

Louise made no inquiry into the causes that had devastated the living-room. As a rule, her brothers were harmonious, and the small tempests that occasionally raged were seldom more than surface disturbances of the family life.

“What shall I read?” she asked mischievously. “Here is a paper Mont brought home the last time he went with Maude.”

“I’d have to be mighty low in my mind before I would read that! The only interesting thing in it is the fool advice they give to fellows about their love affairs.”

“Holly, I’m afraid you have nubbles on your soul, tool Let’s read the * Water-babies.’ I haven’t looked at it for ever so long. We’ll find that part about the water-baby who was so bad he grew all prickly like a sea-urchin.”

“All right, but I also want to hear about that lion hunt in that magazine. The ‘ Water-babies ’ is in Rob’s room; he cabbages all the interesting literature in the house.”

Louise read for some time while Holly reposed lazily with tired eyes shaded from the light. There seemed no good stopping-place in the fairy tale; it was so long since they had read it that they had forgotten its charm. Louise had another matter on her mind, however, and after several tentative glances at her brother, she paused at the end of a chapter to say coaxingly,

“I want to ask you a question, Holly. I don’t mean to be inquisitive or interfering, and I have a good reason for asking. Are you corresponding with Helen Howard?”

Louise’s voice was very persuasive, but her brother was still in a mood for teasing.

“What if I am?”

“Only this, that you must find some other way of getting her letters. I am not willing to be a cat’s paw, even for you I”

Holly did not in the least know what she meant, and was startled into pushing up the shade to look at her.

“Oh, your poor eyes! Do put it down. Yesterday there came a letter for me, but when I opened it, there was only a sealed envelope addressed to you. There it is, but you must tell Helen she needn’t do it again, for if any more come, I shill take them to Mrs. Howard.”

“Do if you like,” replied her brother, jerking down the shade.

Louise sat silently studying the bookplate in the ** Water-babies.” It was her own; Holly had designed it, and her father had it engraved. It was pretty and artistic; a fluffy kitten sitting on an open book spread out on a cosy window-seat. Under one paw was a tiny sprig of holly, the signature of the designer. The pretty play upon her pet name had pleased her greatly, and she looked at it lovingly.

“It wouldn’t be right for me to let Helen do it,” she said slowly after a pause.

*’ You needn’t preach, Louise.” I don’t think I am preaching, only—you’re my special brother, since we are twins,—couldn’t you, just to please me, not write to Helen unless her mother knows it?”

Holly made no answer, and she began to read again. Her brother did not listen, for he was thinking. Louise was evidently troubled about the letter, and he remembered all the willing and loving service he had received from her in the week just past He had certainly given her more than one opportunity to be unselfish.

“It really isn’t your business, Louise, but if you must know, I didn’t answer that other letter of Helen’s and I sha’n’t this.”

“I’m very glad. I didn’t want to think you were helping her do anything more she ought not to.”

“Oh, it isn’t because I’m becoming a cherub,” grumbled Holly. “I’ve been the black sheep of this family too long ever to change the color of my wool. You can burn that if you like, and if any more come, do what you please with them, but don’t give them to me, and don’t you dare tell mother!” Louise knew better than to make any comment, and she promptly buried the offending missive behind the back-log of the fire.

CHAPTER XX

THE MOTTO OF CLAN MONTROSE

HOLLIS was unable to use his eyes for study before the middle of the week, or to go to school until Thursday. Fortunately the class had begun reviewing for the spring examinations, and he had only a week’s work to make up. It did not take him long. He was often very lazy, but when he chose to work, he could accomplish a great deal in a short time. He had been unusually well all winter until this unlucky cold, which had taken extra strength and vitality. Bert was sorry, for he had hoped Holly would continue to gain till the doctor and Mrs. Gordon came bade. However, Holly had recovered his gay spirits and was once again the life of the house, and only Dr. Jennings thought him thin and pale or noticed that he spent more time than usual on the couch.

The second Sunday in March was exceedingly stormy and only Mont went out. As he returned from church, he caught a glimpse of a private carriage driving away from the door, but thought nothing of it,—probably a patient of Bert’s. In the front hall he met Rob, looking much disgusted.

“Aunt Harriet has come; she’s going to stay to dinner, and she’s already on the war-path 1” he growled.

Poor Louise was having a hard time, for Aunt Harriet’s hearing was keen, and she had detected Holly’s flying feet retreating upstairs as she came in. Rob, too, had vanished as soon as he could, and Louise was left alone to play her hard part of hostess.

When Mont appeared, Miss Gordon demanded an explanation of the coasting affair, some account of which had reached her. He related the adventure, but nothing could convince his great-aunt that Holly had not deliberately run into and kidnapped the unfortunate priest. From this, she branched off to Sidney Miller, and dissected the character of that unlucky youth to her heart’s content. He was the worst possible associate for Hollis; their names were always connected in misdoings, and their intimacy should be nipped in the bud. Suddenly she changed the subject and asked the startled Mont what Dr. Jennings had said about the article in the London paper.

“He seemed much amused to think we had connected him with it/’ replied Mont diplomatically. His answer rather disconcerted Aunt Harriet.

“Well, is that so?” she exclaimed. “Naturally, though, he would not confide in you indiscreet young people. I have a mind to ask him myself.”

Mont, being in full range of Aunt Harriet’s glasses, managed to control himself, but Louise gave a spasmodic exclamation which she turned into a cough.

“Have you taken cold from Hollis, child? You should be very careful,—slim girls like you often have consumption.”

“I have no cold, Aunt Harriet, and Holly is over his.”

“He will probably have another. It seems to me he has made himself much talked of this winter. It is extraordinary how different he is from the rest of you!”

“Oh, Aunt Harriet,” said Louise, too indignant to endure more, “Holly is so dear I You see you don’t know him as we do. If you did, you couldn’t help loving him, and indeed he is not so bad as you think!”

“I know enough of him,” said Aunt Harriet grimly. “He was bad when he was a baby, and he hasn’t improved.”

Louise was ready to cry from annoyance, but luckily Mary rang the Japanese gongs in the hall to announce dinner, and Aunt Harriet had to be escorted into the dining-room. Bert and Holly came in together from the office, so Holly escaped any special comment at the time, although Aunt Harriet refused to shake hands with him. Bert was very courteous, but had an air of such imperturbable self-possession, that Miss Gordon, if she had intended to question him, did not mention Lady Laris-ton.

It was not a pleasant dinner, for it was difficult to find any topic of conversation about which Aunt Harriet did not feel pugnacious. She asked Louise what she had ordered for dessert, and expressed surprise when Louise said that Sarah planned the meals.

The dessert, when it came, proved to be chocolate pudding, which Aunt Harriet refused, saying she could not digest chocolate. In mortification, Louise offered cake and fruit, but Miss Gordon never ate cocoanut cake, and considered that oranges should be eaten only in the privacy of one’s own room. This made matters still more uncomfortable, especially since Aunt Harriet was fixing her eye on Holly, and presently she asked why he had not come to her when she sent for him on hearing the news of his suspension.

Holly grew red, but replied quite respectfully,

“Because father had said that we were to obey Bert, and he and I had settled the matter. I didn’t think I was responsible to any one else, so I didn’t come.”

“It is a matter that I shall not overlook, Hollis,” said Aunt Harriet portentously.

Holly flared up at this. “I don’t care if —”

“Holly!” said Bert. “Remember your aunt is a guest in your home.”

Holly stopped with a visible effort. His gray eyes were full of dangerous sparkles.

“I have no doubt your remarks would be of interest, Hollis,” said Aunt Harriet grimly, “while your conduct is no more than is to be expected. Now, Louise, what is this I hear about that misguided child of Marion Howard?”

Poor Louise blushed painfully.

“There is nothing to tell. Helen has gone to a boarding-school in Boston.”

“Why was she sent?”

“She had neglected her studies, and I suppose they thought she would do better in a stricter school.”

“It all comes of allowing young people such liberties. I could have told Marion what would happen when she let her daughter take part in that play. It was a foolish performance, and as far as I know, did harm to every one who was in it”

The uncomfortable dinner came to an end at last, and Aunt Harriet established herself in the living-room. Louise gave Bert such an imploring look that he took pity on her and came also for a few minutes. Mont stuck to his post, and even Aunt Harriet’s temper improved a little with Bert’s determined effort to be entertaining. When he left, he suggested that Louise should read aloud the recent letters from Italy. Louise was thankful for the suggestion, and thus occupied the time till Miss Gordon’s carriage was announced. After helping her aunt with her wraps, she was greatly surprised to be kissed and told that she, at least, was a true Gordon.

Aunt Harriet would have been horrified, had she known the relief that surged through the house on her departure; how Rob came from the library, where he had ensconced himself; how Mont sat down at the piano and began to play; how Louise flung herself into a big chair in half-tearful relaxation; and how Holly, who had sputtered away his wrath in his room, came down two steps at a time, called the departing visitor a regular Gorgon, and hoped she might sometime find herself in a place with nothing but chocolate to eat, and where all the spiders were tarantulas 1

“Oh, Holly, don’t 1” protested Louise, laughing hysterically. “How dreadful it must be to live as long as she has and not have any one who really loves her!”

“Worse than that,” commented Mont, “to be some one whom no one could love. Love, my children, can never be bought.”

“Listen to the spoony chap!” burst in Holly. “Who’s being silly now?”

“Not I. That is merely a profound truth I am stating.”

“I can’t think why site does hate me so,” observed Holly thoughtfully. “She never liked me, but she wasn’t always as rabid as this.”

“Mother will smooth her out,” sighed Louise, “but let’s hope, oh, let’s hope she won’t come to dinner again!”

Easter came about the middle of April, and for Maude Kimball, at least, it was an important day. To one who for weeks has been a prisoner in bed, the first visitor is a great event.

Louise stopped on her way home from church, her face shining with an inward radiance that was not wholly caused by the glorious service and music she had just heard, nor by happiness at seeing her friend again, though both were contributory causes.

Maude was lying against her pillows, her soft brown hair cut short, and her big hazel eyes looking startlingly large in her thin face, but she was the same sweet Maude as ever and with a loving smile of welcome held out her arms.

“Oh, Maude darling, it is so good to see you again! We’ve missed you just terribly.”

It was difficult for Louise to keep back the tears as she realized from her friend’s fragile appearance how very ill she had been. She was glad their affectionate embrace had unfastened her little necklace, since in stooping for it she could hide her face for an instant.

Illness had not robbed Maude of her cheery smile, nor her pleasant voice. “I could hardly wait for you, Louise. Mother told me you were to come after church, and though I knew the Easter service would be long, I have been expecting you since a ridiculously early hour. How very happy you look, Louise dear!”

In spite of herself the tears came to Louise’s eyes, but she bravely forced them back.

“It is the best part of the whole day to see you again, Maudie! That is enough to make me happy, but „we are expecting father and mother on Tuesday. They sailed on the fourth from Genoa for Boston.”

“No wonder the gladness shines through,” said Maude softly. “You do look so dear, Louise! I think not seeing you for so long makes me appreciate you more!”

Louise smiled and patted the transparent white hand she held in both her own.

“I am so glad they are coming! I wish you would take some of my flowers to put in Mrs. Gordon’s room. I have a regular conservatory, you see, for flowers and plants kept coming all day yesterday. Mother arranged them around the bed for me to see, but I couldn’t have them all in here. Those daffodils should keep nicely for some days, and I would like her to have them.”

“I’ll put diem where she will see them the first thing,” promised Louise.

“It was dear of you and Millie to send the lily. I told mother I must have it close beside me and I have been watching it all the morning. It was just like you to do it. Give Millie my special love, won’t you? It has been a beautiful day,” went on Maude. “While I was resting after my breakfast, mother came in and told me something very nice was going to happen. In a minute, out in the hall, I heard Mont’s ’cello. He played some Easter music; a glorious Te Deum, and that Sanctus, and the andante we like so much. Mother thought it was so sweet of him to think of it. I hope I can thank him myself before long, but I wish you would tell him it made me very happy.”

“So that was why he took the ’cello when he first went out!” said Louise smiling. “Both he and Holly were to play with the choir at half-past ten, but I noticed when Mont went to the early service he had the ’cello. I am glad you liked it, Maudie, and I know it gave him ever so much pleasure.”

“It was a beautiful thing to do, and with the music and all the flowers and my first visitor, it has truly been Easter for me.”

There was a quiver in Maude’s voice, and Louise knelt to hold her fast for a little.

“I mustn’t stay, Maudie darling,” she whispered after a pause. “Being a doctor’s daughter I know that short visits must be made to side people, but I’m coming again very soon, and very often, for there are such stacks of things to tell you about school, and other interesting bits of news. Oh, Maudie, do hurry and get well, for nothing is quite the same when you are not there!”

Louise hurried home for it was almost time for dinner, and she did not wish to keep the boys waiting. The morning had been bright, but cold and windy, and in places the snow was lingering. It would seem rather wintry to the travellers returning from sunny Italy.

Tuesday morning, Holly came in with a handful of snowdrops found in a sheltered garden bed where they had apparently blossomed for the express purpose of welcoming Mrs. Gordon home.

Tuesday wore slowly on, and no telegram came, nor did the evening paper have any report of a wireless message showing the steamer’s whereabouts.

“Possibly the steamer came up too late to cross the bar,” said Bert cheerfully, noticing the sober faces around the dinner-table. “Or it may have been delayed by fog. It would be nothing strange at this time of year for it to be a day or so overtime. As for its not being reported by wireless, we can’t expect our papers here to get all such news.”

Wednesday passed and no word came. In the evening, Bert telephoned to Boston, more to comfort Louise than because he was worried. The result was encouraging. The steamer had been picked up by wireless, had reported much fog and a bad storm, but all were well on board and they should dock sometime the next day.

The telegram came early in the morning. Evidently the steamer had made good time during the night, for it was not seven when Mont woke Louise to share the news.

“They’ve landed, Pussy! This has just come. Bert brought it upstairs aiid told me to come and tell you.”

Mont was in bathrobe and slippers, with his brown hair all rumpled, but his eyes were shining with excitement. Louise sat up in bed and held out her hands for the telegram.

“Ashore at last. Expect us at 1.45. C. D. GORDON.”

“Oh, Mont!” exclaimed Louise, “to think they are really coming! We will all go to meet them.”

“We will have Patrick bring the double carriage up to school for us. He won’t mind walking back, and then one more can ride from the station. Now if Holly dares get kept after school!”

“Oh, he mustn’t, but I don’t believe Dr. Callen-dar will keep him to-day no matter what he does!” replied Louise happily.

That was a long morning for them all, but one o’clock came at last. Holly had so conducted himself that he was excused with the others. Patrick was on time-, and they reached the station ten minutes before the train was due, found on what track it would come in, and stationed themselves on the platform to wait. It was almost two before the whistle sounded in the distance, and in swept the train with the grinding of brakes and the hiss of escaping steam. They watched eagerly the passengers from the forward cars. No one there,—ah! there they were, two cars down, father waving his hat from the steps as he descended.

Louise ran the length of the platform, incidentally bumping into someone’s suitcase, and bruising herself quite severely, but at the time she neither knew, nor cared. Neither did she know just what happened. She was laughing and crying and kissing mother all at the same time, and then the boys seized mother, and father took her right up in his arms, quite off her feet, and never let her go again, even while he was shaking hands with the boys, and patting them on the back. Mother was laughing and crying, too, and Dr. Gordon, when there was no boy in reach to pat, kept on patting her. Then suddenly Bert appeared, and the welcome began over again.

Bert had come to the station with the auto, and Dr. Gordon went with him, leaving the children and their mother to squeeze into the surrey. It was a tight fit, but no one cared, and Mrs. Gordon sat between the twins on the back seat, while Rob in front was quite twisted around so he could keep her in sight. Mont had to attend to his horses, but he lost no word that the others were saying.

“My own little daughter, and my three dear boys 1” said Mrs. Gordon lovingly as they turned into a quieter street. “Robin, I’m sorry I haven’t a third hand for you to hold, but your turn and Mont’s shall come later. Oh, Pussy! won’t we have good times all back together in the dear home?”

Louise responded with a closer clasp of the hand she held.

Sarah and Mary had a smiling and affectionate greeting for the master and mistress, and the whole house radiated a welcome. Lunch was ready, and Bert and Dr. Gordon were persuaded to come immediately. As they gathered round the table where they had not been together for five long months, the doctor gave a quick glance at his children, the sweet little daughter, and the three tall lads. Then he bowed his head, and instead of their usual silent grace, gave grateful thanks for the love and mercy that had kept them through the days of separation and brought them safely together again.

Bert had to hurry away after lunch, but the doctor came into the living-room with the rest.

“Come here and let me look at you!” he exclaimed laughingly, taking his eldest son by the shoulders. “Well, Montrose is surely as tall as his old dad, if not taller!”

In spite of the gay tone the doctor was looking very keenly into the honest brown eyes that were meeting his own as squarely and unflinchingly. He was evidently satisfied with what he saw, for he gave him an affectionate slap on the back, and then put his arm round Rob.

“Take off your glasses a moment, and let me have a son and not an owl! Won’t do, will it? It makes a bat instead of a boy! Bless me, Robin, I hate to have you so dependent on your lenses! Hurry and grow older, for I think the trouble will lessen with the years!”

He stood for a moment with an arm around either son, and then kissed Louise and drew her to a seat beside him on the couch.

“Holly, come here, my lad! You haven’t given me a hug yet, and I need one.”

“You need a shave, too, father,” remarked the boy a second later.

The others shouted and the doctor’s eyes twinkled.

“Ah, Holly is himself again! I really wasn’t enjoying this terribly proper, tall youth, who looks like Holly and doesn’t act like him!”

Holly also laughed, but immediately looked so sober and was so unwilling to meet his father’s eyes, that the doctor felt sorry. Evidently Holly was the only one of the four who needed to have matters set right for him. There would be time for that later.

They sat talking till the trunks came, when the doctor left them, saying that he must attend to business. The others went up with Mrs. Gordon to see the unpacking.

Such curious and pretty things as appeared: beautiful photographs, post cards, bits of pottery, a lovely bronze statuette!

Louise exclaimed with delight over a turquoise ring from Florence, made of two quaint twisted serpents guarding a turquoise matrix with an Arabic inscription in gold, and thought herself the happiest girl in existence when she found six silver buttons and a thimble set with coral were also for her.

Still another surprise was in store, for Mrs. Gordon opened a small pasteboard box, and said, smiling,

“Look, dear, aren’t they pretty?”

Louise exclaimed with admiration, for the box contained three little ivory broodies, beautifully carved, and colored to look like real flowers.

“One is for Millie, one for Maude, and one for Louise. Montrose, my son, you are good at seeing likenesses; which pin did I choose for which girl?”

“That is easy, mother,” said Mont, smiling, and looking at the pretty ornaments with interest “You meant the blue cornflower for Millie, the wild rose for Louise, and the violet for Maude.”

“Bright boy, go up to the head! How is my dear Maude?”

“Louise saw her Sunday, and Mrs. Kimball says I may just as soon as she can sit up.”

“She was propped with pillows, mother, and so pale and sweet. I felt that I wanted to hold her fast all the time, just to keep her here.”

“I am anxious to see the dear child, and thank her for the daffodils and give her the pin. She wrote me such a sweet letter at Christmas!”

Mrs. Gordon returned to the depths of the trunk and presently Rob was made dumb with admiration over a copy of “Romola” bound in vellum and plentifully illustrated with Florentine photographs. His speechlessness was not improved by the appearance of a pair of antique bronze book-supports.

Mont and Holly each had a quaint and handsome watch-fob, while Mrs. Gordon had chosen for Mont some coins to add to his collection, and for Holly a chess board of the inlaid Sorrento work. There was also an inlaid cribbage board and a curious little bronze vessel like an antique tripod.

“Those are for Bert,” said Mrs. Gordon as she looked up from the things piled about her. “What’s this? Oh, it is the silk waist I brought for Sarah, and this lace is for Aunt Harriet, and see here, honey, won’t these Roman handkerchiefs make gorgeous sofa pillows?”

“What’s this tripod thing for, mother?”

“I thought Bert could use it for an ash tray. He’s not given up smoking, has he? And when did you see Aunt Harriet?”

“Mother, she came to dinner one Sunday about a month ago, and oh, it was awful!”

“She was utterly impossible,“said Holly, sitting down on the floor. “Nobody living could endure her. I was awfully rude to her; you will probably hear so from her, but I may as well break the news to you gently. She was more than human nature could bear, and I am afraid I never shall be sorry about it, mother dearest, so you needn’t try very hard to make me!”

It was impossible for Mrs. Gordon not to smile when Holly’s merry gray eyes were looking into hers, but she shook her head as she returned to the trunk. After it was unpacked, the boys drifted away, and Louise had her chance to talk while she was helping put things in their places. While they were making room for the new treasures, her mother discovered and greatly admired the stenciled pillows.

In the late afternoon, Mrs. Gordon came down to find the doctor arid Bert and they had a short talk, in the course of which Bert was very gratefully thanked, though he protested that the winter had been only a pleasure to him.

“And how do the children seem to you?” he inquired hastily, to change the subject.

“Much the same. Mont has grown more manly and Rob taller. Holly looks well for him.”

“Not so well as he did a month ago. That hard cold pulled him down, but before that he was in good shape.”

“And my little Louise is as pretty as a picture,” said the doctor.

“She has been so sweet with her brothers this winter, so thoughtful and womanly. I think, Mrs. Gordon, she has tried in every possible way to take your place. And Mont deserves credit also; he has done his best, and been his own sterling self. Rob, I know, has won several victories over his temper.”

“And what of Holly?” asked the.doctor.

“Holly has had a hard time. I think he has really suffered, but he has profited, too, by the experience. It seems to me he is a little less heedless, and more thoughtful; a little more inclined to con* sider what may happen, before he does the first crazy thing that comes into his head. Mont has been tremendously good to him. Their fraternal affection is certainly a very beautiful thing, and I only wish Mont was as essential to Holly’s happiness, as Holly himself is to Mont’s.”

“That’s a difference in temperament,” said the doctor. “Mont cares for fewer people, but he loves those few intensely. And how much discipline have you been obliged to apply?” he asked merrily.

Bert laughed. “Not a great amount. On one occasion I advised Mont to apologize, and Louise to receive said apology. I have had one short but serious interview with Rob, and several, alas! with Holly. Holly is such a lovable boy! Yet he may give you a heartache where Mont never will.”

“Holly needs improvement, goodness knows!” said Dr. Gordon. “Yet I hate to have him radically changed in the process. Why, he isn’t himself at all!”

“He will be when he has had one confidential talk with the father who understands him so well,” replied Bert with an affectionate glance at the older man.

Holly had that interview in the evening when he came down to the office, where Dr. Gordon was looking over papers. He did not interrupt, but sat silently on the operating-table till the doctor noticed his presence.

“Come here, sonny I” he exclaimed, turning round in his swivel-chair. “What’s the matter, dear boy? Aren’t you glad to have your old dad back?”

“Awfully 1” Holly had both arms round his father’s neck as he spoke. “Only Mont and Rob haven’t got into scrapes.’’

“And Holly has? Well, I’m sorry about the scrapes, but you know we love our bad boy just the same. And I never give up hoping Holly will stop getting into trouble.’’

“I was very sorry!”

“I know you were, and we won’t discuss any past sins. Or is it something more I haven’t heard about?”

“Nothing special just now, only I wish I had not done a number of things I did do.”

“It isn’t a very satisfactory winter to look back upon,” said the doctor, smoothing the bright head gently, “and I don’t wonder you feel badly about it,—I should in your place. But, Holly, we can always ask to be forgiven and start again. You want to, don’t you?”

Holly made no reply, only tightened his clasp, and the doctor added in a low tone,

“Just try again, sonny, and succeed better this time.”

“Oh, dad, you are such a brick I” said Holly, straightening up, and looking directly into the doctor’s eyes. “I shall do my level best never to make you feel sorry again.”

“Because you are my own boy, you can hurt me a good deal, you know,” replied the doctor quietly.

“Father,” went on Holly, after a pause, arranging the doctor’s tie as he spoke, “I have had a row with Aunt Harriet, but it was not without provocation, and I don’t think I was as dreadful as she will’ tell you. Why does she hate me so?”

“It isn’t you, Holly; she wanted you christened Hezekiah, after a man whom she expected to marry. Oh, she was young once, though you do lode doubtful! We asked her to be your godmother, but die refused unless she could have the privilege of naming you. We felt we could not have you called Hezekiah, and so she would have nothing to do with the affair, and has disliked you ever since. It is all in the name; were you Hezekiah instead of Hollis, everything you might choose to do would be perfect in her eyes.”

“Great Scott, what a name! That was a lucky escape, but I am glad to know she has some reason, for I didn’t see why she should always be so disagreeable to me.”

“That is the only reason. Now, if all is well again, I ought to look over these papers before Bert returns.”

Holly left the office much happier than when he had entered, and returned to the cosy living-room. The others were preparing to toast marshmallows, and he had a chance to sit quietly by his mother for a little.

“Oh, mother!” exclaimed Louise when no one could eat any more; “I am so ridiculously happy! Truly, I think nobody else ever was so happy!”

“Why, dearie, of course you are happy! Isn’t it a beautiful thing to have a home like ours? I am sure I am perfectly contented. I didn’t meet a single person, while I was away, with whom I would change places,—no, not one! I feel that I am a very blessed woman with my dear home, and my good husband, and my three big boys and my bonny little daughter!”

“We do have nice times together,” said Mont gravely; “better than most families, I think.”

Mrs. Gordon smiled and looked at a portrait on the wall.

“Your grandfather used always to say that loy alty was the distinguishing characteristic of Clan Montrose. Do you remember the motto above the fireplace in his study? As a girl it fascinated me, and I have come to think it means more than the clan loyalty in the old sense; love of home and of one another as well. You are Montroses as well as Gordons, you know.”

She paused and glanced at them all; Louise and Rob still on the hearth-rug, Holly beside her on the couch, and Mont leaning against the mantel, with a thoughtful expression on his manly face. Then she quoted softly the old saying of her father’s clan.

“They aye stand together, Montrose with Montrose.”

THE END.