 CHAPTER 7 Carol and Elizabeth got on very well together. Shirley was amazed to see the ease with which her sister entered into this new relation, unawed by the garments of her hostess. Carol had more of the modern young America in her than Shirley, perhaps, whose early life had been more conventionally guarded. Carol was democratic, and strange to say, felt slightly superior to Elizabeth on account of going to a public school. The high school girls were in the habit of referring to a neighborhood boarding school as Dummy's Retreat, and therefore Carol was not at all awed by the other girl, who declared in a friendly manner that she had always been crazy to go to the public school and asked rapid, intelligent questions about the doings there. Before they were out of the city limits, the two girls were talking a steady stream, and one could see from their eyes that they liked each other. Shirley, relieved, settled back on the comfortable cushions, and let herself rest and relax. She tried to think how it would feel to own a car like this, and be able to ride around when she wanted to. On the front seat, George and Graham were already excellent friends, and George was gaining valuable information about running a car, which he had ample opportunity to put into practice as soon as they got outside the crowded thoroughfares. They were perhaps halfway to the old barn and running smoothly on an open road, with no one in sight a long way ahead, when Graham turned back to Shirley, leaving George to run the car for a moment himself. The boy's heart swelled with gratitude and utmost devotion to be thus trusted. Of course there wasn't anything to do but keep things just as he had been told, but this man realized that he would do it and not perform any crazy, daring action to show off. George set himself to be worthy of this trust. To be sure, young Graham had a watchful eye upon things, and was taking no chances. But he let the boy feel free, and did not make him aware of his espionage, which is a course of action that will win any boy to give the best that is in him to any responsibility, if he has any best at all. It was not the kind of conversation that one would expect between landlord and tenant that the young girl and the man carried on in these brief sentences now and then. He called her attention to the soft green tint that was spreading over the treetops more distinctly than the day before, to the lazy little clouds floating over the blue, to the tinting of the fields now taking on every hour new colors, to the perfume in the air. So with pleasantness of passage they arrived at last at the old barn. Like a pack of eager children they tumbled out of the car and hurried up to the barn, all talking at once, forgetting all difference in station. They were just young and out on a picnic. Graham had brought a key for the big padlock, and clumsily the man and the boy, unused to such maneuvers, unlocked and shoved back the two great doors. "'These doors are too heavy. They should have ball bearings,' remarked young Graham. "'I'll attend to that at once. They should be made to move with a light touch. I declare it doesn't pay to let property lie idle without a tenant. There are so many little things that get neglected.' He walked around with wise air, as if he had been an active landowner for years, though indeed he was looking at everything with strange ignorant eyes. His standard was a home where every detail was perfect, and where necessities came and vanished with the need. This was his first view into the possibilities of being up against it, as he phrased it in his mind. Gwyneth and her blue velvet cloak and blue cloudy veil stood like a sweet fairy in the wide doorway, and looked around with delight. "'Oh, Sid, wouldn't this be just a dandy place for a party?' she exclaimed eagerly. You could put the orchestra over in that corner, behind a screen of poms, and decorate with gray florida moss and asparagus vines with daffodils wired on in showers from the beams, and poms all round the walls, and colored electrics hidden everywhere. You could run a wiring from the street, couldn't you? The way they did it, Uncle Andy's, and serve the supper out on the lawn with little individual rustic tables. Brower has them, and brings them out with rustic chairs to match. You could have the tree-wire, too, and have colored electrics all over the place. Oh, wouldn't it be just heavenly? Say, Sid, Carol says they are coming out here to live, maybe. Why couldn't we give them a party like that for housewarming?' Mike Graham looked at his eager and practical young sister, and then at the faces of the three Hollisters, and tried not to laugh, as the tremendous contrast of circumstances was presented to him. But his rare tact served him in good stead. Why, Elizabeth, that would doubtless be very delightful! But Miss Hollister tells me her mother has been quite ill, and I'm sure, while that may be the happiest thing imaginable for you young folks, it would be rather trying on an invalid. I guess you'll have to have your party somewhere else for the present. Oh, said Elizabeth, with quick recollection, of course, they told me about their mother, how thoughtless of me! But it would be lovely, wouldn't it, Miss Hollister? Can't you see it? She turned in wistful appeal to Shirley, and that young woman being a dreamer herself, at once responded with a radiant smile. Indeed I can, and it would be lovely indeed. But I've been thinking, what a lovely home it could be made, too. Yes? said Elizabeth questioningly, and looked around with the dubious frown. It would need a lot of changing, I should think. He would want hardwood floors, and lots of rugs, and some partitions in windows. Oh, no! said Shirley, laughing. We're not hardwood people, dear. We're just plain, hardworking people, and all we need is a quiet, sweet place to rest in. It's going to be just heavenly here, with that tree outside to shave the doorway, and all this wide space to walk around in. We'd live in a little narrow city-house now, and never have any place to get out except the street. We'll have the birds and the brook for orchestra, and we won't need palms, because the trees and vines will soon be in leaf, and make a lovely screen for our orchestra. I imagine at night the stars will have almost as many colors as electrics. Elizabeth looked at her with puzzled eyes, but half convinced. Well, yes, perhaps they would, she said, and smiled. I've never thought of them that way, but it sounds very pretty. I'd like some of Browning's poetry that I don't understand, or what's it Mrs. Browning? I can't quite remember. Sidney Graham, investigating the loft above them, stood a moment watching the tableau, and listening to the conversation, though they could not see him, and he thought within himself that it might not be a bad thing for his little sister with her boarding school rearing to get near to these true-hearted young working people who yet were dreamers and poets, and get her standard somewhat modified by theirs. He was especially delighted with the gentle, womanly way in which Shirley answered the girl now, when she thought herself alone with her. George and Carol had grasped hold of hands, and run wildly down the slope to the brook after a most casual glance at the interior of the barn. Elizabeth now turned her dainty, high-heeled boots in the brook's direction, and Shirley was left alone to walk the length and breadth of her new abode and make some real plans. The young man in the dim loft above watched her for a moment as she stood looking from one wall to the other, measuring distances with her eye, walking quickly over to the window and rubbing a clear space on the dusty pane with her handkerchief that she might look out. She was a goodly sight, and he could not help comparing her with the girls he knew, though their garments would have far outshone hers. Still, even in the shabby, dark-blue-surge suit, she seemed lovely. The young people returned as precipitately as they had gone, and both Carol and George of their own accord joined Shirley in a brief council of war. Graham thoughtfully called his sister away, ostensibly to watch a squirrel high in the big tree, but really to admonish her about making no further propositions like that for the party, as the young people to whom he had introduced her were not well off, and had no money or time for elaborate entertainments. But they're lovely, Sid, aren't they? Don't you like them just awfully? I know you do, or you wouldn't have taken the trouble to bring them out here in the car with us. Say, you'll bring me to see them often after they come here to live, won't you?" "'Perhaps,' said her brother smilingly, "'but hadn't you better wait until they ask you?' "'Oh, they'll ask me,' said Elizabeth, with a charming smile and a confident little toss of her head. I'll make them ask me.' "'Be careful, kid,' he said, still smiling. Remember, they won't have much money to offer you entertainment with, and probably their things are very plain and simple. You may embarrass them if you invite yourself out.'" Elizabeth raised her azure eyes to her brother's face thoughtfully for a moment, then smiled back confidently once more. "'Don't you worry, Sid, dear? There's more than one way. I won't hurt their feelings, but they are going to ask me, and they're going to want me, and I'm going to come. Yes, and you're going to bring me.'" She turned with a laughing pirouette and danced down the length of the barn to Carol, catching her hand and whirling her after her in a regular childish frolic. "'Well, do you think we ought to take it? Do you think I dare give my final word without consulting mother?' Shirley asked her brother when they were thus left alone for a minute. "'Sure thing. No mistake. It's simply great. You couldn't get a place like this if you went the length and breadth of the city, and had a whole lot more money than you have to spend.' "'But remember, it's a barn,' said Shirley impressively. Mother may mind that very much. "'Not when she sees it,' said Carol, whirling back to the consultation, she'll think it's the sensibilist thing we ever did. She isn't foolish like that. We'll tell her we've found a place to camp with a shanty attached, and she can't be disappointed. I think it'll be great. Just think how Doris can run in the grass.' "'Yes,' put in George, I was telling Carol down by the spring, before that girl came and stopped us. I think we might have some chickens and raised eggs. Harley could do that, and Carol and I could raise flowers, and I could take them to town in the morning. I could work evenings.' Shirley smiled. She almost felt like shouting that they agreed with her. The place seemed so beautiful, so almost heavenly to her, when she thought of the close, dark quarters at home, and the summer with its heat coming on. We couldn't keep a lodger, and we'd have that much less,' said Shirley thoughtfully. "'But we wouldn't have the laundry, nor the remorque to do,' said Carol, and I could have that much more time for the garden and chickens. We mustn't count on being able to make much that way,' said Shirley gravely. You know nothing about gardening, and would probably make a lot of mistakes at first, anyway.' I could make fudge and sandwiches, and take them to school to sell,' declared Carol Stoutly, and I'll find out how to raise flowers and parsley and little things people have to have. Besides, there's watercress down by that brook, and people like that. We could sell that.' "'Well, we'll see,' said Shirley thoughtfully, but you mustn't get up too many ideas yet. If we can only get moved and Mother is satisfied, I guess we can get along. The rent is only ten dollars.' "'Good night! That's cheap enough,' said George, and drew a long whistle. Then, seeing Elizabeth approaching, he put on in a different air, and sauntered to the dusty window at the other end of the barn. Sydney Graham appeared now, and took Shirley over to the East End, to ask her just where she thought would be a good place to put the partition, and did she think it would be a good thing to have another one at the other end, just like it? And so they stood and planned, quite as if Shirley were ordering a ten-thousand-dollar alteration put into her ten-dollar barn. Then suddenly the girl remembered her fears, and, looking straight up into the interested face of the young man, she asked earnestly, "'You are sure you were going to put in these partitions? You are not making any change on my account, because I couldn't think of allowing you to go to any trouble or expense, you know.' Right-forward look embarrassed him. Why I—' He said, growing a little flushed. Why, you see, I hadn't been out to look things over before. I didn't realize how much better it would be to have those partitions in, you know. But now I intend to do it right away. Father put the whole thing in my hands to do as I pleased. In fact, the place is mine now, and I want to put it in good shape to rent. So don't worry yourself in the least. Things won't go to rack and ruin so quickly, you know, if there is someone in the place. He finished his sentence briskly. It seemed quite plausible, even to himself now, and he searched about for a change of topic. "'You think you can get on here with the rough floor? You might put padding or something under your carpets, you know. But it will take pretty large carpets.' He looked at her dubiously. To his conventional mind every step of the way was blocked by some impassable barrier. He did not honestly see how she was going to do the thing at all. "'Oh, we don't need carpets,' laughed Shirley Galey. "'We'll spread down a rug in front of Mother's bed, and another one by the piano, and the rest will be just perfectly all right. "'We're not expecting to give receptions here, you know,' she added mischievously. "'We're only campers, and very grateful campers at that, too, to find a nice clean empty floor where we can live. The only thing that is troubling me is the cooking. I've been wondering if it will affect the insurance if we use an oil stove to cook with, or would you rather we got a wood stove and put the pipe out of one of the windows. I've seen people do that sometimes. Of course we could cook outdoors on a campfire if it was necessary, but it might be a little inconvenient rainy days.' Graham gasped at the coolness with which the slip of a girl discoursed about hardships as if there were necessities to be accepted pleasantly and without a murmur. She actually would not be daunted at the idea of cooking her meals on a fire out of doors. Cooking indeed. That was, of course, a question that people had to consider. It had never been a question that crossed his mind before. People cooked. How did they cook? By electricity, gas, coal, and wood-fires, of course. He had never considered it a matter to be called in any way serious. But now he perceived that it was one of the first main things to be looked out for in a home. He looked down at the waiting-girl with a curious mixture of wonder, admiration, and dismay in his face. "'Why, of course, you will need a fire and a kitchen,' he said, as if those things usually grew in houses without any help, and it hadn't occurred to him before that they were not indigenous to barns. Well, now I hadn't thought of that. There isn't any chimney here, is there?' Hmm! There ought to be a chimney in every barn. It would be better for the hay, I should think. Keep it dry, you know, and all that sort of thing. And then, I should think, it might be better for the animals. I must look into that matter.' "'No, Mr. Graham,' said Shirley, decidedly, there is no necessity for a chimney. We can perfectly well have the pipe go through a piece of tin set in the back window if you won't object, and we can use the little oil stove when it's very hot, if that doesn't affect the insurance. We have a gas stove, of course, that we could bring. But there isn't any gas in the barn.' Graham looked round blankly at the cobwebby walls, as if expecting gas jets to break forth simultaneously with his wish. "'No, I suppose not,' he said, although I should think there ought to be. In a barn, you know. But I'm sure there will be no objection whatever to you or using any kind of stove that will work here. This is a stone barn, you know, and I'm sure it won't affect the insurance. I'll find out and let you know.' Shirley felt a trifle uneasy yet about those partitions in the low price of the rent, but somehow the young man had managed to impress her with the fact that he was under no unpleasant delusions concerning herself and that he had the utmost respect for her. He stood looking down earnestly at her for a moment without saying a word, and then he began hesitatingly. "'I wish you'd let me tell you,' he said frankly, "'how awfully brave you are about all this, planning to come out here in this lonely place, and not being afraid of hard work, and rough floors, and a barn, and even a fire out of doors.' Shirley's laugh rang out, and her eyes sparkled. "'Why, it's the nicest thing that's happened to me in ages,' she said joyously. "'I can't hardly believe it's true that we can come here, that we can really afford to come to a great heavenly country place like this. I suppose, of course, there'll be hard things. There always are. And some of them have been just about unbearable. But even the hard things can be made fun, if you try. This is going to be grand.' And she looked around triumphantly on the dusty rafters and rough stone walls with a little air of possession. "'You are rather,' he paused, "'unusual,' he finished thoughtfully, as they walked toward the doorway and stood looking off at the distance. But now Shirley had almost forgotten him in the excitement of the view. "'Just think of waking up to that every morning,' she declared, with a sweep of her little blue-clad arm toward the view in the distance. Those pearly hills, the fringe of brown and green against the horizon, that white spy are nestling among those evergreens. Is that a church? Is it near enough for us to go to? Mother wouldn't want us to be too far from church.' "'We'll go home that way and discover,' said Graham decidedly. "'You'll want to get acquainted with your new neighborhood. You'll need to know how near there is a store and where your neighbors live. We'll reconnoiter a little. Are you ready to go?' "'Oh, yes. I'm afraid we have kept you too long already, and we must get home about the time Carol usually comes from school, or mother will be terribly worried. Carol is never later than half-past four.' "'We've plenty of time,' said the driver of the car, looking at his watch and smiling assurance. Call the children, and we'll take a little turn around the neighborhood before we go back. And so the little eager company were reluctantly persuaded to climb into the car again and start on their way.' CHAPTER VIII The car leaped forward up the smooth white road, and the great barn as they looked back to it seemed to smile pleasantly to them and fare well. Carol suddenly looked back and tried to think how it would seem to come home every night, and see Doris, standing at the top of the grassy incline, waiting to welcome her. Tried to fancy her mother in a hammock under the big tree a little later when it grew warm in summery, and the boys working in their garden. It seemed too heavenly to be true. The car swept around the corner of Alastor Avenue and curved down between tall trees. The white spire in the distance drew nearer now, and the purplish hills were off at one side. The way was fresh, with smells of spring, and everywhere were sweet scents and droning bees and croaking frogs. The spirit of the day seemed to enter into the young people and make them glad. Somehow all at once they seemed to have known one another a long time, and to be intimately acquainted with one another's tastes and ecstasies. They exclaimed together over the distant view of the city with the river winding on its far way, and shouted simultaneously over a frightened rabbit that scurried across the road and hid in the brushwood. And then the car wound round a curve, and the little white church swept into view below them. The little white church in the valley is bright with the blossoms of May, and true is the heart of your lover who waits for your coming today. Chanted forth George in a favorite selection of the department store Victrola, and all the rest it looked interested. It was a pretty church, and nestled under the hills as if it were part of the landscape, making a home-center for the town. We can go to church, and Sunday school there, said Shirley eagerly. How nice! That will please Mother. Elizabeth looked at her curiously, and then speculatively toward the church. It looks awfully small and cheap, said Elizabeth. All the more chance for us to help, said Shirley. It will be good for us. What could you do to help a church? Asked the wondering Elizabeth. Give money to paint it? The paint is all scaling off. We couldn't give much money, said Carol, because we haven't got it. But there's lots of things to do in a church besides giving. You teach in Sunday school, and you wait on table at suppers when they have ladies' aid. Maybe they'll ask you to play the organ, Shirley, suggested George. Oh, George, reproof Shirley, they'll have plenty that can play better than I can. Remember I haven't had time to practice for ages. She's a crackerjack at the piano, confided George to Graham in a low growl. She hasn't had a lesson since Father died, but before that she used to be at it all the time. She can sing, too. You ought to hear her. I'm sure I should like to, assented Graham Hardley. I wonder if you will help me get her to sing sometime, if I come out to call after you are settled. Ah! said George Hardley. But she maybe won't do it. She's awfully nutty about singing sometimes. She's not stuck on herself to nothing. But the little white church was left far behind, and the city swept on apace. They were nearing home now, and Graham insisted on knowing where they lived, that he might put them down at their door. Shirley would have pleaded and errand and had them sit down in the business part of the town. But George eerily gave the street a number, and Shirley could not prevail upon Graham to stop at his office and let them go their way. And so the last few minutes of the drive was silent for Shirley, and her cheeks grew rosy with humiliation over the dark little narrow street where they would presently arrive. Perhaps when he saw it this cultured young man would think they were too poor and common to be good tenants even for a barn. But when they stopped before the little two-story brick house, you would not have known from the expression on the young man's face as he glanced at the number, but that the house was a marble front on the most exclusive avenue in the city. He handed down Shirley with all the grace that he would have used to wait upon a millionaire's daughter, and she liked the way he helped out Carroll and spoke to George as if he were an old chum. I want you to come and see me next Saturday, called Elizabeth to Carroll as the car glided away from the curb, and I'm coming out to help you get settled, remember? The brother and two sisters stood in front of their little old dark house and watched the elegant car glide away. They were filled with wonder at themselves that they had been all the afternoon a part of that elegant outfit. Was it a dream? They rubbed their eyes as the car disappeared around the corner, and turned to look up at the familiar windows and make sure where they were. Then they stood a moment to decide how they should explain to the waiting mother why they happened to be home so early. It was finally decided that George should go to hunt up a drayman, and find out what he would charge to move their things to the country, and Shirley should go to her neighbors to inquire about a stove she heard they wanted to sell. Then Carroll could go in alone, and there would be nothing to explain. There was no telling when either George or Shirley would have a holiday again, and it was as well to get these things arranged as soon as possible. Meantime Elizabeth Graham was eagerly interviewing her brother, having taken the vacant front seat for the purpose. "'Sid, where did you find those perfectly dear people? I think they are just great. And are they really going to live in that barn? Won't that be dandy? I wish mother had let me go out and spend a month with them. I mean to ask her. That Carroll is the nicest girl ever. She's just a dear." "'Now look here, kid,' said Graham, facing about to his sister. I want you to understand a thing or two. I took you on this expedition because I thought I could trust you. See?' Elizabeth nodded. "'Well, I don't want a lot of talk at home about this. Do you understand? I want you to wait a bit and go slow. If things seem to be all right a little later on, you can ask Carroll to come and see you, perhaps. But you'll have to look out. She hasn't find clothes to go visiting in, I imagine, and they're pretty proud. I guess they've lost their money. Their father died a couple of years ago, and they've been up against it. They do seem like awfully nice people, I'll admit. And if it's all right later on, you can get to be friends, but you'll have to go slow. Mother wouldn't understand it, and she mustn't be annoyed, you know. I'll take you out to see them sometime when they get settled, if it seems all right. But meantime, can you keep your tongue still?' Elizabeth's face fell, but she gave her word immediately. She and her brother were chums. It was easy to see that. But can't I have her out for a week and sit? Can't I tell Mother anything about her? I could lend her some dresses, you know. You go slow, kid, and leave the matter to me. I'll tell Mother about them pretty soon, when I've had a chance to see a little more of them, and I'm sure Mother wouldn't mind. Meantime, don't you fret. I'll take you out when I go on business, and you shall see her pretty soon again. Elizabeth had to be content with that. She perceived that for some reason her brother did not care to have the matter talked over in the family. She knew they would all guy him about his interest in a girl who wanted to rent his barn, and she felt herself that Shirley was too fine to be talked about in that way. The family wouldn't understand unless they saw her. I know what you mean, Sid," she said after a thoughtful pause. You want the folks to see them before they judge what they are, don't you? That's just exactly the point," said Sidney, with a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. That's just what makes you such a good pal, kid, you always understand. The smile dawned again in Elizabeth's eyes, and she padded her brother's sleeve. Good old Sid, she murmured tenderly, you're all right, and I just know you're going to take me out to that barn soon. Aren't you going to fix it up for them a little? They can't live there that way. It would be a dandy place to live if the windows were bigger and there were doors like a house and a piazza and some fireplaces, a great big stone fireplace in the middle there opposite the door. Wouldn't that be sweet? And they'll have to have electric lights in some bathrooms, of course. Her brother tipped back his head and laughed. I'm afraid you wouldn't make much of a hand to live in a barn, kid," he said. You're too much of an aristocrat. How much do you want for your money? My dear, they don't expect tiled bathrooms and electric lights in inlaid floors when they rent a barn for the summer. Why aren't you going to do anything, Sid? Well, I can't do much, for Miss Hollister would suspect right away. She's very businesslike, and she has suspicions already, because I said I was going to put in partitions. She isn't an object of charity, you know. I imagine they are all pretty proud. Elizabeth sat thoughtful and still. It was the first time in her life she had contemplated what it would be to be very poor. Her brother watched her with interest. He had a feeling that it was going to be very good for Elizabeth to know these Hollisters. Suddenly he brought the car to a stop before the office of a big lumberyard they were passing. I'm going in here, kid, for just a minute, to see if I can get a man to put in those partitions. Elizabeth sat meditatively studying the office window through whose large dusty panes could be seen tall strips of molding, unpainted window frames, and a fluted column or two evidently ready to fill an order. The sign over the door set forth that window sashes, doors, and blinds were to be had. Suddenly Elizabeth sat up straight and read the sign again, strained her eyes to see through the window, and then opened the car door and sprang out. In a moment more she stood beside her brother, pointing mutely to a large window frame that stood against the wall. What is it, kid? He asked kindly. Sid, why can't you put on great big windows like that? They would never notice the windows, you know. It would be so nice to have plenty of light and air. That's so, he murmured. I might change the window some without its being noticed. Then to the man at the desk. What's the price of that window? Got any more? Yes, said the man looking up interested. Got half a dozen, made especially for a party, and then he wasn't pleased. Claimed he ordered sash-winders instead of casement. If you can use these six, we'll make you a special price. Oh, take them, Sid. They're perfectly lovely, said Elizabeth Eagley. They have casement windows with diamond panes. They'll just be so quaint and artistic in that stone. Well, I don't know how they'll fit, said the young man doubtfully. I don't want to make it seem as if I was trying to put on too much style. No, Sid, it won't seem that way, really. I tell you, they'll never notice the windows are bigger, and casement windows aren't like a regular house, you know. See, they'll open wide like doors. I think it would be just grand. All right, kid, we'll see. We'll take the man out with us, and if he says it can be done, I'll take them. Elizabeth was overjoyed. That's just what it needed, she declared. They couldn't live in the dark on rainy days. You must put two in the front on each side of the door and one on each end. The back windows will do well enough. Well, come on, kid. Mr. Jones is going out with me at once. Do you want to go with us, or shall I call a taxi and send you home? said her brother. I'm going with you, of course, said Elizabeth eagerly, hurrying out to the cars if she thought the thing would be done all wrong without her. So Elizabeth sat in the back seat alone while her brother in the contractor discoursed on the price of lumber and the relative values of wooden stone for building purposes, and the big car went back over the way it had been before that afternoon. They stopped on the way out and picked up one of Mr. Jones' carpenters, who was just leaving a job with his kit of tools, and who climbed stolidly into the back seat and sat as far away from the little blue velvet mist as possible, all the while taking furtive notes to tell his own little girl about her when he went home. Elizabeth climbed out and went about the barn with them, listening to all they had to say. The two men took out pencils and foot-rules, and went around measuring and figuring. Elizabeth watched them with bright, attentive eyes, putting a whispered suggestion now and then to her brother. They can't go up and down a ladder all the time, she whispered. There ought to be some rough stairs with a railing, at least as good as our back stairs at home. "'How about it?' said Graham, aloud to the contractor. "'Can you put in some steps, just rough ones, to the left? I'm going to have a party out here camping for a while this summer, and I want it to be safe. Need a railing, you know, so nobody will get a fall.' The man measured the space up with his eye. "'Just want some plain steps framed up with a handrail?' he said, squinting up again. "'Guess we'd better start them up this way to the back wall, and then turn back from a landing. That'll suit the overhead space best. Just pine you on, I suppose.' Elizabeth stood like a big blue bird, alighted on the door cell, watching and listening. She was a regular woman, and saw big possibilities in the building. She would have enjoyed ordering pocketry flooring and carved nule-posts and making a regular palace. The sun was setting behind the purpley hill and sending a glint from the weather-vane on the little white church spire when they started back to the city. Elizabeth looked wistfully toward it and wondered about the rapt expression on Shirley's face when she spoke of working in the church. How could one get any pleasure out of that? She meant to find out. At present her life was rather monotonous, and she longed to have some new interests. That night after she had gone to her luxurious little couch she lay in her downy nest and tried to think how it would be to live in that big barn and go to sleep up in the loft lying on that hay. Then suddenly the mystery of life was upon her with its big problems. Why, for instance, was she born into the Graham family, with money and culture and all the good times, and that sweet, bright, carol girl born into the Hollister family where they had a hard time to live at all. Quite early the next morning Sidney Graham was in his office at the telephone. He conferred with the carpenter, agreeing to meet him out at the barn and make final arrangements about the windows in a very short time. Then he called up the trolley company and the electric company and made arrangements with them to have a wire run from the road to his barn with a very satisfactory agreement whereby he could pay them a certain sum for the use of as much light as he needed. This done he called up an electrician and arranged that he should send some men out that morning to wire the barn. He hurried through his morning mail giving his stenographer a free hand with answering some of the letters, and then speeded out to Glunside. Three men were already there, two of them stone masons, working away under the direction of the contractor. They had already begun working at the massive stone around the windows, striking musical blows from a light scaffolding that made the old barn look as if it had suddenly waked up and gone to house cleaning. Sidney Graham surveyed it with satisfaction as he stopped his car by the roadside and got out. He did delight to have things done on time. He decided that if this contractor did well on the job he would see that he got bigger things to do. He liked it that his work had been begun at once. The next car brought a quartet of carpenters, and before young Graham went back to the city a motor-truck had arrived, loaded with lumber and window frames. It was all very fascinating to him, this new toy barn that had suddenly come into his possession, and he could hardly tear himself away from it and go back to business. One would not have supposed, perhaps, that it was so very necessary for him to do so, either, seeing that he was already so well off that he really could have gotten along quite comfortably the rest of his life without any more money. But he was a conscientious young man who believed that no living being had a right to exist in idleness, and who had gone into business from a desire to do his best and keep up the honorable name of his father's firm. So after he had given careful directions for the electric men when they should come, he rushed back to his office once more. The next two days were filled with delightful novelties. He spent much time flying from office to barn and back to the office again, and before evening of the second day he had decided that a telephone in the barn was an absolute necessity, at least while the work was going on. So he called up the telephone company and arranged that connection should be put in at once. That evening he wrote a short note to Miss Shirley Hollister, telling her that the partitions were under way and would soon be completed and that in a few days he would send her the key so that she might begin to transport her belongings to the new home. The next morning, when Graham went out to the stone barn, he found that the front windows were in, and gave a very inviting appearance to the edifice, both outside and in. As Elizabeth had surmised, the big, lattice windows opening inwards like casement doors seemed quite in keeping with the rough stone structure. Graham began to wonder why all barns did not affect the style of window they were so entirely attractive. He was thoroughly convinced that the new tenants would not be likely to remember or notice the difference in the windows. He was sure he shouldn't have unless his attention had been called to them in some way. Of course the sills and sashes were rather new looking, but he gave orders that they should at once be painted an unobtrusive dark green, which would well accord with the mossy roof, and he trusted his particular young tenant would not think that he had done anything pointed in changing the windows. If she did he would have to think up some excuse. But as he stood at the top of the grassy slope and looked about, he noticed the gray pile of stones under each window from the masonry that had been torn away to make room for the larger sashes, and an idea came to him. Mr. Jones! he called to the contractor who had just come over on the car to see how the work was progressing. Wouldn't there be stones enough altogether from all the windows to build some kind of a rude chimney and fireplace? He asked. Mr. Jones thought there would. There were stones enough down on the meadow to peace out with in case they needed more, anyway. Where would Mr. Graham want the fireplace? Directly opposite the front doors? He had thought of suggesting that himself, but didn't know as Mr. Graham wanted to go to any more expense. By all means make that fireplace, said the young owner delightedly. This is going to be a jolly place when it gets done, isn't it? I declare I don't know, but I'd like to come out here and live. It would make a fine old house, sir," said the contractor respectfully, looking up almost reverently at the barn. I'd like to see it with verandies and more windows, and a few such. You don't see many of these here old stone buildings around now. They knew how to build them substantial in those old times, so they did. Hmm, yes. It would make a fine sight for a house, wouldn't it? said the young man, looking about thoughtfully. Well, now. We'll have to think about that some time, perhaps. However, I think it looks very nice for the present. And he walked about looking at the improvements with great satisfaction. At each end of the barn a good room, long and narrow, had been partitioned off, each of which, by use of a curtain, would make two very large rooms, and yet the main section of the floor looked as large as ever. A simple stairway of plain boards had been constructed a little to one side of the middle toward the back, going up to the loft, which had been made safe for the children by a plain, rude railing consisting of a few uprights with strips across. The darkening slats at the small windows in the loft had been torn away, and shutters substituted that would open wide and let in air and light. Rough spots in the floor had been mended, and around the great place both upstairs and down, and even down in the basement underneath, electric wires ran with simple lights and switches conveniently arranged so that if it became desirable the whole place could be made a blaze of light. The young man did not like to think of this family of unprotected women and children coming out into the country without all the arrangements possible to make them feel safe. For this reason also he had established the telephone. He had talked it over with the agent, paying a certain sum for its installation, and had a telephone put in that they could pay for whenever they desired to use it. This would make the young householder feel more comfortable about leaving her mother out in the country all day, and also prevent her pride from being hurt. The telephone was there. She did not use it unless necessity arose. He felt he could explain that to her. If she didn't like it, of course she could have it taken away. There were a lot more things he would like to do to make the place more habitable, but he did not dare. Sometimes even now his conscience troubled him. What did he know about these people, anyway? And what kind of a flighty youth was he becoming? That he let a strange girl's appealing face drive him to such lengths as he was going now? Telephone and electric lights and stairs and a fireplace in a barn? It was all perfectly preposterous. And if his family should hear of it, he would never hear the last of it, that he was certain. At such times he would hunt up his young sister and carry her off for a long drive in the car, always ending up at Glenside Road, where she exclaimed and praised to his heart's satisfaction, and gave anew her word not to tell anybody a thing about it until he was ready. Indeed Elizabeth was wild with delight. She wanted to hunt up some of her mother's old Turkish rugs that were put away in dark closets, to decorate the walls with pictures and brick-a-brack from her own room, and to smother the place in flowering shrubs for the arrival of the tenants, but her brother firmly forbade anything more being done. He waited, with fear and trembling, for the time when the clear-eyed young tenant should look upon the changes he had already made. For something told him she would not stand charity, and there was a point beyond which he must not go if he wished ever to see her again. At last one morning he ventured to call her up on the telephone at her office. My sister and I were thinking of going out to see how things are progressing at the Glenside Place. He said after he had explained who he was, I was wondering if you would care to come along and look things over. What time do you get through at your office this afternoon? That is very kind of you, Mr. Graham, said Shirley, but I'm afraid that won't be possible. I'm not usually done until half-past five. I might get through by five, but not much sooner, and that would be too late for you. Not at all, Miss Hollister. That would be a very agreeable time. I have matters that will keep me here quite late tonight, and that will be just right for me. Shall I call for you then at five? Or is that too soon? Oh, no! I can be ready by then, I'm sure," said Shirley with suppressed excitement. You are very kind. Not at all. It will be a pleasure, came the answer. Then I will call at your office at five, and the receiver clicked at the other end, leaving Shirley in a whirl of doubt and joy. How perfectly delightful! And yet, ought she to go? Would mother think it was all right? His little sister was going, but was it quite right for her to accept this much attention, even in a business way? It wasn't at all customary or necessary, and both he and she knew it. He was just doing it to be nice. And then there was mother. She must send a message somehow, or mother would be frightened when she did not come home at her usual time. She finally succeeded in getting Carol at her school, and told her to tell mother she was kept late and might not be home till after seven. Then she flew at her work to get it out of the way before five o'clock. But when she came down at the appointed time, she found Carol sitting excitedly in the back seat with Elizabeth, fairly bursting with the double pleasure of the ride and of surprising her sister. They came to the school for me and took me home, and I explained to mother that I was going with you to look at a place we were going to move to. I put on the potatoes and put the meat in the oven, and mother was going to tell George just what to do to finish supper when he gets home. She exclaimed eagerly, and, oh, isn't it lovely? Indeed it is lovely, said Shirley, her face flushing with her, and her eyes speaking gratitude to the young man in the front seat who was opening the door for her to step in beside him. That was a wonderful ride. The spring had made tremendous advances in her work during the ten days since they went that way before. The flush of green that the willows had worn had become a soft bright feather of foliage, and the maples had sent out crimson tassels to offset them. Down in the meadows and along the roadside the grass was thick and green, and the bare brown fields had disappeared, little brooks sang tinklingly as they glided under bridges, and the birds darted here and there in busy, noisy pairs. Frail, wavering blossoms starred the swampy places, and the air was sweet with scents of living things. But when they came inside at the barn, Elizabeth and her brother grew silent, from sheer desire to talk and not act as if there were anything different about it. Now that they had actually brought Shirley here, the new windows seemed fairly to flaunt themselves in their shining, mossy paint, and their vast extent of diamond panes, so that the two conspirators were deeply embarrassed, and did not face what they had done. It was Carol who broke the silence that had come upon them all. Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! She shouted, Shirley, just look! New, great big windows! Isn't that great? Now you needn't worry whether it will be dark from other days when she can't go out. Is that the best ever? But Shirley looked, and her cheeks grew pink as her eyes grew starry. She opened her lips to speak, and then closed them again. For the words would not come, and the tears came instead, but she drove them back, and then managed to say, Oh! Mr. Graham! Oh! You have gone to so much trouble! No! No trouble at all! He said, almost crossly, for he had wanted her not to notice those windows, at least not yet. You see, it was this way. The windows were some that were left over from another order, and I got a chance to get them at a bargain. I thought they might as well be put in now, as any time, and you get the benefit of them. The barn really needed more light. It was a very dark barn, indeed, hadn't you noticed it? I can't see how my grandfather thought it would do, to have so little light and air. But you know in the old times they didn't use to have such advanced ideas about ventilation, and germs, and things. He felt he was getting on rather famously, until he looked down at the clear eyes of the girl, and knew she was seeing right straight through all his talk. However, she had the face to tell him so, and so he boldly held on his way, making up fine stories about things that barns needed, until he all but believed them himself, and when he got through, he need only to finish with, and if it isn't so, it ought to be, to have a regular water-baby argument out of it. He managed to talk on in this vein until he could stop the car and help Shirley out, and together they all went up the now-velvety green of the incline to the big door. It is beautiful, beautiful, Mermit Shirley, in a days of delight. She could not yet make it seem real that she was to come to this charm spot to live in a few days. Graham unlocked the big doors, and sent them rolling back with a touch, showing what ball-bearings and careful workmanship can do. The group stepped inside, and stood to look again. The setting sun was casting a red glow through the diamond panes and over the wide floor. The new partitions, guiltless of paint, for Graham had not dared to go further, were mellowed into ruby hangings. The stone fireplace rose at the opposite side of the room, and the new staircase was just at the side, all in the ruddy evening glow that carried rich dusky shadows into the corners, and hung a curtain of vagueness over blemishes. Then all suddenly, before they had had time to take in the changes, more than the fact of the partitions which they expected, Graham stepped to the side of the door and touched a button, and behold, a myriad of lights burst forth about the place, making it bright like noontime. Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Not at all, said young Graham quickly, this isn't anything. The electric people gave permission for this, and I thought it would be safer than lamps and candles, you know. It cost scarcely anything for the wiring. I had our regular man-do-it that attends to the wiring and lights at the office. It was a mere trifle, and will make things a lot more convenient for you. You see, it's nothing to the company. They just gave permission for a wire to be run from the pole there. Of course, they might not do it for everyone, but I have some pretty good friends in the company, so it's all right. But the fireplace, said Shirley going over to look at it, it's beautiful. It's like what you see in magazine pictures of beautiful houses. Why, it was just the stones that were left from cutting the windows larger. I thought they might as well be utilized, you know. It wasn't much more work to pile them up that way while the men were here than if we had had them carted away. Here, Carol interrupted. Shirley, there's a telephone, a real telephone! Shirley's accusing eyes were upon her landlord. She was put in for our convenience while the workmen were here. He explained defensively. It is a payphone, you see, and is no expense except when in use. It can be taken out if you do not care to have it, of course, but it occurred to me since it was here your mother might feel more comfortable out here all day if she could call you when she needed to. Shirley's face was a picture of varying emotions as she listened, but relief and gratitude conquered as she turned to him. I believe you have thought of everything, she said at last. I have worried about that all this week. I have wondered if mother would be afraid out in the country with only the children and the neighbors not quite near enough to call. But this solves the difficulty. You are sure it hasn't cost you a lot to have this put in? Why, don't you know the telephone company is glad to have their phones wherever they can get them? He evaded. Now don't worry about anything more. You'll find hardships enough living in a barn without fretting about the few conveniences we have been able to manage. But this is real luxury, she said, sitting down on the steps and looking up where the lights blazed from the loft. You have put lights up there, too, and are railing. I was so afraid Doris would fall down some time. I am glad to find you are human, after all, and have a few fears, to clear the owner laughing. I had begun to think you were spartan through and through, and weren't afraid of anything. Yes, I had the men put what lumber they had left into that railing. I thought it wasn't safe to have it all open like that. But I didn't want you to sue me for life or limb, you know. There's one thing I haven't managed yet, and that is piping water up from the spring. I haven't been able to get hold of the right man so far, but he's coming out tomorrow, and I hope it can be done. There is a spring on the hill back of us, and I believe it is high enough to get the water to this floor. If it is, it will make your work much easier and be only the matter of a few rods of pipe. Oh, but indeed you mustn't do anything more pleaded surely. I shall feel so ashamed paying such a little rent. But, my dear young lady," said Graham in his most dignified business manner, you don't at all realize how much lower rents are in the country, isolated like this, than they are in the city, and you haven't as yet realized what a lot of inconveniences you will have to put up with. When you go back to the city in the winter, you will be glad to get away from here. "'Never,' said Shirley fervently and shuddered. "'Oh, never! You don't know how dreadful it seems that we shall have to go back. But of course I suppose we shall. One couldn't live in a barn in the winter, even though it is a palace for the summer, and she looked about wistfully. Then, her eyes lighting up, she set in a low tone for the young man's benefit alone. I think God must have made you do all this for us.' She turned and walked swiftly over to one of the new casement windows, looking out at the red glow that the sun in sinking had left in the sky, and there against the fringes of the willows and maples, shone out the bright weather-vane on the spire of the little white church in the valley. "'I think God must have sent you to teach me and my little sister a few things,' said a low voice just behind Shirley, as she struggled with tired, happy tears that would blur her eyes. But when she turned to smile at the owner of the voice, he was walking over by the door and talking to Carol. They tumbled joyously into the car very soon, and sped on their way to the city again. That night the Hollister children told their mother they had found a place in which to live. CHAPTER 10 The crisis was precipitated by Shirley's finding her mother crying when she came up softly to see her. "'Now, little mother dear, what can be the matter?' she cried aghast, sitting down on the bed and drawing her mother's head into her lap. But it was some time before Mrs. Hollister could recover her calmness, and Shirley began to be frightened. At last, when she had kissed and petted her, she called down to the others to come upstairs quickly. They came with all haste, George and Harley with dish-towels over their shoulders, Carol with her arithmetic and pencil, little Doris trudging up breathless one step at a time, and all crying excitedly. "'What's the matter?' "'Why, here's a blessed little mother lying here all by herself, crying, because she doesn't know where in the world we can find a house,' cried Shirley. "'And I think it's time we told our beautiful secret, don't you?' "'Yes,' coerced the children, although Harley and Doris had no idea until then, that there was any beautiful secret. Beautiful secrets hadn't been coming their way.' "'Well, I think we better tell it,' said Shirley, looking at George and Carol questioningly. "'Don't you? We don't want mother worrying.' So they all clustered around her on the bed and the floor, and sat expectantly while Shirley told. "'You see, mother, it's this way. We've been looking around a good deal lately, George and I, and we haven't found a thing in the city that would do. So one day I took a trolley-ride out of the city, and I've found something I think will do nicely for the summer anyway, and that will give us time to look around and decide. Mother dear, would you mind camping so very much, if we made you a nice comfortable place?' "'Camping,' said Mrs. Hollister in dismay, "'Dear child, in a tent?' "'No, mother, not in a tent. There's a—a—sort of a house, that is, there's a building where we could sleep and put our furniture and all. But there's a lovely out-of-doors. Wouldn't you like that for Doris and you?' "'Oh, yes,' sighed the poor woman, "'I'd like it, but child, you haven't any idea what you're talking about. Any place in the country costs terribly. Even a shanty.' "'That's it, mother, call it a shanty,' put in Carol. "'Mother, would you object to living in a shanty all summer if it was good and clean, and you had plenty of out-of-doors around it?' "'No, of course not, Carol, if it was perfectly respectable. I shouldn't want to take my children among a lot of low-down people.' "'Of course not, mother,' put in Shirley, "'and there's nothing of that sort. It's all perfectly respectable, and the few neighbors are nice respectable people. Now, mother, if you're willing to trust us, we'd like it if you'll just let us leave it at that and not tell you anything more about it till we take you there. George and Carol and I have all seen the place, and we think it will be just the thing. There's plenty of room and sky and a big tree and birds, and it only costs ten dollars a month. Now, mother, will you trust us for the rest and not ask any questions?' The mother looked and bewilderment from one to another, and seeing the eager faces she broke into a weary smile. "'Well, I'll suppose I'll have to,' she said with a sigh of doubt. "'But I can't understand how any place you could get would be only that price, and I'm afraid you haven't thought of a lot of things.' "'Yes, mother, we've thought of everything, and then some,' said Shirley, stooping down to kiss her cheek, "'but we assure you are going to like this when you see it. It isn't a palace, of course. You don't expect play-glass windows, you know.' "'Well, hardly,' said Mrs. Hollister dryly, struggling with herself to be cheerful. She could see that her children were making a brave effort to make a jolly occasion out of their necessity, and she was never one to hang back. So, as she could do nothing else, she assented. "'You are sure?' she began, looking at Shirley with troubled eyes. "'There are so many things to think of, and you are so young.' "'Trust me, mother, dearie,' said Shirley joyously, remembering the fireplace and the electric lights. It really isn't so bad, and there's a beautiful hill for Doris to run down, and a place to hang a hammock for you, and under a big tree where a bird has built its nest. "'Oh!' echoed the wondering Doris, "'and could I see the birdie?' "'Yes, darling, you can watch him every day, and see him fly through the blue sky.' "'It's all right, mother,' said George in a business-like tone. "'You'll think it's great after you get used to it. Carol and I are crazy over it. But will it be where you can get to your work, both of you? I shouldn't like you to take long lonely walks, you know,' said troubled mother. "'Right on the trolley-line, mother, dear, and the difference in rent will more than pay a fare. Besides, I'm thinking of buying a bicycle from one of the fellows. He says he'll sell it for five dollars, and I can pay fifty cents a month. Then I could go in on my bike in good weather and save that much. This from George.' "'Oh, gee!' said Harley breathlessly, then I could ride it sometimes, too.' "'Sure,' said George generously. "'Now,' said Shirley, with her commanding manner that the children called Brigadier General, "'Now, mother, dear, you're going to put all your worries out of your head right this minute and go to sleep. Your business is to get strong enough to be moved out there. When you get there, you'll get well so quick you won't know yourself. But you've got to rest from now on every minute, or you won't be able to go when the time comes. And then what will happen? Will you promise?' Amid the laughing and pleading of her children, the mother promised, half smilingly, half tearfully, and succumbed to being prepared for the night. Then they all tiptoed away to the dining-room for a council of war. It was still two weeks before they had to vacate the Little Brick House, plenty of time to get comfortably settled before they took their mother out there. It was decided that George and Shirley should go out the next evening, directly from their work, not waiting to return for supper, but eating a lunch downtown. Now that the place was lighted, and they had been told to use the light as freely as they chose, with no charge, the question of getting settled was no longer a problem. They could do it evenings after their work was over. The first thing would be to clean house, and for that they needed a lot of things—pales, pans, brums, mops, and the like. It would be good to take a load of things out the next day, if possible. So George went out to interview the man with the moving wagon, while Shirley and Carol made out a list of things that ought to go in that first load. George came back with the report that the man could come at half-pass four in the afternoon, and if they could have the things that were to go already, he would have his son help to load them, and they could get out to Glenside by six o'clock or seven at the latest. Harley might go along if he liked, and help to unload at the other end. Harley was greatly excited, both at the responsibility placed upon him, and at the prospect of seeing the new home. It almost made up for the thought of leaving the fellows, and going to live in a strange place. The young people were late getting to bed that night, for they had to get things together so that Carol would not have her hands too full the next day when she got home from school. Then they had to hunt up soap, scrubbing pails, rags, brushes, and brums. And when they went to bed at last they were much too excited to sleep. Of course there were many hindrances to their plans, and a lot of delay waiting for the cartman, who did not always keep his word, but the days passed and everyone saw some little progress toward making a home out of the big barn. Surely would not let them stay later in the evenings than ten o'clock, for they must be ready to go to work the next morning. So of course the work of cleaning the barn progressed but slowly. After the first night they got a neighbor to sit with their mother and Doris, letting Carol and Harley come out on the car to help. And so with four willing workers the barn gradually took on a nice smell of soap and water. The old furniture arrived little by little and was put in place eagerly, until by the end of the first week the big middle room in the dining room and kitchen began really to look like living. It was Saturday evening of that first week and Shirley was sitting on the old couch at the side of the fireplace resting, watching George who was reeling out a stormy version of chopsticks on the piano, and looking about on her growing home hopefully. Suddenly there came a gentle tapping at the big barn door, and George, as the man of the house, went to the door with his gruffest air on, but melted at once when he saw the landlord and his sister standing out in front in the moonlight. "'Are you ready for callers?' asked Graham, taking off his hat and greeting. Elizabeth and I took a spin out this way, and we sighted the light and thought we'd stop and see if we could help any. My, how home-like you've made it look! Say, this is great!' Sydney Graham stood in the center of the big room, looking about him with pleasure. The young people had put things in apple-pie order as far as they had gone. A fire was laid in the big stone fireplace, all ready for touching off, and gave a home-like, cleared-up look to the whole place as if it were getting ready for some event. On each side of the chimney stood a simple set of bookshelves filled with well-worn volumes that had a look of being beloved and in daily intimate association with the family. On the top of the shelves Carol had placed some bits of bric-a-brac, and in the center of each a tall vase. Beside them were a few photographs and simple frames, a strong-faced man with eyes that reminded one of Shirley and a brow like George's, a delicate-featured, refined woman with sweet sensitive mouth and eyes like Carol's, a lovely little child with a cloud of fair curls. The old couch was at one side of the fireplace, at a convenient angle to watch the fire-light and yet not hiding the bookshelves. On the other side, with its back toward the first landing of the rude staircase, stood an old upright piano, with a pile of shabby music on the top and a book of songs open on the rack. On the floor in the space between was spread a worn and faded ingrained rug, its original colors and pattern long since blended into neutral grays and browns, which strangely harmonized with the rustic surroundings. A few comfortable but shabby chairs were scattered about in a home-like way, and a few pictures in plain frames were hung on the clean new partitions. Under one stood a small oak desk and a few writing materials. A little further on a plain library table held a few magazines and papers, and a cherished book or two. There had been no attempt to cover the wide bare floor spaces, saved by a small dingy rug or two, or a strip of carpet carefully brushed and flung here and there in front of a chair. There was no pretension, and therefore no incongruity. The only luxurious thing in the place was the bright electric light, and yet it all looked pleasant and inviting. Say now, this is great," reiterated the young owner of the place, sinking into the nearest chair and looking about him with admiration. Who would ever have imagined you could make a barn look like this? Why, you're a genius, Miss Hollister! You're a real artist. Surely in an old gingham dress with her sleeves rolled high and her half-luffing wilfully in disorder about her hot cheeks stood before him in dismay. She had been working hard, and was all too conscious of the brief time before they must be done, and to have company just now, and such company, put her to confusion, but the honest admiration in the young man's voice did much to restore her equilibrium. She began to pull down her sleeves and sit down to receive her collars properly, but he at once insisted that she should not delay on his account, and seeing her shyness immediately plunged into some questions about the water-pipes, which brought about a more business-like footing and relieved her embarrassment. He was soon on his way to the partitioned corner which was to be the kitchen, telling Shirley how it was going to be no trouble to run a pipe from the spring and have a faucet put in, and that it should be done on the morrow. Then he called to Elizabeth. "'Kid, what did you do with those eats you brought along? I think it would be a good time to hand them out. I'm hungry. Suppose you take George out to the car to help you bring them in, and let's have a picnic?' Then, turning to Shirley, he explained, "'Elizabeth and I are great ones, to have something along to eat. It makes one hungry to ride, you know. The children needed no second word, but all hurried out to the car, and came back with a great bag of most delicious oranges and several boxes of fancy cakes and crackers, and they all sat down to enjoy them, laughing and chattering, not at all like landlord and tenants. "'Now, what's to do next?' demanded the landlord as soon as the rapast was finished. "'I'm going to help. We're not here to hinder, and we must make up for the time we have stopped you. What were you and George doing, Miss Carol, when we arrived?' "'Unpacking dishes,' giggled Carol, looking as scants at the frowning Shirley, who was shaking her head at Carol behind Graham's back. Shirley had no mind to have the elegant landlord see the dismal state of the Hollister Crockery. But the young man was not to be so easily put off, and to Carol's secret delight insisted upon helping, despite Shirley's most earnest protests, that it was not necessary to do anything more that evening. He and Elizabeth repaired to the dining-rument of the barn, and helped unpack dishes, pans, kettles, knives and forks, and arranged them on the shelves that George had improvised out of a large old bookcase that used to be his father's. After all, there was something in good breeding, thought Shirley, for from the way in which Mr. Graham handled the old cracked dishes and set them up so nicely, you never would have known but that they would havele in China. He never seemed to see them at all when they were cracked. One might have thought that he had been a member of the family for years. He made things seem so nice and comfortable and sociable. Merrily they worked, and accomplished wonders that night, for Shirley let them stay until nearly eleven o'clock, just for once, and then they all piled into the car, Shirley and Carol and Elizabeth in the backseat, George and the happy Harley with Graham in the front. If there had been seven more of them, they would have all happily squeezed in. The young Hollisters were having the time of their lives, and as for the Graham's, it wasn't quite certain but that they were also. Certainly society had never seen on Sidney Graham's face that happy, enthusiastic look of intense satisfaction that the moon looked down upon that night, and after all they got home almost as soon as if they had gone on the ten o'clock trolley. After that, on one pretext or another, those Graham's were always dropping in on the Hollisters at their work and managing to help, and presently even Shirley ceased to be annoyed or to apologize. The east end of the barn had been selected for bedrooms. A pair of Cretan curtains was stretched across the long narrow room from wall to partition, leaving the front room for their mother's bed and Doris' crib, and the back room for Shirley and Carol. The boys had taken possession of the loft, with many shouts and elaborate preparations, and had spread out their treasures with deep delight, knowing that at least there was room enough for their proper display, and they need feel no fear that they would be thrown out because their place was wanted for something more necessary. Little by little the Hollisters were getting settled. It was not so hard, after all, because there was that glorious big attic in which to put away things that were not needed below, and there was the whole basement for tubs and things, and a lovely faucet down there, too, so that a lot of work could be done below the living-floor. It seemed just ideal to the girls, who had been for several years accustomed to the cramped quarters of a tiny city house. At last even the beds were made up, and everything had been moved but the bed and a few necessities in their mother's home, which were to come the next day while they were moving their mother. That moving of mother had been a great problem to Shirley, until Graham anticipated her necessity, and said, in a matter-of-fact way, that he hoped Mrs. Hollister would let him take her to her new home in his car. Then Shirley's eyes filled with tears of gratitude. She knew her mother was not yet able to travel comfortably in a trolley-car, and the price of a taxi cab was more than she felt they ought to afford. But in her secret heart she had been intending to get one, but now there would be no necessity. Shirley's words of gratitude were few and simple, but there was something in her eyes as she lifted them to Graham's face that made a glow in his heart and fully repaid him for his trouble. The last thing they did when they left the barn that night, before they were coming to stay, was to set the table, and it really looked very cozy and inviting with white cloth on it, and the dishes set out to look their best. Shirley looked back at it with a sweeping glance that took in the great comfortable living-room, the open door into the dining-room on one hand, and the vista of a white bed on the other side through the bedroom door. She smiled happily, and then switched off the electric light, and stepped out into the sweet-spring night. Graham, who had stood watching her as one might watch the opening of some strange, unknown flower, closed and locked the door behind them, and followed her down the grassy slope to the car. "'Do you know,' he said earnestly, "'it's been a great thing to me to watch you make a real home out of this bare barn. It's wonderful. It's like a miracle. I wouldn't have believed it could be done. And you have done it so wonderfully. I can just see what kind of a delightful home it is going to be. There was something in his tone that made Shirley forget he was rich, and a stranger, and her landlord. She lifted her face to the stars and spoke her thoughts. You can't possibly know how much like heaven it is going to be to us after coming from that other awful little house,' she said, and you are the one who has made it possible. If it hadn't been for you, I know I never could have done it. Oh, nonsense, Miss Hollister. You mustn't think of it. I haven't done anything at all. Just the simplest things that were absolutely necessary. Oh, I understand,' said Shirley, and I can't ever repay you. But I think God will. That is the kind of thing the kingdom of heaven is made of. Oh, really now, said Graham, deeply embarrassed. He was not much accustomed to being connected with the kingdom of heaven in any way. Oh, really, you—you overestimate it. And as for pay, I don't ask any better than the fund my sister and I have had, helping you get settled. It has been a great play for us. We never really moved, you see. We've always gone off and had someone do it for us. I've learned a lot since I've known you. That night, as she prepared to lie down on the mattress and blanket that had been left behind for herself and Carol to camp out on, Shirley remembered her first worries about Mr. Graham, and wondered whether it could be possible that he thought she had been forward in any way, and what her mother would think when she heard the whole story of the new landlord. For up to this time the secret had been beautifully kept from her mother. All the children joining, to clap their hands over wayward mouths that started to utter tell-tale sentences, and the mystery grew, and became almost like Christmas time for Little Doris and her mother. It must, however, be stated that Mrs. Hollister that last night, as she lay wakeful on her bed in the little bedroom in the tiny house, had many misgivings, and wondered whether, perchance, she would not be sighing to be back even here twenty-four hours later. She was holding her peace wonderfully, because there really was nothing she could do about it even if she were going out of the frying-pan into the fire, but the tumult and worry in her heart had been, by no means, bliss. So the midnight drew on, and the weary family slept for the last night in the cramped old house where they had lived since trouble and poverty had come upon them. CHAPTER XI Shirley was awake early that morning, almost too excited to sleep but fitfully even through the night. Now that the thing was done, and they were actually moved into a barn, she began to have all sorts of fears and compunctions concerning it. She seemed to see her delicate mother shrink, as from a blow, when she first learned that they had come to this. Try as she would to bring back all the sensible philosophy that had caused her to enter into this affair in the first place. She simply could not feel anything but trouble. She longed to rush into her mother's room, tell her all about it, and get the dreaded episode over. But anyhow it was inevitable now. They were moved. They had barely enough money to pay the cartage and get things started before next payday. There was nothing for it but to take her mother there, even if she did shrink from the idea. Of course mother had always been sensible and all that. But somehow the burden of the great responsibility of decision rested so heavily upon her young shoulders that morning that it seemed as if she could no longer bear the strain. They still had a good fire in the kitchen range, and surely hastened to the kitchen, prepared a delicate piece of toast, a poached egg, a cup of tea, and took it to her mother's room, tiptoeing lightly lest she still slept. But the mother was awake and glad to see her. She had been awake since the first streak of dawn had crept into the little back window. She had the look of one who was girded for the worst. But when she saw her daughter's face, the mother and her triumphed over the woman. What's the trouble, little girl? Has something happened?" The tenderness in her voice was the last straw that broke Shirley's self-control. The tea is suddenly sparing into her eyes, and her lip trembled. Oh, mother! She wailed, setting the tray down quickly on a box, and fumbling for her handkerchief. I'm so worried. I'm so afraid you won't like what we've done, and then what shall we do? I shall like it, said mother with instant determination. Don't for a minute think of anything else. Having done something irrevocably, never look back and think you might have done something better. You did the best you could, or you thought you did anyway, and there didn't seem to be anything else at the time. So now just consider it was the very best thing in the world, and don't go to fretting about it. There'll be something nice about it, I'm sure, and goodness knows we've had enough unpleasant things here, so we'd needn't expect beds of roses. We are just going to make it nice, little girl. Remember that. We are going to like it. There's a tree there, you say. So when we find things we don't like, we'll just go out and look up at our tree and say, We've got you, anyway, and we're glad of it. You blessed little mother-loft, Shirley, wiping her tears away. I just believe you will like it, maybe after all, though I've had a lot of compunctions all night. I wondered if maybe I oughtn't to have told you all about it. Maybe I knew you couldn't really judge at all until you had seen it yourself, and we wanted to surprise you. Well, I'm determined to be surprised," said the brave little woman. So don't you worry. We're going to have a grand good time today. Now run along. It's almost time for your car, and you haven't had any breakfast yet. Shirley kissed her mother, and went smiling down to eat her breakfast and hurry away to the office. There was a big rush of work at the office, or Shirley would have asked for a half-holiday. But she did not dare endanger her position by making a request at so busy a season. She was glad that the next day was Sunday, and they would have a whole day to themselves in the new home, before she would have to hurry away to the office again. It would serve to make it seem less lonely for her mother, having them all home that first day. She meant to work fast today, and get all the letters written before five, if possible. Then she would have time to get home a few minutes before Graham arrived with his car, and see that her mother was all comfortably ready. It was a good deal to put upon Carol to look after everything. It wasn't as if they had neighbors to help out a little, for they were the very last tenants in the doomed block to leave. All the others had gone two or three weeks before. Thinking over again, all the many details for the day, Shirley walked down to the office through the sunshine. It was growing warm weather, and her coat felt oppressive already. She was so thankful that her mother would not have to sleep in those breathless rooms after the heat began. The doctor had said that her mother needed rest, and air, and plenty of sunshine more than anything else. She would at least have those at the barn, and what did other things matter after all? Mother was game. Mother wouldn't let herself feel badly over such a silly thing. They certainly were going to be more comfortable than they had been for several years. Think of that wonderful electric light, and clear cold water from the spring. Oh, it was great, and a little thrill of ecstasy passed over her. The first she had let herself feel since she had taken the great responsibility of transplanting her family to a barn. After all, the day passed very quickly, and when at half-past four the telephone bell rang, and Graham's voice announced that he would be down at the street door waiting for her in half an hour, that she'd needn't hurry, he would wait till she was ready. Her heart gave a little jump of joy. It was as if school was out, and she was going on a real picnic like other girls. How nice of him! How perfectly lovely of him! And yet there hadn't been anything but the nicest friendliness in his voice, such as any kindly-disposed landlord might use if he chose. Nothing that she need feel uncomfortable about. At least there was the relief that after to-night mother would know all about it, and if she didn't approve Shirley could decline any further kindness, of course. And now she was just going to take mother's advice and forget everything but the pleasant part. At home Carol and Harley bustled about in the empty house like two excited bumble-bees, washing up the few dishes, putting in an open box everything that had been left out for their last night's sleeping, getting lunch, and making mother take a nap. Doris, vibrating between her mother's room and downstairs, kept singing over to herself, We go into Tantri, we go into Tantri, see birdies and tweeds and walk on green grass. After lunch was over and the dishes were put carefully into the big box, between comfortables and blankets, Carol helped her mother to dress, and then made her lie down and take a good long nap, with Doris asleep by her side. After that Carol and Harley tiptoed down to the bear kitchen, and sat on a box, side by side to converse. "'Gee, ain't you tired, Carol?' said the boy, pushing his hair back from his hot face. "'Gee, don't it seem funny we aren't coming back here any more? It kind of gets my goat, I shan't see the fellow so often, but it'll be great to ask him to see us sometimes. Say, do you suppose we really can keep chickens?' "'Sure,' said Carol convincingly. I asked Mr. Graham if we might. George said we ought to. He was such a good scout, you'd want to be sure he'd like it. And he said, sure, it would be great. He'd like to come out and see them sometimes. He said he used to keep chickens himself when he was a kid, and he shouldn't wonder if they had a few too many at their place they could spare to start with. He told me he'd look it up and see, soon as we got settled. "'Gee, he's a peach, isn't he? Say, has he got a case on Cheryl?' "'I don't know,' said the girl thoughtfully. Maybe he has, but he doesn't know it yet, I guess. But anyhow, you must promise me you will never breathe such a word, why, surely, would just bust right up if you did. I said a little something to her like that once. It wasn't much, only just that he was awfully nice, and I guess he liked her by the way he looked at her, and she just fairly froze. You know the way her eyes get when she's sore at us?' And she said, I must never, never even think anything like that, or she would give the place right up and get a few rooms down on South Street and stay in the city all summer.' She said Mr. Graham was a gentleman, and she was only a working girl, and it would be a disgrace for her to accept any favors from him, except what she could pay for, and an insult for him to offer them, because she was only a working girl, and he was a gentleman, you know. Hmm! growled Harley. I guess our sister's as good as he is, any day. "'Of course,' snapped Carol, but then he might not think so. Well, if he don't, you can go to Thunder, bristled Harley, wrathfully. I'm not going to have him looking down on Shirley. She's as good as his baby-doll's sister, with her pink cheeks and her little white hands, and her high heels and ears, any day. She's a nut she is.' "'Harley, you start,' declared Carol, getting wrathful. Elizabeth's a dear, and you're not going to talk about her that way. Just because she's pretty and doesn't have to work. Well, you said her brother looked down on our sister,' declared Harley. "'I did not. I only said he might. I only meant that was the way some gentleman would. I only said people kind of expect gentlemen to do that. Not if they're real gentlemen, they won't, and anyhow he won't. If I find him looking down on my sister Shirley, I'll punch his face for him. Yes, I will. I'm not afraid. George and I could beat the stuffing out of him, and we will if he doesn't need looking down stunts, and don't you forget it. Well, I'm sure he doesn't,' said Carol pacifically, trying to put a soothing sound into her voice as wise elder sisters learn to do. You see, if he did look down on her, Shirley would know it. Right away she'd know it. Nobody would have to tell her. She'd see it in his voice and smile and everything. And if he had, she wouldn't have gone out there to live in the place he owns, you know. So I guess you can trust Shirley. I think he's been just dandy, fixing up that fireplace and stairs and lights and water and everything. "'Well, maybe,' said Harley grudgingly, "'say, this is slow. I'm going out to meet the fellows when they come from school, and see what the score of the game is. Gee, I wish I could play to-day.' "'You'll be sure to come back in time?' asked Carol anxiously. "'Sure. You don't suppose I'd miss going out in that car, do you?' said the brother contemptuously. "'Not on your Tim-type.' "'Well, maybe there won't be room for you. Maybe Elizabeth will come along, and you'll have to go in the trolley with George.' "'No chance,' declared the boy. "'Mr. Graham said I should ride with him in the front seat. He looks like a man that kept his word. "'You see, you know he's a gentleman,' triumphed Carol. "'Well, I think you'd better stay here with me. You'll forget and be late and make a mess waiting for you.' "'No, I won't,' said the restless boy. "'I can't be bothered sticking round this dump all afternoon.' And Harley seized his cap and disappeared with a whoop around the corner. After he was gone, Carol found she was tied out herself, and curling up on a mattress that was lying ready for the cartman, was soon asleep. It was so that Harley found her when he hurried back an hour later, a trifle anxious it must be confessed, lest he had stayed too long. He stirred up the small household noisily, and in no time had Carol in a panic brewing the cup of tea that was to give her mother the strength to take the journey, dressing Doris, smoothing her own hair, putting the last things into bags and baskets and boxes, and directing the cartman, who arrived half an hour sooner than he promised. Carol was quite a little woman, going from one thing to another, and taking the place of everybody. Meantime Elizabeth Graham and her brother had been spending the afternoon in business of their own. It was Elizabeth who had suggested it, and her brother saw no reason why she should not carry out her plan, and why he should not help her. She came down in the car after lunch, the chauffeur driving her, a great basket of cotton-potted flowers from the home conservatory in the tunnel beside her, kiffly-wrapped in wax paper. She stopped at the office for her brother, and together they went about to several shops, giving orders and making purchases. When they had finished, they drove out to Glenside to unpack their bundles and baskets. Graham left Elizabeth with the old servant to help her, and drove rapidly back to his office where he telephoned to Shirley. Certainly Elizabeth had never had such fun in her life. She scarcely knew which delightful thing to do first, and she had only about two hours to complete her arrangements before the family would arrive. She decided to decorate first, and the great hamper of flowers was forthwith brought into the barn, and the chauffeur set to work twining ropes and sprays of similax and asparagus fern over doorways and pictures, and training it like a vine about the stone chimney. Then came the flowers, pots of tall starry lilies, great heavy-headed, exquisite-breathed roses, pink, white, yellow, brown crimson, daffodils and sweet peas, with quantities of sweet violets in the bottom of the basket. Elizabeth with deft fingers selected the flowers skillfully, putting pots of lilies on the window-sills, massing a quantity of pink roses in a dull-gray jar she found among the kitchen things. That looked to the initiated, amazingly, as though it might have once been part of a water-filter, but it suited the pink roses wonderfully. The tall vases on the bookcase, each side of the fireplace, filled daffodils. Sweet peas were glowing in small vases, in glasses and bowls, in violets and saucers, filled the air with fragrance. White and yellow roses were on the dining-table, and three exquisite, tall crimson rose-buds glowed in a slender-glass vase Elizabeth had brought with her. This she placed in Mrs. Hollister's room on the little stand that she judged would be placed beside the bed when the bed arrived. The flowers certainly did give an atmosphere to the place in more senses than one, and the girl was delighted and fluttered from one spot to another, changing the position of a vase or a bowl, and then standing off to get the effect. Now bring me the big bundle, Jenkins, please. She sat at length when she was satisfied with the effect. Oh! And the little long box! Be careful! It is broken at one end, and the screws may fall out. Jenkins was soon back with the things. Now you get the rods put up at the windows, Jenkins, while I get out the curtains. And she untied the big bundle with eager fingers. Jenkins was adaptable, and the rods were simple affairs. He was soon at work, and Elizabeth ran the rods into the curtains. They were not elegant curtains. Graham had insisted that she should get nothing elaborate, nothing that would be out of keeping with the simplicity. They were soft and straight and creamy, with a frost-like pattern rambling over them in threads of the same, illuminated here and there with a single rose and a leaf in color. It was something cheerful and spring-like to them, and yet they looked exceedingly plain and suitable. No ruffles or trimming of any kind, just hems. To Elizabeth's mind they had been very cheap. Shirley would have exclaimed over their beauty wistfully and turned from them with a gasp when she heard their price. They were one of those quiet-fitting things that cost without flaunting it. They transformed the room into a dream. Oh! Isn't it beautiful? exclaimed Elizabeth, standing back to look as the first curtain went up. Miss, miss? It's a very stunning miss, said the man working away with good will in his face. When the curtains were all up, Elizabeth pinned one of her cards to the curtain nearest the front door, inscribed, with love, from Elizabeth. Then, in a panic, she looked at her watch. Oh! Jenkins! It's almost six o'clock! she cried in dismay. They might get here by half past, perhaps. We must hurry. Bring the other things in quick now, please! So Jenkins brought them in, bundles and bags and boxes, and ice-cream-freezer, and, last of all, the cooking outfit belonging to their touring car. No! You get the hot things ready, Jenkins, while I fix the table! directed the girl. Jenkins, well-trained in such things, went to work, opening cans and starting his chafing-dish fire. Elizabeth, with eager fingers, opened her parcels. A great platter of delicious, triangular chicken sandwiches, a dish of fruit-nut salad, surrounded by crisp lettuce leaves, a plate of delicate rolls, cream puffs, chocolate eclairs, macaroons, a coconut pie, things she liked herself. And then, because she knew no feast without them, there were olives, salted almonds, and bonbons as a matter of course. Delicious odors from the kitchen end of the room began to fill the air. Jenkins was heeding a pail of rich soup, chicken with rice and gumbo, from one of the best caterers in the city. He was making rich cocoa to be eaten with whipped cream that Elizabeth was pouring into a glass pitcher. The pitcher came from the ten-cent store, if she had only known it. Jenkins was cooking canned peas, and heeding lovely little brown potato croquettes. The ice-cream freezer was out in full sight, where they could never miss it. Everything was ready now. Jenkins, you better light up that queer stove of theirs now if you show you know how. She said it was just like lamp the way it worked, and put those things in the oven to keep warm. Then we'll pack up our things and hide them out in the grass where they can't see, and get them in the car when they get out. Hurry! For they'll be here very soon now, I think. Elizabeth stuck a card in the middle of the rose-bowl that said in pretty letters, welcome home, stood back a minute to see how everything looked, and then flooded to the door to watch for the car. CHAPTER XII. When Shirley came down to the street at five o'clock, Graham was waiting for her, as he promised, and swung the car door open for her, with as much eagerness as if he were taking the girl of his choice on a picnic, instead of just doing a poor little stenographer, a kiss. I telephoned to the store, and sent a message to George, we're going to pick him up on our way. He said, as the car wended its way skillfully through the traffic. She was sitting beside him, and he looked down at her as if they were partners in a pleasant scheme. A strange sense of companionship with him thrilled through her, and was properly rebuked and fled at once, without really rippling the surface of her joy much. She had determined to have the pleasure out of this one evening ride at least, and would not let her thoughts play truant to suggest what wider, sweeter realms might be for other girls. She was having this good time. It was for her and no one else, and she would just enjoy it as much as she could, and keep it the sweet, sane, innocent pleasure that it really was. If she was not a fool, everything would be all right. George was waiting in a quiver of pride and eagerness for them, as they swept up to the employee's entrance in a line of admiring fellow-labors, stood gaping on the sidewalk to watch his departure. "'Aw, gee! Isn't this great!' shouted George, climbing into the back seat hilariously. Got a whole omnibus of a car this time, haven't you?' Yes. I thought we'd have plenty of room for your mother, so she could lie down if she liked. "'That was very kind of you, Mermit Shirley. You think of everything, don't you? I'm sure I don't see how we ever could have managed without your help. I should have been frightened a dozen times and been ready to give up.' "'Not you,' said Graham fervently, "'you are the kind that never gives up. You've taught me several valuable lessons.' As they turned the corner into the old street where the little brick-house stood, Shirley suddenly began to have a vivid realization that she had told her mother nothing whatever about Mr. Graham. What would she think? And how could she explain his presence? She had expected to get there before Graham arrived, and have time enough to make her mother understand. But now she began to realize that her real reason for leaving the matter, yet unexplained, was that she did not know just what to say without telling the whole story from beginning to end. "'I'll hurry in and see if mother is all ready,' she said, as the car stopped in front of the house, and the children rushed out eagerly, Doris just behind the others to see, the boo-foot ah! "'Mother,' said Shirley, slipping softly into the house and going over to the bed, where she lay with hat and coat on, fully ready. "'Mother, I shan't have time to explain all about it, but it's all right, so don't think anything. Mr. Graham, the man who owns the place where we are going, has been kind enough to offer to take you in his car. He thinks it will be easier for you than the trolley, and he is out of the door now, waiting. It's perfectly all right. He has been very kind about it. "'Oh, daughter, I couldn't think of troubling anyone like that,' said the mother, shrinking from the thought of a stranger. But looking up, she saw him standing, hat in hand, just in the doorway. The children had led him to the door, when he offered to help their mother out to the car. "'Mother, this is Mr. Graham,' said Shirley. Mrs. Hollister, a little pink spot in each cheek, tried to rise, but the young man came forward instantly and stooped over her. "'Don't try to get up, Mrs. Hollister. Your daughter tells me you haven't been walking about for several weeks. You must reserve all your strength for the journey. Just trust me. I'm perfectly strong, and I can lift you and put you into the car, almost without your knowing it. I often carry my own mother upstairs just for fun, and she's quite a lot larger and heavier than you. Just let me put my hand under your back so, and now this hand here. Now if you'll put your arms around my neck—yes, yes, that way, no, don't be afraid. I'm perfectly strong, and I won't drop you. Little Mrs. Hollister cast a frightened look at her daughter, and another at the fine, strong face bent above her, felt herself lifted like thisledown, before she had had time to protest, and found herself obediently putting her weak arms around his neck and resting her frightened head against a strong shoulder. A second more, and she was lying on the soft cushions of the car, and the young man was piling pillows about her and tucking her up with soft, furry robes. "'Are you perfectly comfortable?' he asked anxiously. "'I didn't strain your back or tire you, did I?' "'Oh, no indeed,' said the bewildered woman. "'You are very kind, and I hardly knew what you were doing till I was here. I never dreamed of anything like this. Surely didn't tell me about it.' "'No,' said the young man, smiling. She said she wanted to surprise you, and I believe she thought you might worry a little if you heard the details of the journey. "'Now, kitten, are you ready to get in?' He turned a smiling face to Doris, who stood solemnly waiting her turn, with an expression of one who at last sees the gates of the kingdom of heaven opening before her happy eyes. "'Sure,' said Doris, in a tone as like Carlyse is possible. She lifted one little shabby shoe, and tried to reach the step but failed, and then surrendered her trusting hands to the young man, and he lifted her in beside her mother. "'Sit there, kitten, till your sister comes out,' he said, looking at her flower face admiringly. Doris giggled. "'I ain't a kitty,' she declared. "'I say, little girl.' "'Well, little girl, do you like to go riding?' "'Sure. I do like to go ride,' said Doris. "'Oh! There goes Mother's bed,' as the draemon came out carrying the headboard. Surely, meanwhile, was working rapidly, putting the last things from her mother's bed into the box, tossing things into the empty clothes-basket that had been left for this purpose, and directing the man who was taking down the bed and carrying out the boxes and baskets. At last all the things were out of the house, and she was free to go. She turned for one swift moment, and caught a sob in her throat. There had not been time for it before. It had come when she saw the young man stoop and lift her mother so tenderly and bear her out to the car. But the children were calling her loudly to come. She gave one happy dab at her eyes with her handkerchief to make sure notias had escaped, and went out of the little brick house for ever. A little middle seat had been turned down for Carol, and Doris was in her lap. Graham turned the other middle seat down for Shirley. The boys piled into the front seat with him, and they were off. Mrs. Hollister, in her wonder over it all, completely forgot to look back into what she had been want to call in the stifling days of summer, her frying-pan, or to wonder whether she were about to jump into the fire. She just lay back on her soft cushions, softer than any she had ever rested upon before, and felt herself glide along away from the hated little dark house for ever. It was a wonderful experience. It almost seemed as if a chariot of fire had swooped down and gathered all her little flock with her, and was carrying them to some kind of gracious heaven where comfort would be found at last. A bit of hope sprang up within her, utterly unpremeditated and unreasonable, and persisted, though, that she could not help but feeling happy. As yet it had not come to her to wonder who this handsome young man was that presumed to lift her and carry her like a baby, and move her on beds of down to utterly unknown regions. She was too much taken up with the wonder of it all. If Doris hadn't been praddling, asking questions of her, and the light breeze hadn't flapped a lock of hair into her eyes and tickled her nose, she might have thought she was dreaming, so utterly unreal did it all seem to her. And now they passed out from the narrow streets through crowded thoroughfares for a brief space, then out beyond and free into the wider reaches. Fair houses and glimpses of green were appearing. The car was gliding smoothly, for the sake of the invalid not going at high speed, and she could see on every side. The trees were in full leaf. The sky was large and blue. The air was filled with freshness. She drew a long breath and closed her eyes to pray. Oh, my father! And then opened them again to see whether it was all true. Surely, sensitive for her to the slightest breath, turned and drew the robes closer about her mother and asked whether she were perfectly warm and whether she wanted another pillow under her head. Graham did not intrude himself upon the family behind him. He was absorbed in the two boys who were entirely willing to be monopolized. He told them all about the car, and discoursed on the mysteries of the different makes with the freedom that gave George the impression that he was himself almost a man to be honored by such talk. It was nearly seven o'clock when they reached Glenside, and the big stone barn came in sight, for they had traveled slowly to make it easier for the invalid. Elizabeth had sighted the car far down the road below the curve, and switching on every electric light in the place, she fled down the ladder to the basement, dragging the willing Jenkins after her. Here they waited with bated breath until the family had gone inside, when they made this stealthy way out the east end, across the little brook under the fence and down the road, to be picked up by the car according to previous arrangement. As the car came in sight of the barn, a deep silent suddenly fell upon the little company. Even Doris felt it, and ceased her parattle to look from one to another. What's the matter? She asked Shirley Shiley, putting out her hand to pat Shirley's face in a way she had when she was uneasy or troubled. What's the matter, Shirley? But Shirley only squeezed her hand reassuringly and smiled. As they drew near, the young people noticed that the bars of the fence in front of the barn had been taken down, and the ditch filled in smoothly. Then they saw that the car was turning in, and going straight up the grassy incline to the door. Mrs. Hollister, lying comfortably among her cushions, was looking at the evening sky, hearing a bird that reminded her of long ago, and scarcely noticed they had turned off until the car stopped. Then, in silent joy, the children swarmed out of the car, and with one consent, stood back and watched mother as the strong young man came to the open door and gathered her in his arms once more. Now we're almost home, Mrs. Hollister, he said pleasantly. Just put your arms around my neck once more, and we'll soon have you beside your own fire. He lifted her and bore her into the wide couch before the crackling fire that Elizabeth had started, just before she went to look out the door the last time. Then into the blazing light of the transformed barn they all stepped, and everyone stood back and stared, blinking. What was this? What wondrous perfume met their senses? What luxury? What flowers? What hangings? They stood and stared, and could not understand. And between them they forgot to wonder what their mother was thinking, or to do a thing but stupidly stare and say, Why, and oh, and ah, half under their breath. Just phone me if you need anything, Miss Hollister, please. I shall be glad to serve you, said Graham, stepping quickly over to the door. Mrs. Hollister, I hope you'll be none the worse for your ride. And he slipped out the door and was gone. The sound of the car softly purring its way back were down the slope, brought Shirley out of her days, but, when she turned and understood that he was gone, the car was just backing into the road, turning with a quick whirl, and was away before she could make him hear. Oh, he's gone, she cried out, turning in dismay to the children. He's gone, and we never thanked him. George was out down the road like a shot, and the rest, forgetful for the moment of the invalid, who had been the great anxiety all day, crowded at the door to watch him. They could hear the throbbing of the machine. They heard it stop down the road, and starred again almost immediately, growing fainter with every whore, as it went farther from them. In a moment more, George came running back. He's gone. He meant to, I guess, so we could have it all to ourselves right at first. Elizabeth and the man went down the road waiting for him. They've been dawling the place up to surprise us. Oh, said Shirley, turning to look around, her cheeks growing rosy. Oh, isn't it beautiful! Then turning swiftly to the couch and kneeling, she said, Oh, mother! What does it all mean, daughter? Asked the bewildered mother, looking about on the great room that seemed to palace to her sad eyes. But they all began to clamor at once, and she could make nothing of it. Oh, Shirley! Look at the curtains! Aren't they perfectly dear? cried Carol, aesthetically. Perfectly dear! Echo Doris dancing up and down gleefully. And here's a card, with love, from Elizabeth. Isn't it sweet of her? Isn't she a perfect darling? Who is Elizabeth? asked Mrs. Hollister, rising to her elbow and looking around. Gee! Look at the flowers, broken George! It's like a store at Easter! I say! Those loolies are pretty keen, aren't they, Cheryl? Wait till you see the dining-room! Called Harley, who was investigating with the help of his nose. Some supper-table! Come on, quick! I'm starved! Hello! Hustle here, quick! Here's another signboard. They followed to the dining-room. Harley, still following his nose, pursued his investigations to the kitchen, discovered the source of the savory odors that were pervading the place, and raised another cry so appreciative that the entire family, with the exception of the invalid, followed him and found the supper steaming hot and crying to be eaten. After the excitement was somewhat quieted, Shirley took command. Now, children, you're getting mother all excited and this won't do. And besides, we must eat this supper right away before it spoils. Quiet down and bring the hot things to the table while I get mother's things off. I'll tell her all about it. There's plenty of time, you know. We're going to stay right here, all summer. Ah, gee! Can't we bring mother out to the table?" pleaded George. Harley and I could lift that couch just as easy. Why, I don't know, said Shirley, hesitating. You know she isn't strong, and she will worry about you lifting her. Oh, Shirley, let her come, pleaded Carol. We could all take hold and wheel the couch out here. You know the floor is real smooth since those new boards were put in, and those are good casters on the couch. Mother, mother, you're coming out to supper, they chorused, rushing back to the living room. And before the invalid realized what was happening, her couch was being wheeled carefully, gleefully into the brilliantly lighted dining-room, with doors like a fairy sprite dancing in attendance and shouting joyously, Mud is coming to supper, mud is coming to supper again. The mother stared in amazement at the royally-spread table, so smothered in flowers that she failed to recognize the cracked old blue dishes. Children, I insist. She raised her voice above the happy din. I insist on knowing immediately what all this means. Where are we and what is this, a hotel? And who was the person who brought us here? I cannot eat anything, nor stay here another minute until I know. People can't rent houses like this for ten dollars a month anywhere, and I didn't suppose we had come to charity, even if I am laid up for a few days. The lady could see the hurt in her mother's eyes, and the quick alarm in her voice, and came around to her couch, smiling. Now, Mother Dia, we'll tell you the whole thing. It isn't a hotel we're in, and it isn't a house at all. It's only an old barn. A barn? Mrs. Hollister sat up on her couch alertly, and looked at the big bowl of roses in the middle of the table, at the soft flowing curtains at the window, and the gray pot of Easter lilies on the little stand in front, and exclaimed, impossible. But it is really, Mother, just a grand old stone barn. Look at the walls. See? Those two over there are just rough stones, and this one back of you is a partition, made of common boards. That's only an old brown denim curtain over there to hide the kitchen, and we've got the old red chenille curtains up to partition off the bedrooms. The boys are going to sleep up in the hayloft, and it's going to be just great. Mrs. Hollister, looked wildly at the stone walls, back at the new partition, recognized one by one the ancient chairs, the old bookcase now converted into a china closet, the brown denim curtain that had once been a cover for the dining room floor in the Little Brick House. Now it was washed and mended, and was doing its faded part to look like a wall and fit into the scheme of things. She darted questioning glances at the wealth of flowers and the abundantly set table, then settled back on her pillow, but half satisfied. They don't have curtains in a barn, she remarked, dryly. Those are a present from Elizabeth, the little sister of the landlord. She was out here with him when he came to see about things, and she got acquainted with Carol. She has put up those curtains and brought the flowers and fixed the table for a surprise. See, mother? And Shirley brought the card on which Elizabeth had printed her crude welcome. Mrs. Hollister took the card, as if it were some sort of a life preserver, and smiled with relief. But this is a great deal to do for strangers, she said tremblingly, and tears begin to glitter in her eyes. They must be wealthy people. Yes, mother, I think they are, said Shirley, and they have been most kind. But, daughter, wealthy people do not usually take the trouble to do things like that for nothing, and $10 a month for a barn could be nothing to them. I know, mother, but he seems very well satisfied with the price, said Shirley with a troubled brow. I— Something's burning! yelled Harley at the top of his lungs from the kitchen, and immediately they all rushed out to rescue the supper, which took that moment to assert itself. Now, mother, said Shirley, coming in with a big terrine of soup, we've got to eat this supper or it will spoil. You're not to ask another question till we are through. They all settled expectantly down at the table, Doris climbing joyously onto her high chair, calling, Suppy, Suppy, oh, goody! Such a clatter and clamor, such shouting over the sandwiches, and such jumpings up and down to carry something to mother. Such lingering over the delicious ice-cream and fresh strawberries that were found in the freezer. Think of it, real strawberries for them that time of year. Then when they had eaten all they could and began to realize that it was time to get mother to bed, they pushed the chairs back and all fell to clearing off the table and putting things away. It was Carol who discovered the big roasted foul and the bowl of salad set away in the tiny ice-box ready for tomorrow. How had Elizabeth, who never kept house in her life, known just what would be nice for a family that were all tired out with moving and needed to lie back and rest before started on with living? The dishes were almost washed when the cart arrived with the last load of things and the drayman helped George to put up mother's bed. They wheeled the couch into the living-room after the big doors were closed and safely fastened for the night. Before the glowing fire Shirley helped mother to undress, then rolled her couch into the bedroom and got her to bed. Do you mind very much that it is only a barn mother, dear? Questioned Shirley, bending anxiously over her mother after she was settled. I can't make it seem like a barn, dear. It seems a palace, said the mother with a tremble in her voice. I'm glad it's a barn, because we could never afford a house with space like this and air. She threw out her hands as if to express her delight in the wide-rooms and drew in a breath of the delicious country air, so different from air of the dusty little brick house in the city. Daughter! She drew Shirley down when she could whisper to her, You are sure he is not looking on us as objects of charity, and you are sure he understands that you are a self-respecting girl earning her honorable living and paying her way. You know this is a wicked deceitful world we live in, and there are all sorts of people in it. Mother, dear, I'm sure. Never as anybody could be. He has been a perfect gentleman. You didn't think he looked like one of those people that go around misunderstanding girls, did you, mother? The mother remembered the gentle, manly way in which the young man had lifted her, and carried her to and from the car, and her heart warmed to him, yet her fears lingered as she watched her sweet-eyed girl. No, she answered slowly, but then you can't always judge. She certainly was a gentleman, and he was very nice-looking. Then she looked sharply at Shirley. You won't go to getting any notions in your head, dear child. Her eyes were wistful, and sad as she searched the sweet, weary face of the girl. You know rich young men follow whims sometimes for a few days. They don't mean anything. I wouldn't want your heart broken. I wish she was an old man with white hair. Oh, mother, dear, laughed Shirley, with heart-free ring to her voice. Did you think you had a young fool for a daughter? He was only being nice because he is a perfect gentleman. But I know he is not in the same universe as I am, so far as anything more than pleasant kindliness is concerned. We shall probably never see him again now that we have settled. But don't you think I ought to go and telephone thanks to his little sister? They will be home by this time, and it seems as if we ought to make some acknowledgement of her great kindness. By all means, dear, but how can you? Is there a pay station near here? I thought you said this was out in the country. Why, we have a telephone of our own, mother, dear. Just think of the luxury of it, us, with a telephone. Mr. Graham had it put into the barn when he was making some repairs, so he could communicate with his workmen, and he said if we would like it we might keep it. It is one of those pay-as-you-go phones with a place to drop nickels and dimes in, so we are perfectly independent. Mr. Graham thought it would be a comfort to you, when George or I had to stay late in town. How thoughtful of him! He must be a wonderful rich man. By all means, telephone at once, and tell the little girl to say to her brother from me that I shall esteem it a privilege to thank him personally for all that he has done for my children, some time when he is out this way. Think! A real rose by my bed. She reached out a frail hand, and touched the exquisite petals lovingly. It's wonderful. So Shirley went into the living-room to telephone, while all the children stood about to watch and comment and tell her what to say. Doris sat on a little cushion at her feet in awe, and listened, asking Carol with large eyes. He's surely talking to God? Why doesn't she set her eyes? For Shirley's conversation over the telephone sounded to the little sister much like a prayer of thanksgiving, only she was not accustomed to hearing that joyous laughter in the voice when people prayed. Then Doris was put to bed in her own little crib, and the light in mother's room was switched off amid Doris's flood of questions. What makes it light? Why did it go away? Will it turn again? At last she was asleep, and the other children tiptoed excitedly about preparing for bed, going up and down steus softly, whispering back and forth for this or that they could not find, till quiet settled down upon the tired, happy household, and the bullfrogs in the distant creek, droned out the nightly chorus. End of chapter 12