Chapter IV: Part 4

In a few days they started for home, a merry party, Eleanor, her father and mother, Florence, Rock and Bubbles. As they came near the house Eleanor glanced up at the window where poor Ada had hung so helplessly. She looked over at the little playhouse, then she turned to Rock. "Oh, Rock," she said, "I am so glad you are not Don."

Sylvy, smiling and neat, met them at the door, and before twenty-four hours all was as it had been before Cousin Ellen had come. Yet, it took Eleanor a little while to adjust herself to the belief that there were no hard words nor cold looks to greet her, and once or twice she cried out in the night so pitifully as to bring her mother to her side to awaken her from a nightmare in which she said she thought Cousin Ellen was holding her while Don stuck pins in her.

One of the first visitors was Dr. Sullivan, who greeted Eleanor with: "Heigho, little girl! back again? Plenty of fresh air, remember. Another patient is this, Miss Florence? A comrade in misery. Well, keep out of doors all you can."

And then came Miss Reese for sympathy, as she said, and she seemed so glad to see Eleanor that the child felt that here was one person, at least, who believed in her. "I'm so glad you can come and teach us, Miss Reese," she told her. "I think it will be a dear little school. We are to study in the library, mamma says, and I think it will be great fun."

Mrs. Dallas had just come in from a walk. "What do you think, daughter? Cousin Ellen wants to know if I will let Don and Olive and Jessie join our little class."

Eleanor looked horror-stricken and her mother laughed as she asked, "What did you say, mamma?"

"I said no, and I said it very emphatically. Cousin Ellen says the three older children have had the whooping-cough and she fears it for none of them but Alma. I said: 'I do not think the arrangement would be at all a satisfactory one, Cousin Ellen, and we will not consider it.'"

Just here Bubbles came in saying: "Miss Dimple, Mr. Snyder out hyah."

"Oh!" Eleanor jumped up. "Please 'scuse me, Miss Reese, I must see my dear butterman. Come, Florence, come, Rock." And she ran out to greet her old friend, who shook both her hands and said: "Mrs. Snyder heard you was comin' home and she wants to know if you won't come out some day with your cousins and the little colored girl. Some Saturday. If you take the electric cars to Brookside it will be just a little walk across the fields. Mrs. Snyder wants to hear all about what has been happening and I've got a little colt to show you; one of the finest in the land. Come next Saturday, if it ain't too cold," he said as he drove away.

"They were so good to me, you will let us go, won't you, mamma?" Eleanor asked when she went into her mother.

"Of course, dear, you may go. I am more than grateful to Mr. and Mrs. Snyder for their kindness to you, and I would not refuse to have you accept their invitation for anything."

"And you'll take butter from them again?"

"Most certainly. Now run along, Miss Reese and I have some matters we want to talk over."

"I can't find the key to the playhouse," said Eleanor, coming back in a minute.

"Can't you? Well, never mind, wait till to-morrow before you go there. Suppose you get Bubbles to help you and Florence to put your clothing neatly in the bureau drawers."

"And then shall we help Rock to put his away?"

"Yes."

But upon being consulted, Rock said, "I did that myself."

Eleanor looked at him admiringly and Florence said, "I didn't know boys ever did such things; my brother doesn't."

"Because somebody does it for him, I suppose, but my mother says there's no reason why a boy shouldn't be as smart as a girl about finding things and keeping them in order."

"I wish my mother would say that to Lee," returned Florence; "he always throws his things anywhere and we girls have to find them for him and put them away."

"Well," said Rock, "I wouldn't let a girl do that for me."

Eleanor was sitting on the floor hugging her knees, her eyes roving around the room. Presently she jumped up and began a frantic dance. "What is the matter?" asked Florence in wonder.

"I'm glad, just so glad that I can't help it," Eleanor told her. "When I think it is Rock and not Don who is in the little room, and that you are here instead of Olive, I could scream with joy."

"We haven't been to the playhouse yet," said Florence.

"No, mamma said to wait till to-morrow."

"Why?"

"I don't know. She just said so. I don't suppose there is any reason."

"I believe there is," said Florence mysteriously.

"Oh, why?"

"Because I saw your papa come out of there with a man."

"Oh, well, we'll see to-morrow. I'm not going to guess about it. Let us go downstairs. There comes Doctor Sullivan again, oh, and Miss Reese is going. She will be here to-morrow to begin lessons. Doctor Sullivan is not coming in. Miss Reese is going with him in the buggy."

The next day did solve the mystery of the playhouse, for it appeared that the place had been repaired and put in perfect order. The man, whom Florence saw, had been putting in a pane of glass which Don had broken. "It looks nicer than ever," said Eleanor admiringly. "I am so glad papa had it made so new and clean, I feel as if all the Don of it were gone now." The words were hardly out of her mouth before Don's form appeared in the doorway. Eleanor drew herself up stiffly. "Well?" she said.

Don looked rather sheepish, but he said: "I just thought I would come over."

Eleanor said nothing.

"Say, I left my knife out here," began Don.

"When?"

"Oh, a long time ago. I want to come in and look for it."

"You can't come in. I will look for it. I don't believe it is here though, for it's been ever and ever so long since you were in here."

"I don't care, I'm coming in. I'd like to see any girl keep me out."

At this Rock came forward. He had been sitting in a corner where Don could not see him. "Then perhaps, a boy can keep you out," he said calmly. "This is Eleanor's house and she has a right to do as she chooses about it. If you have left anything here, go up to the house and tell Mrs. Dallas, or Mr. Dallas either. They will see that you get it."

Don stood for a moment irresolute and then walked away, but a few minutes later they heard a sharp cry of pain and they all rushed out to see Bubbles sitting on the ground sobbing and holding her wounded arm.

"Oh, Bubbles, Bubbles," cried Eleanor, running up to her, "what is it?"

"Dat Don he come an' gimme a lick 'fore I knowed he was anywhere about, and he knocked me over and hurt mah arm, he did."

Rock's eyes snapped. "I'll get even with him," he muttered, "the little bully."

"Does your arm hurt you very much?" asked Florence anxiously. "Come, let's go to the doctor right away."

"We'll tell mamma first," said Eleanor. This done, Mrs. Dallas did decide that the doctor would best be seen and they set out at once for his office, fortunately finding him at home. He found nothing serious had happened, but he frowned when told of the sudden and uncalled-for attack upon Bubbles, and shook his head, looking sharply at Rock as if he might be suspected of being at fault in the matter, so that Eleanor spoke up and said, "Rock sent him off, doctor, and I suppose that's what made him mad. Uncle Heath said he didn't think that Don was really a bad boy, but I think he is a very bad boy."

The doctor smiled at her emphatic way of speaking and said that he would call in the morning and see if Bubbles were all right. Indeed, it seemed that he generally found his way to the house every day, and about the time that Miss Reese took her leave after lesson hours.

Saturday proved to be as fine a day as could be expected in January, and the four children, Bubbles included, started for Mr. Snyder's. Florence and Rock had never been there before, and were delighted to go whizzing along through the country which was really very beautiful, even in winter, for it is not alone when trees are green, that hills and dales are fair to see.

They had been traveling for some time when Eleanor said, "You told the conductor to let us off at Brookside, didn't you, Rock? That place we just passed looked like it, but I am not sure if it is the place."

"I told him," returned Rock, "but maybe he forgot. I'll ask him." This he did to find that they had passed the place and were told that it wasn't very far and they could walk back.

"I call that pretty cool," said Rock as they scrambled down from the car, "but we've got to make the best of it, I suppose."

They trudged along for a little distance when suddenly they came to a high trestle before which Eleanor stood aghast. "I never can go over that," she declared.

"Oh, yes, you can," said Rock. "I'll walk ahead and take your two hands," but Eleanor shrank from such a proceeding.

"I couldn't! I couldn't," she insisted, "it makes me sick to think of it, and then suppose a car should come along."

"No, they only come every half hour, and it is a single track so the down car doesn't start till the up car gets to the terminus, the conductor told me, so that's all right," Rock tried to reassure her by saying.

But Eleanor was firm and at last clambered down the embankment and discovered a place narrow enough for her to cross the little stream running below. Bubbles fearfully followed, and they managed to scramble up the bank, reaching the other side almost as soon as Rock and Florence. But this was not the end of their adventures.

_CHAPTER XI_

_Don and a Pony_

The day was unusually pleasant for the season, and the children as they journeyed along saw that they were not the only ones who had sought the country. Ahead of them were three boys who were going in the direction of Mr. Snyder's.

"One of those boys looks like Don," said Florence; "I wonder what he is doing out here. Do you know who the others are, Dimple?"

"No, I don't believe I do, though one of them looks like Joe Forrester."

"Is he the brother of the girl you told me about?"

"Yes, but I don't know him. See, they are turning off here and that is Mr. Snyder's house over there."

"I hope those boys aren't going there."

"I don't believe they are; the boys from town go wandering all about in the woods and places about here. I don't believe Don would want to go to Mr. Snyder's."

But in this she was mistaken, for, after they had spent a pleasant hour with Mrs. Snyder and had eaten a hearty and good dinner, they heard a great commotion outside whither Mr. Snyder had gone to bring up his pretty little colt to show the children.

"Mr. Snyder thinks as much of that colt as if it were a baby," Mrs. Snyder told them, "and it is a pretty creature. The land's sake! What's all that to do?"

They all ran out on the porch to see Mr. Snyder with a squirming boy firmly held by the collar, while Lem was leading off the colt which was limping and seemed in some way hurt.

"Ben, Ben, what's the matter?" cried Mrs. Snyder running down the steps.

"Matter enough," he answered, "just wait till I get this youngster settled and I'll tell you."

The children peeping over the balustrade of the porch, saw a very wrathful countenance, yet Eleanor's sympathies were about to go out to the captured boy when suddenly she exclaimed: "Oh, Florence! Oh, Rock! It is Don."

Sure enough, Don it was, and the angry man who held him prisoner brought the boy up on the porch saying: "Here's a fine fellow for you. He'll cost me a pretty penny, but I'll make him suffer."

"Why, Ben, what has he done?" inquired Mrs. Snyder.

"Done? Done enough. Him and a couple of other rascals that's got away, worse luck, have come near ruining my colt and have played havoc with your frames out there, mother."

"Not my violet frames?"

"Yes, that's right. You see, I let Dandy out into the back lot for a run, seeing that it was such a fine day, and them fellows thought it would be great fun to scare him to see him run, so they crept under the fence and shied something at him, and he ran and jumped the fence, or tried to, for he caught himself on that wire fence by the garden and after struggling a while he got loose and went crashing through the frames. I don't know how bad the colt's hurt, but I know how bad the boy's going to be." He gave Don a shake and the boy, white with terror, began to beg for mercy.

For all the wrongs she had suffered at Don's hands were still fresh in Eleanor's memory, she began to feel very sorry for the culprit, and she said softly, "Maybe it wasn't Don that did it, Mr. Snyder. Maybe it was one of the other boys, the ones who ran away."

"Don? Is that this fellow's name? Do you know him?"

"Why, yes, he is Donald Murdoch. Don't you remember Cousin Ellen Murdoch, who lived in our house? He is her son."

"Yes, yes," Mr. Snyder slightly loosened his grip upon Donald and appeared to be considering the matter. After a moment's pause he spoke again. "This is the youngster then, who caused you so much trouble I suppose."

"Ye-es," Eleanor answered reluctantly.

"Pestered the little darky so she had to leave and was the cause of her getting a broken arm?" He gave Donald a shake that made the boy's teeth chatter.

"Yes," spoke up Florence, for Eleanor was silent, "and he tried to hurt Bubbles again just a day or two ago." Mr. Snyder's grip on the boy's shoulder made the boy wince.

"Told lies about you; took your playhouse and helped himself to anything he wanted without so much as a 'by your leave,' didn't he?" Mr. Snyder kept up his remarks to Eleanor.

"Oh, yes," Eleanor found her voice again, "but his mother would feel so dreadfully about it if you send him to jail."

Mr. Snyder's face relaxed some of its grimness. "Come in here, all of you," he said, "and we'll have a little trial by jury. Here, boy, stand there. Don't you dare to budge one inch or it will be the worse for you. You and your companions have trespassed on my property, and have injured a valuable colt for me besides doing other damage. I am going to sift the matter to the very bottom, and if you don't tell the truth you'll get such a whipping as you never had. Now, sir, speak up; let's hear your story. Did you or didn't you throw stones at the colt?"

Don glanced around. He saw a set of stern faces, only in Eleanor's eyes was a pitying look. He began to cry softly and she took a step forward but Mr. Snyder waved her back. "Wait a minute. Tell me, boy, did you throw the stone that hit the colt?"

"The other fellows did, too," replied Don.

"Never mind about them. We'll settle their hash later on. I am dealing with you now. Did you?"

"Yes," Don admitted reluctantly.

"Well then, you are liable to one-third damages, supposing the others are equally guilty."

"Oh," Eleanor exclaimed, "Mr. Snyder, will it be a great deal?"

"A matter of fifty dollars without the colt; if he's not seriously hurt, but I'm afraid that, at the best, he is so scratched that he wouldn't bring the price I might have got for him. Now then, boy, I'm inclined to trounce you well. You need a whipping the worst kind."

Donald cried woefully, and Eleanor looked ready to cry, herself. "Oh, please, Mr. Snyder," she began.

He looked at her and smiled. "Then, Don, down on your knees and beg this young lady's pardon for treating her like a cub. Here before us all, down with you."

Donald did not hesitate, but began to mumble something. "Oh, no, no, please," Eleanor interrupted him, feeling the shame of it tingling to her very ears. "Never mind, now, Mr. Snyder. I don't care. It is all over and past and, please, never mind."

"All right. Get up, boy, you've Dimple to thank for being let off from a thrashing, but I'll march you to your mother and you will tell a straight story before her or I'll know the reason why." And Donald, cowed and miserable, was taken directly back to town, and was marched into his mother's presence.

Mr. Snyder told his tale curtly. "I've plenty of witnesses," he said, "and I know what I'm talking about. I've got to have this made right or I'll go to law about it."

"I am sure my boy never had a hand in it," returned Mrs. Murdoch stiffly.

"Your boy did, by his own confession. Here, sir, tell your mother all about it." And Mrs. Murdoch was an unwilling listener to an account of the disaster.

"I never would have believed it," she said in a distressed tone, "but Mr. Snyder, I am sure he didn't mean to hurt your horse, and besides those other boys led him on, I am sure."

"He threw the first stone and he was the ring-leader," persisted Mr. Snyder. "I've three witnesses to prove it."

"I know who they are," said Don, feeling safe under the shelter of his mother's wing; "it was Florence and Eleanor and that boy they call Rock."

"Oh," Mrs. Murdoch said significantly, "if they were concerned in it, the whole tale is probably a fabrication."

"Which it isn't," Mr. Snyder declared. "They never one of them saw it, all of them being in my house behind closed doors when it happened. The ones who saw it were two of my neighbors and my man, Lem Hawkins who shouted to them to stop and couldn't get there in time to prevent mischief. Ain't you a pretty sneaking little cur?" he said turning to Don. "I'd like to know who it was that begged you off. Tell your mother how it comes that you escaped a sound whipping. And that brings up another thing, ma'am. My wife and I are mighty fond of that little gal, Dimple Dallas, and we don't mean to stand by and have her blamed for others' bad actions. Just out with it, boy, and tell your mother how you plagued the life out of her and that little Bubbles, and don't forget to put in how she begged you off to-day. No shirking; a plain, straightforward story." He shook his head in a terrifying manner at Don who spluttered and stammered out a confession which satisfied his stern judge, but which his mother would fain have had left unsaid, for finally she stopped him with "That will do, Donald. I am sure you had some provocation. I don't excuse you altogether, of course, but there are always two sides to a question."

"Just so," said Mr. Snyder, "and it won't be my fault if every one doesn't hear both. Now, ma'am, are you ready to pay me twenty dollars for the damage this boy has caused? I'm letting you off easy at that."

Mrs. Murdoch looked aghast. "Pay twenty dollars! Why, I couldn't think of it. I am in very straitened circumstances, and oh, Mr. Snyder, you surely will not press such a claim for a mere piece of fun. Boys will be boys."

"And law's law. I'm going to have that made good."

"You'll not go to law about it."

"Perhaps."

Mrs. Murdoch was so evidently distressed that finally Mr. Snyder who was too good-hearted to insist upon ready money, made a proposition that Donald should work out the amount. "I have a pretty good patch of berries every year," he said, "and I always have to hire a few pickers. Now, I'll be easy with you, but it is only right that the boy should be made to do something about this, and I shall expect him to work out every dollar." This arrangement was finally agreed upon, for Donald thought he would rather enjoy a free time among the strawberry beds, and he was so relieved at getting off thus easily that he was ready to give Eleanor credit for all her influence in his behalf. So that Mrs. Murdoch began to think that, after all, she might have misjudged Eleanor.

This was the end of any trouble with Don, so far as Eleanor was concerned, and indeed, so far as it affected others, for he needed just such a lesson and after many days of wearisome, back-breaking work among the strawberry beds, work which Mr. Snyder made in no way easy for him, he realized that one must respect the property of others, and that in this world a person cannot be allowed his own way without regard to the rights of others.

But the rest of the winter passed happily enough. In the spring came Grandpa and Grandma Dallas, and thinking that his little granddaughter looked rather thin and pale, grandpa consulted his son with the result that Eleanor was told that her grandfather meant to buy her a little Shetland pony that she might spend the greater part of her time out in the fresh air without getting too tired.

"Do you hear? Oh, Rock! Oh, Florence, do you hear?" cried Eleanor, upon being told the news. "Oh, grandpa, when will you get it?"

"As soon as we can find one that is gentle and well-trained," he answered smiling. "Do you know of any one who has such a pony for sale?"

"No, not now. I did know a darling of a pony; it was Zula's, that little gipsy girl's. Oh, if the gipsies were here, perhaps they would have one to sell. They had one and Zula wanted me to buy it."

"I am afraid they would be rather unreliable people to buy from," her grandfather said.

"Oh, but they are really not so bad. Zula loved her brother dearly and her pony too, and they were very good to Bubbles."

"Oh, yes, Bubbles, to be sure. Bring her in and let us hear what she has to say of them. Perhaps they will be coming this way after a while and we can see what they have to sell. It must be about time for them to be getting up this way from the south."

"Yass, suh, dey fust-rate to me," said Bubbles, upon being questioned. "Dey had a mess o' hosses, an' a teenty little pony like de one Miss Dimple tell you-all about. Hit were a good one, too, 'cause I heered dat Marco, dey call him, when he fetch de pony in, an' he say to de little gal: 'I got a pony mos' as good as yo'n,' an' she say she don't believe it, an' he say 'sho.'"

"Well," said grandpa, "I'll look about and see what we can find, and if the gipsies come this way we'll hunt them up, and find out what they have."

It was lovely weather and the children had all so far recovered from their illness as to be able to return to school, since Miss Reese, too, was to take her place there after the Easter holidays. "I hope Miss Reese will stay," said Eleanor, "for I love her, mamma. Do you think she will teach at that school as long as I go there?"

"I'm afraid not."

"Why?"

"I don't think Dr. Sullivan will let her."

"Dr. Sullivan?" Eleanor looked puzzled, but presently it dawned upon her what her mother meant. "Oh, mamma, is that why he used to come every day about noon to take Miss Reese home? I thought how kind he was," she said in an aggrieved tone.

"Well, wasn't he kind?"

"Yes, to himself."

Mrs. Dallas laughed and said she must tell the doctor and Miss Reese that.

"Do you think Aunt Nellie will want Florence to come home after Easter?"

"No, I think she will be very glad to have her remain where she can be out of doors more than she could be in the city."

"And can she stay all summer?"

"Yes, if her mother doesn't find that she cannot be parted so long from her. You know you and I wanted to see each other very much after a two months' separation."

"Yes, but Aunt Nellie has such a lot of other children and you had only me."

"Yes, but Florence has but one mamma, you know."

"I hadn't thought of that," Eleanor returned. "Well, Florence can go home and stay a week and then come back again. Can't she do that?"

"Perhaps so."

Just then Florence came in with her doll Rubina in her arms. "Hurry up, Dimple," she said. "Get your hat; your grandpa is going to take us out to drive. The gipsies have come and are camping in the same place Bubbles says."

"Oh, I am so glad. Are you going to take Rubina?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll take Celestine. Ada, my dear, you must stay at home, for Celestine and Rubina are such friends, you know. Mamma, may Ada sit in your room with you? I am afraid she will get lonely without me."

"I shall be very pleased to have her company," Mrs. Dallas replied. "I have noticed that she is an extremely well-behaved child and never meddles with my things when you leave her in my room."

"Is grandpa here? Is the carriage waiting?" Eleanor asked Florence.

"No, not yet. Your grandpa and Rock have gone to get it."

"Oh, then we will have time to change the dolls' dresses. I want Zula to see them looking their best. What can I take Zula, mamma?"

"Are you sure you will see her?"

"Why yes, I suppose she is with these gipsies."

"Perhaps it is not the same company."

"Oh, well, I'll take something anyway. May I have some daffodils out of the garden? I can give them to some one else if Zula is not there."

"You may have some of them."

"Rock is going to take his camera and see if he can get some snap-shots of the gipsies," Florence told them.

"Won't that be fine? Good-bye dearest, loveliest mamma. I wish you were going too."

"I couldn't very well go this morning. I have several things to attend to at home."

Over the same way that Eleanor had traveled with weary feet that November day, they went this fair morning in April, and it was not long before they saw ahead of them the gaily painted wagons of the gipsies. "There they are!" cried Florence. "Can we drive up real close? I never saw a gipsy camp before. I think the people look very queer."

"I shouldn't mind traveling around the country in a wagon like that," Rock declared, as he caught sight of the odd little houses on wheels.

"Now we are going to stop," said Eleanor. "Grandpa, will you ask if Zula is here. I want to see her."

But grandpa was attracted by the sight of a little pony under a tree. He nodded to one of the men lounging near, and asked him: "Is that pony for sale?"

The man looked around uncertainly. "Marco is boss. I'll tell him," he said; and a grave-faced young man soon came up to the carriage.

"I'm inquiring about that little pony," said grandpa. "Is he for sale?"

"No, I don't sell him. He belonged to my little sister. I don't take a thousand dollars for him. My little sister's horse he was."

"Oh," Eleanor leaned forward. "Was it Zula's pony? Where is Zula?"

The young man looked down. "She has died this winter."

"Oh!" Eleanor drew back. "I wanted to see her. Are you Marco, her brother?"

"Her brother," he replied. "Where have you known my little sister?"

"I saw her here last fall. Don't you remember? And the little colored girl you took to the hospital? She is well now. You were very kind to Bubbles. Won't you have these flowers? I brought them to Zula." And she held out the yellow daffodils.

The young man took them. "Thank you. I am glad to see you. I would like to sell you the pony if I could sell him to any one, but I cannot. He was Zula's, but I have another one here as good. I sell him for one hundred twenty-five dollars." He turned to Mr. Dallas.

"That is a pretty good price, but let us see him," said grandpa.

"I am so sorry that Zula is not here," said Eleanor softly, "but, you know, she is up in heaven and she must be very happy."

The young man turned and looked at her. It seemed as if the tears were very near his eyes as he walked away.

Presently he returned leading a little shaggy pony which he declared he could recommend as being gentle and perfectly safe. "I would not wish to sell to Zula's friend a pony not good," he said earnestly. "Is it for the little girl here?"

"Yes, for her!" grandpa told him.

"He is one year older than the other, but he is perhaps no worse for that, for he is easy in harness and very gentle to ride. If you like him I sell him for one hundred and twenty dollars."

Mr. Dallas asked many questions, got out of the carriage, and examined the docile little creature very carefully, and finally offered one hundred dollars for the pony. "I will do this," said the young man. "We are here for three or four days. I will bring you the pony this evening, and you can keep him long enough to try him all you want, and if he does not prove all I say you can return him, but if he does I will sell him for one hundred and ten dollars."

This seemed so fair an offer that Mr. Dallas, at last accepted it, and that evening the little pony arrived to remain as Eleanor's very own, for he proved to be as tractable and good a little creature as could be desired.

_CHAPTER XII_

_A May Party_

After the little pony was fairly established in his new home, Grandma Dallas declared that she was not to be outdone by grandpa, and to make the present quite complete she would add a pony-cart; and then three merrier children could not be found than Eleanor, Florence, and Rock as they drove out, the pony scampering unweariedly over many a mile. It seemed no distance now to Mr. Snyder's and many a call did the good butterman and his wife receive from the children.

But as the first of May approached an event was promised which threatened to cast all other interests in the shade. Florence and Eleanor had started to one school after Easter, and Rock to another. Eleanor was welcomed back with open arms by most of the girls, but Olive and Janet still held aloof, and did not join her special company of friends. "She's so stuck up, now that she has a pony, that she can hardly see," Eleanor heard Janet say one day, for Eleanor was not above giving her head a little toss and looking supreme contempt at the speaker whenever they met. "And it isn't because I've a pony," she told Florence, "but I just despise her anyhow."

That very day Miss Reese made an announcement which set all the class astir. "Since I do not expect to return to you next year, girls," she said, "I thought we would have a little frolic before we part, and I have planned to go a-Maying. But not on the first of May," she added. "We will wait till it is warm enough to go with no danger of taking cold. Now, I think it would be pleasant to try to have a real May party, with a May-pole and a May-queen and all that. Each one of you will be privileged to invite one guest, a boy if you like, for we must have some boys along, and two weeks from to-day will cast votes for the queen. That will give you time to think the matter over so you will not decide hastily. I do not think we shall want to select the prettiest, nor the wealthiest, but the one who shows the most loving disposition or the most conscientious work, or some quality of mind or heart to commend her." Not a girl but hoped that she would be selected, and not one but felt that this was one of the most exciting events that she had ever looked forward to.

"Oh, Florence, suppose one of us should be chosen," said Eleanor, as the two were walking home from school. "Wouldn't it be perfectly lovely to wear a flower crown and be dressed in white and carry a sceptre. Are you going to invite any one?"

"Why, yes, I think I will invite Rock, unless you want to."

"Oh, no, so long as he comes it will not make any difference. Oh, don't you hope you will be chosen?"

Florence was obliged to confess that she did hope so, but just how greatly she desired the honor not even Eleanor knew. Florence loved everything romantic, and it seemed to her that to be a May-queen must be the summit of human bliss. She had been so short a time at the school that she hardly dared to believe that she would stand a chance of being chosen, much as she longed to be. She saw that her Cousin Eleanor was very popular and that she would be one of the first favorites. Olive Murdoch was an excellent student and was very careful about obeying rules, and she was in many respects the most attentive girl in the class. She had numerous friends, too, for where Olive liked any one she could make herself very agreeable, and had the qualities which made her a leader. Indeed, before the week was out, it looked as if the two who would receive the most votes were Olive and Eleanor.

"I shall vote for you," Eleanor told Florence.

"And, of course, I shall vote for you," Florence returned. "Oh, Dimple, if Olive Murdoch is chosen I don't believe I shall care to go to the May party. I should hate to call her fair queen and all that. Are we to vote for the maid of honor?"

"I don't know. Miss Reese hasn't said anything about it, but if we can choose the one we most want, and if I should be queen, I shall want you, of course."

"And I shall want you."

At last came the day when the votes were to be given. Twenty little girls, with hearts beating fast and with hopes high, cast in their votes; a box to receive them stood on Miss Reese's desk. It seemed to the children, as they sat there with the odor of apple-blossoms drifting in through the open windows, and the fair May green before them as they looked out, that Miss Reese never had been so long over anything. She separated the slips of paper into small heaps and carefully counted each one over more than once.

At last she looked up, and smiled to see the little eager faces. "Olive Murdoch, seven votes; Eleanor Dallas, six; Florence Graham, three; Edith West, two; Leila Clark, two; Elsie Vail, one."

"Oh," came a little murmur from the class and Olive's face wore a triumphant and self-satisfied expression, while Eleanor and Florence looked at each other, reading in one another's face the disappointment written there.

Suddenly Miss Reese spoke again: "Why, this is not right; there should be but twenty votes and there are twenty-one. Some one has given two votes. Now, shall we vote over again? Shall I call upon each girl to announce her choice? or, since there seems to be no doubt but that Olive Murdoch and Eleanor Dallas have received the greatest number of votes, shall we consider them the candidates and let the class vote over again for one or the other of these two girls? All in favor of this last plan please raise their right hands." Up went most of the right hands and Miss Reese nodded approvingly.

"Now," she said, "each girl can write her choice on a slip of paper and bring it to me, and then there will be no mistake. Jessie, give out these slips." A little flush arose to Olive's cheeks and she whispered something to the girl next her, who nodded in reply.

The room was so still that the singing of a robin outside in the apple-tree seemed the only sound to be heard. Then one by one the girls came forward with their slips of paper. Miss Reese read each one silently, and as Olive's turn came she looked up with a queer little smile at the girl who dropped her eyes and went back to her seat with a flushed face. Miss Reese again counted the votes. "This time we have just twenty," she said. "There are for Eleanor Dallas twelve votes; for Olive Murdoch, eight." Every girl turned and looked at Eleanor whose face turned a rosy red and in her confusion she said quite loud enough for them all to hear, "Oh, Florence, I wish it had been you."

Miss Reese rapped on her desk. "Now," she said, "I think it will be best to take a different way to choose the maid of honor. Let each girl think of whom she would like and give her reason for it. I think that will make it quite interesting. You may begin, Elsie."

"I think Olive should be the one because she came so near being the queen," said Elsie.

Miss Reese nodded to the next girl who said she thought that some girl who had received no vote should be chosen.

Then came one who said: "I think Florence Graham, because she is a stranger here, and she isn't going to stay very long. I think it would be more polite to choose her." This seemed to strike the most of them favorably, and in the end Florence was made supremely happy by being elected maid of honor, and this important matter being settled, there were other questions to be discussed and the May party in all its ins and outs was talked over.

Although there were some disappointed little souls, as a rule all were well satisfied that the choice of queen had fallen where it did. Eleanor was radiantly happy and yet she could not help feeling sorry for Olive, who had counted upon being the favored one, and who gave Eleanor a look of scorn as she passed her. "She needn't look so," said Florence indignantly. "It was perfectly fair, and every one says so. I haven't a doubt but that she voted for herself," which, if the truth were known, was true, and, indeed, it was also true that the extra vote on the first ballot was cast by Olive. If Miss Reese suspected this she never said so, but she did know that Olive's name was on the slip of paper which she brought up, and that was why she gave Olive the quizzical little smile, for no other girl in the whole school had voted for herself.

Rock was jubilant when he heard the decision. "Hurrah for Queen Eleanor!" he cried. "I am just delighted, and all the more that you got ahead of Olive Murdoch."

But Eleanor looked sober when he said this. "She's dreadfully disappointed," she said, "and I'm awfully sorry for her. She studied real hard and does her lessons so well. I sort of think that she should have been chosen."

"Why, Dimple Dallas," exclaimed Florence. "I don't see how you can say that."

"I do think so. She is the best scholar in the school."

"Yes, and she's the hatefullest and the slyest." Florence was too loyal to Eleanor to believe any good of Olive.

"Well, anyhow, Jessie is a nice child and I like her," Eleanor maintained. "She was never mean to me once, and if you were not to be my maid of honor I should choose her next." This Eleanor said to Jessie, and furthermore, invited her to go with Florence, Rock and herself to gather flowers for the arbor under which the queen was to sit. Great masses of mountain laurel, wild honeysuckle and other spring blossoms they carried home in the little pony-cart, and long garlands were woven for the arbor.

"Won't you come and help us make the wreaths?" Eleanor asked Jessie.

"I should like to," she answered, "but mamma said I was to come right home as soon as we got back from the woods. I have had a lovely time, and I'd like to stay," the child repeated wistfully. "I just love that little pony."

"You shall drive with us whenever you want to," Eleanor assured her, as she bade her good-bye.

Eleanor was very thoughtful all the rest of the day, even when she and Rock and Florence were busy over the crown for the May-queen to wear the following day.

"We'll keep some of the prettiest bunches to trim our dresses with," said Florence. "Bubbles, bring us a basin of water to put them in. I shall have a little bunch on each shoulder and you can have the same, Dimple. Oh, where did you get those lovely lilies of the valley?"

"Mr. Atkinson sent them to me. I met him on the street and he was asking me about the May party."

"Where are they going to set up the May-pole?" Rock asked.

"Just back of Mr. Atkinson's; in that pretty meadow with the grove at one end."

"What a lovely place!" exclaimed Florence. "Where are you going, Dimple?"

"I'm just going to speak to mamma." And a moment later she entered her mother's room with a very serious face.

"What is the matter with the May-queen?" her mother asked.

Two tears started to Eleanor's eyes and she hid her head on her mother's shoulder. "I want to be May-queen so much," she said in a stifled voice.

"Well, dearie, I don't see anything to grieve you in that."

"Do you think I ought to give up to Florence or Jessie? It seems mean not to give them the chance."

Her mother smiled. "I don't think you are called upon to do anything of the kind. You were chosen fairly by the class, and you have no more right to refuse than if a presidential candidate were to say: 'Mr. So-and-so wants so much to be president. I'll give my place to him.' It is very kind of my little girl to think of such a thing, but I don't think it would do. Let the matter rest as it is. Every one will have a good time, and next year, or upon some other occasion, perhaps Jessie will have another chance."

"But Florence won't."

"Maybe she will. We might have a May party of our own next year in Florence's honor, and then she could be queen and Jessie maid of honor, if that would do."

"Oh, mamma, that is a lovely plan for you to think of, I feel real comfortable now."

And, therefore, with not a cloud to mar their pleasure the children started off for the May party. The little pony, which they had named Spice, wore a garland around his neck, and when Eleanor, dressed in white, with her maid of honor by her side, appeared in the little flower-decked pony-cart, a shout arose from the children, and with one accord they began to sing "God save the Queen."

Then Eleanor was helped down by two of her gentlemen-in-waiting, and was conducted to her throne; her crown was placed upon her head and her sceptre in her hand. Then a merry, merry time they had dancing around the May-pole, weaving in and out with their many-hued ribbons. The lookers-on in Mr. Atkinson's garden said it was the prettiest sight the town had seen in a long time.

After this they played games and sang songs and romped and ran and searched the woods for wild flowers till it was time for feasting.

When each basket was opened a store of good things appeared; these were spread out upon the grass, and the little queen was served first. But as she was eating her ice cream, she saw a pair of sparkling black eyes peeping through the fence. "Oh, there is Bubbles," she exclaimed. "Poor little Bubbles."

"What is your Royal Highness' wish concerning her?" asked Rock with quick wit, as he dropped upon one knee. "Is it yon sable maiden who has attracted your Majesty's notice?"

"Yes, it is. I wish she could have some of these good things."

"Where is the Premier?" asked Rock. "Oh, there she is. Miss Reese, her Majesty, the Queen, desires a consultation." And Miss Reese came forward.

"There is Bubbles," the queen said in very familiar language. "Please, Miss Reese, can some one take her some ice cream and cake? Is there enough?"

"An abundance. I will see that she has some," was the reply.

"May it please your Majesty, I will undertake the errand," said Rock. "Do you send me in quest of the hand-maid who has found favor in your sight?" Rock's language was a funny mixture of courtly and Scriptural expressions.

"Yes, do go, Rock, there's a dear." And Bubbles was made supremely happy by a generously piled up plate of cake and ice cream.

For some reason Don had taken a sudden liking to Rock, in spite of the latter's snubs and his coolness toward him. Rock was a bright boy with a ready wit and much ingenuity, and Don, with the admiration a small boy so often feels for a larger one, followed him around upon this May day until Rock, at first annoyed, was finally sorry for the smaller boy and began to pay him some attention, and to Eleanor's surprise, she saw the two hobnobbing like old friends before the day was out.

Whether it was on Rock's account or not, it is true that when the queen's chariot, as Rock called it, was driven up for Eleanor and Florence, no one was louder in his cheers than Don, and despite the old grievances, Eleanor could not help being pleased by this evidence of Don's good-will, and she drove off as happy as a little girl could be, followed by shouts of "Long live Queen Eleanor!" Spice shaking his mane and evidently in high feather at such a frolic.

"Has my dear daughter had a happy day?" asked Eleanor's mother as she kissed her good-night.

"So happy, mamma." There was little pause, then Eleanor said: "Don has to pick strawberries all day Saturday, for Mr. Snyder, and Rock is going to help him. May Florence and Bubbles and I go too? We can take Jessie and get through a lot."

"I cannot allow you to pick berries all day, dear, but you may spend a part of the afternoon in that way if you want to. Rock can do as he chooses, of course, but, how comes it that you are asking permission for Bubbles?"

"Don likes us all now," returned the child, "and Bubbles says if we pick for him, why, she will too, but I don't believe Olive will ever care for any of us."

"Perhaps she will. If one goes right along and does the best she knows how, after a while even her enemies will see her as she really is. What do you think Cousin Ellen said to me to-day when we stood together in Mr. Atkinson's garden looking at the May party?"

"I don't know. What did she say, mamma?"

"She said: 'Eleanor makes a very sweet little queen, doesn't she?'"

"Oh, mamma, truly?"

"Yes, truly. I think Mr. Snyder and Doctor Sullivan and--Don, perhaps, have had something to do with her change of opinion. At all events, we may hope that even Olive will be friends with you yet."

Eleanor shook her head, but just then Florence called, "Queen Eleanor, your Majesty, aren't you ever coming to bed? What makes you stay so long?"

"'Cause I'm so happy," answered Eleanor, after a last "Good-night!"