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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, Mr. Pat's Little Girl, by Mary F. Leonard,
+Illustrated by Chase Emerson
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: Mr. Pat's Little Girl
+       A Story of the Arden Foresters
+
+
+Author: Mary F. Leonard
+
+Release Date: March 31, 2005  [eBook #15511]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MR. PAT'S LITTLE GIRL***
+
+
+E-text prepared by David Garcia, Emmy, and the Project Gutenberg Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team (www.pgdp.net) from page images generously
+made available by the Kentuckiana Digital Library (http://kdl.kyvl.org)
+
+
+
+Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
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+      See 15511-h.htm or 15511-h.zip:
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+      or
+      (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/5/5/1/15511/15511-h.zip)
+
+      Images of the original pages are available through the Electronic
+      Text Collection of the Kentuckiana Digital Library. See
+      http://kdl.kyvl.org/cgi/t/text/text-idx?;page=simpleext
+
+
+
+
+
+MR. PAT'S LITTLE GIRL
+
+A Story of the Arden Foresters
+
+by
+
+MARY F. LEONARD
+
+Author of _The Spectacle Man_, etc.
+
+With Illustrations by Chase Emerson
+
+W.A. Wilde Company
+Boston and Chicago
+
+1902
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+
+TO
+
+A.E.F.
+
+IN LOVING MEMORY
+
+this story is lovingly dedicated
+
+BY HER NIECE
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: "HOW SWEET THE BREATH BENEATH THE HILL OF SHARON'S LOVELY
+ROSE."]
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+    CHAPTER
+
+         I. THINGS BEGIN TO HAPPEN
+                 "A magician most profound in his art."
+
+        II. ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE HEDGE
+                 "Give me leave to speak my mind."
+
+       III. FRIENDSHIP
+                 "True it is that we have seen better days."
+
+        IV. AN UNQUIET MORNING
+                 "You amaze me, ladies!"
+
+         V. MAURICE
+                 "The stubbornness of fortune."
+
+        VI. PUZZLES
+                 "How weary are my spirits."
+
+       VII. THE MAGICIAN MAKES TEA
+                         "If that love or gold
+                  Can in this place buy entertainment,
+                  Bring us where we may rest ourselves and feed."
+
+      VIII. "TO MEET ROSALIND"
+                 "Put you in your best array."
+
+        IX. THE LOST RING
+                 "Wear this for me."
+
+         X. CELIA
+                 "One out of suits with fortune."
+
+        XI. MAKING FRIENDS
+                 "Is not that neighborly?"
+
+       XII. THE GILPIN PLACE
+                 "This is the Forest of Arden."
+
+      XIII. IN PATRICIA'S ARBOR
+                 "O, how full of briers is this working-day world."
+
+       XIV. THE ARDEN FORESTERS
+                 "Like the old Robin Hood of England."
+
+        XV. A NEW MEMBER
+                 "In the circle of this forest."
+
+       XVI. RECIPROCITY
+                 "Take upon command what we have."
+
+      XVII. A NEW COMRADE
+                 "I know you are a gentleman of good conceit."
+
+     XVIII. AN IMPRISONED MAIDEN
+                 "The house doth keep itself,
+                  There's none within."
+
+       XIX. OLD ACQUAINTANCE
+                 "And there begins my sadness."
+
+        XX. THE SPINET
+                 "Though art not for the fashion of these times."
+
+       XXI. "UNDER THE GREENWOOD TREE"
+                 "Must you then be proud and pitiless?"
+
+      XXII.  CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE
+                 "I sometimes do believe and sometimes do not."
+
+     XXIII. THE DETECTIVE
+                 "'Twas I, but 'tis not I."
+
+      XXIV. AT THE AUCTION
+                 "Assuredly the thing is to be sold."
+
+       XXV. QUESTIONS
+                 "They asked one another the reason."
+
+      XXVI. THE PRESIDENT
+                 "--And good in everything."
+
+     XXVII. OLD ENEMIES
+                 "Kindness nobler ever than revenge."
+
+    XXVIII. BETTER THAN DREAMS
+                 "I like this place."
+
+      XXIX. AT THE MAGICIAN'S
+                 "I would have you."
+
+       XXX. OAK LEAVES
+                 "Bid me farewell."
+
+
+
+
+ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+
+   "'How sweet the breath beneath the hill
+       Of Sharon's lovely rose'"      (Frontispiece)
+
+   "Do you know Miss Betty?"
+
+   "Looking up, he discovered his visitors"
+
+   "They crossed over to speak to her"
+
+   "She chose a chest of drawers"
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FIRST.
+
+THINGS BEGIN TO HAPPEN.
+
+"A magician most profound in his art."
+
+
+It was Sunday afternoon. The griffins on the doorstep stared straight
+before them with an expression of utter indifference; the feathery foliage
+of the white birch swayed gently back and forth; the peonies lifted their
+crimson heads airily; the snowball bush bent under the weight of its white
+blooms till it swept the grass; the fountain splashed softly.
+
+    "'By cool Siloam's shady rill
+        How fair the lily grows,'"
+
+Rosalind chanted dreamily.
+
+Grandmamma had given her the hymn book, telling her to choose a hymn and
+commit it to memory, and as she turned the pages this had caught her eye
+and pleased her fancy.
+
+"It sounds like the Forest of Arden," she said, leaning back on the garden
+bench and shutting her eyes.
+
+    "'How sweet the breath beneath the hill
+        Of Sharon's lovely rose.'"
+
+She swung her foot in time to the rhythm. She was not sure whether a rill
+was a fountain or a stream, so she decided, as there was no dictionary
+convenient, to think of it as like the creek where it crossed the road at
+the foot of Red Hill.
+
+Again she looked at the book; skipping a stanza, she read:--
+
+    "'By cool Siloam's shady rill
+        The lily must decay;
+      The rose that blooms beneath the hill
+        Must shortly pass away.'"
+
+The melancholy of this was interesting; at the same time it reminded her
+that she was lonely. After repeating, "Must shortly pass away," her eyes
+unexpectedly filled with tears.
+
+"Now I am not going to cry," she said sternly, and by way of carrying out
+this resolve she again closed her eyes tight. It was desperately hard
+work, and she could not have told whether two minutes or ten had passed
+when she was startled by an odd, guttural voice close to her asking,
+"What is the matter, little girl?"
+
+If the voice was strange, the figure she saw when she looked up was
+stranger still. A gaunt old man in a suit of rusty black, with straggling
+gray hair and beard, stood holding his hat in his hand, gazing at her with
+eyes so bright they made her uneasy.
+
+"Nothing," she answered, rising hastily.
+
+But the visitor continued to stand there and smile at her, shaking his
+head and repeating, "Mustn't cry."
+
+"I am not crying," Rosalind insisted, glancing over her shoulder to make
+sure of a way of escape.
+
+With a long, thin finger this strange person now pointed toward the house,
+saying something she understood to be an inquiry for Miss Herbert.
+
+Miss Herbert was the housekeeper, and Rosalind knew she was at church; but
+when she tried to explain, the old man shook his head, and taking from his
+pocket a tablet with a pencil attached, he held it out to her, touching
+his ear as he uttered the one word "Deaf."
+
+Rosalind understood she was to write her answer, and somewhat flurried she
+sat down on the edge of the bench and with much deliberation and in large
+clear letters conveyed the information, "She is out."
+
+The old man looked at the tablet and then at Rosalind, bowing and smiling
+as if well pleased. "You'll tell her I'm going to the city to-morrow?" he
+asked.
+
+There was something very queer in the way he opened his mouth and used his
+tongue, Rosalind thought, as she nodded emphatically, feeling that this
+singular individual had her at an unfair advantage. At least she would
+find out who he was, and so, as she still held the tablet, she wrote,
+"What is your name?"
+
+He laughed as if this were a joke, and searching in his pocket, produced a
+card which he presented with a bow. On it was printed "C.J. Morgan,
+Cabinet Work."
+
+"What is your name?" he asked.
+
+Rosalind hesitated. She was not sure it at all concerned this stranger to
+know her name, but as he stood smiling and waiting, she did not know how
+to refuse; so she bent over the tablet, her yellow braid falling over her
+shoulder, as she wrote, "Rosalind Patterson Whittredge."
+
+"Mr. Pat's daughter?" There was a twinkle in the old man's eye, and
+surprise and delight in his voice.
+
+Rosalind sprang up, her own eyes shining. "How stupid of me!" she cried.
+"Why, you must be the magician, and you have a funny old shop, where
+father used to play when he was little. Oh, I hope you will let me come to
+see you!" Suddenly remembering the tablet, she looked at it despairingly.
+She couldn't write half she wished to say.
+
+Morgan, however, seemed to understand pretty clearly, to judge from the
+way he laughed and asked if Mr. Pat was well.
+
+Rosalind nodded and wrote, "He has gone to Japan."
+
+"So far? Coming home soon?"
+
+With a mournful countenance she shook her head.
+
+Morgan stood looking down on her with a smile that no longer seemed
+uncanny. Indeed, there was something almost sweet in the rugged face as he
+repeated, "Mr. Pat's little girl, well, well," as if it were quite
+incredible.
+
+Rosalind longed to ask at least a dozen questions, but it is dampening to
+one's ardor to have to spell every word, and she only nodded and smiled in
+her turn as she handed back the tablet.
+
+"I wish father had taught me to talk on my fingers," she thought, feeling
+that one branch of her education had been neglected. "Perhaps Uncle Allan
+will, when he comes."
+
+She watched the odd figure till it disappeared around a turn in the trim
+garden path, then she picked up the big red pillow which had fallen on the
+grass, and replacing it in one corner of the bench, curled herself up
+against it. The hymn book lay forgotten.
+
+"I believe things are really beginning to happen," she said to herself.
+"You need not pretend they are not, for they are," she added, shaking her
+finger at the griffins with their provoking lack of expression. "You
+wouldn't make friends with anybody, not to save their lives, and it seemed
+as if I were never to get acquainted with a soul, when here I have met the
+magician in the most surprising way. And to think I didn't know him!"
+
+The dream spirit was abroad in the garden. Across the lawn the shadows
+made mysterious progress; the sunlight seemed sifted through an enchanted
+veil, and like the touch of fairy fingers was the summer breeze against
+Rosalind's cheek, as with her head against the red pillow, she travelled
+for the first time in her life back into the past.
+
+Back to the dear old library where two students worked, and where from the
+windows one could see the tiled roofs of the university. Back to the world
+of dreams where dwelt that friendly host of story-book people, where only
+a few short weeks ago Friendship, too, with its winding shady streets and
+this same stately garden and the griffins, had belonged as truly as did
+the Forest where that other Rosalind, loveliest of all story people,
+wandered.
+
+Friendship was no longer a dream, and Rosalind, her head against the red
+pillow, was beginning to think that dreams were best.
+
+"If we choose, we may travel always in the Forest, where the birds sing
+and the sunlight sifts through the trees."
+
+These words of Cousin Louis's in his introduction to the old story pleased
+Rosalind's fancy. She liked to shut her eyes and think of the Forest and
+the brave-hearted company gathered there, and always this brought before
+her the fair face of the miniature on her father's desk and a faint, sweet
+memory of clasping arms.
+
+When the doctor with a grave face had said that only rest and change of
+scene could restore Cousin Louis's health, and when Rosalind understood
+that this must mean for her separation from both her dear companions, it
+was to the Forest she had turned.
+
+"I'll pretend I am banished like Rosalind in the story," she had said,
+leaning against her father's shoulder, as he looked over the proofs of
+"The Life of Shakespeare" on which Cousin Louis had worked too hard. "Then
+I'll know I am certain to find you sometime."
+
+Her father's arm had drawn her close,--she liked to recall it now, and
+how, when she added, "But I wish I had Celia and Touchstone to go with
+me," he had answered, "You are certain to find pleasant people in the
+Forest of Arden, little girl." And putting aside the proofs, he had talked
+to her of her grandmother and the old town of Friendship.
+
+She had been almost a week in Friendship now, and--well, things were not
+altogether as she had pictured them. Silver locks and lace caps,
+arm-chairs and some sort of fluffy knitting work, had been a part of her
+idea of a grandmother, and lo! her own grandmother was erect and slender,
+with not a thread of gray in her dark hair, nor a line in her handsome
+face.
+
+She was kind--oh, yes, but so sad in her heavy crepe. Aunt Genevieve in
+her trailing gowns was charming to behold, but no more company for
+Rosalind--at least not much more--than the griffins. Miss Herbert was not
+a merry, comfortable person like their own Mrs. Browne at home. The house
+was very quiet. The garden was beautiful, but she longed to be outside its
+tall iron gates; and she longed--how she longed--for her old companions!
+
+Cousin Louis had given her her favorite story in a binding of soft
+leather, delicious to hold against one's cheek, and her father had added a
+copy of the beautiful miniature. With these treasures she had set out upon
+her journey. But she had begun to feel as if in the great Forest she had
+lost her way, when the friendly face of the magician reassured her.
+
+The sound of sweeping draperies broke in upon her thoughts. It was Aunt
+Genevieve, and she had not learned her hymn. Picking up her book, she
+stole swiftly across the grass till she was hidden by some tall shrubbery.
+Before her was a high hedge of privet; beyond it, among the trees, the
+chimneys of a red brick house.
+
+Walking back and forth, Rosalind began to study in earnest. Looking first
+at her book and then up at the blue sky, she repeated:--
+
+    "'Lo! such the child whose early feet
+        The paths of peace have trod.
+      Whose secret heart with influence sweet
+        Is upward drawn to God.'"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER SECOND.
+
+ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE HEDGE.
+
+"Give me leave to speak my mind."
+
+
+There was another garden on the other side of the hedge; not so large, nor
+so beautifully kept perhaps, but a pleasant garden, for all that. The red
+brick house to which it belonged was by no means so stately as the one
+whose doorstep the griffins guarded, yet it had an importance all its own.
+On week days, when the heavy shutters on the lower front windows were
+open, _The National Bank of Friendship_ was to be seen in gilt letters on
+the glass; on Sundays, however, when they were closed, there was little to
+suggest that it was anything more than a private dwelling. It was a
+square, roomy house, and the part not in use for bank purposes was
+occupied by the cashier, Mr. Milton Roberts, and his family.
+
+While Rosalind, curled up on the garden seat, was thinking of home,
+Maurice Roberts lay in the hammock under the big maple near the side
+porch, where his mother and Miss Betty Bishop sat talking. He held a book,
+but instead of reading was allowing himself the lazy entertainment of
+listening to their conversation.
+
+From his position, a little behind the visitor, he had an excellent view
+of her as she sat erect in the wicker chair, her parasol across her lap.
+Miss Betty was plump and short, and had a dimple in her chin. Her hair,
+which was turning gray, waved prettily back from her forehead into the
+thickest of braids, and altogether there was a pleasant air of crispness
+about her; though something in the keenness of her glance, or the firmness
+with which her lips met, suggested that on occasion she might be
+unyielding. "The Barnwell stubbornness," she herself would have explained,
+with the same complacency she manifested when displaying her grandmother's
+tea-set.
+
+Mrs. Roberts, Maurice's mother, was a gentle person, with large, soft eyes
+and a quiet manner.
+
+The preliminary conversation had not been interesting, pertaining chiefly
+to flowers and the weather, and Maurice gave a sigh of satisfaction when,
+after a moment's pause, Miss Betty straightened herself and remarked,
+"Well, I hear the will is certain to be sustained."
+
+"Then the property will have to be sold?" questioned Mrs. Roberts.
+
+"Yes, and I may as well say good-by to the cream-jug and sugar-dish that
+Cousin Anne always said should be mine. Still, I never shall believe
+Cousin Thomas was out of his mind when he made that last will, it was too
+much like him. Dear knows it ought to be broken, but not on that ground.
+It was a case of pure spite."
+
+"Oh, Betty!"
+
+Maurice smiled to himself at his mother's tone.
+
+"I assure you it was. I knew Cousin Thomas. Didn't Cousin Anne tell me
+dozens of times in his presence, 'Betty, this is your cream-jug and
+sugar-dish, because they match your teapot'?"
+
+"I should think you had enough silver, Betty; still it was a shame Miss
+Anne left that list unsigned," said Mrs. Roberts.
+
+"If you knew Cousin Anne at all, Mrs. Roberts, you knew how hesitating
+she was. She couldn't decide whether to leave the Canton china to Ellen
+Marshall or to Tom's wife. She changed her mind any number of times, but
+she was always clear about my cream-jug and sugar-dish. If Cousin Thomas
+had had any decency, he would have considered her wishes. Think of my own
+grandmother's things put up at public auction!"
+
+"Most of Mr. Gilpin's money goes to the hospital, I suppose," remarked
+Mrs. Roberts.
+
+"Pretty much everything but the real estate in and around Friendship, and
+the contents of the house, all of which will have to be sold and divided
+among his first cousins or their heirs. The only bequests made besides the
+money to the hospital are to Celia Fair and Allan Whittredge. Celia is to
+have the spinet, and Allan that beautiful old ring, if ever it comes to
+light again. I wish Cousin Thomas had left Celia some money. She was one
+person for whom he had a little affection."
+
+Maurice wished so too. He admired Miss Celia Fair, and felt it was too bad
+she should get only an antiquated piano.
+
+"Are the Fairs related to the Gilpins?" his mother asked. Not being a
+native of Friendship, she had difficulty in mastering the intricacies of
+its relationships.
+
+It was ground upon which Miss Betty was entirely at home, however. "They
+were kin to Cousin Thomas's wife," she explained. "Mrs. Fair's grandmother
+was half-sister to Cousin Emma's mother, and raised Cousin Emma as her own
+child. Of course it is not very near when it comes to Celia. The spinet
+belonged to old Mrs. Johnson,--Celia's great-grandmother, you know,--whose
+name was also Celia. Saint Cecilia, they used to call her, because she was
+so good and played and sang so sweetly. It is right the spinet should go
+to Celia, but that would not have influenced Cousin Thomas a minute if he
+had not wished her to have it."
+
+"And the ring has never been heard of?" Mrs. Roberts asked, as her visitor
+paused for breath.
+
+"I doubt if it ever comes to light. It is nearly three years now since it
+disappeared," was the reply. Miss Betty looked up at the vines above her
+head, and her lips curled into a sort of half smile. "I should like to
+hear Cousin Ellen Whittredge on the will," she added. "I don't think she
+cares much about the money, however; it is more that old feeling against
+Dr. Fair. You remember he testified to Mr. Gilpin's sanity."
+
+"And her son?" asked Mrs. Roberts.
+
+"Allan? It is hard to find out what Allan thinks, but there is no
+bitterness in him. He is like his father, poor man! What I am curious to
+know is, what Cousin Thomas meant by saying in his will that Allan knew
+his wishes in regard to the ring. That strikes me as a little sensational.
+I asked Allan about it the last time I saw him, but he only laughed and
+said he'd have to get it before he could dispose of it."
+
+Miss Betty now made some motions preliminary to rising, but as if on
+second thought, she laid her parasol across her knees again and asked,
+"Have you heard that Patterson's daughter is here?"
+
+"Yes, I think I saw her in the carriage with her grandmother yesterday,"
+was Mrs. Roberts's reply.
+
+This was news to Maurice, and he listened with interest.
+
+Miss Betty shook her head. "I am surprised," she said. "That marriage of
+Patterson's was a dreadful blow to Cousin Ellen."
+
+"It seems to me she was unreasonable about it. I am glad she sent for him
+before his father died." Mrs. Roberts spoke with some hesitation. She did
+not often array her own opinions against those of her friends.
+
+"I don't blame her as some do. A person of that sort, and Patterson the
+very light of her eyes! How would you feel if Maurice some day should do a
+thing like that?"
+
+Maurice laughed softly. His thoughts were not much occupied with marriage.
+His mother ignored the question, and in her turn asked, "Did Mrs.
+Whittredge ever see her daughter-in-law?"
+
+"No, indeed. This child was not more than three when she died."
+
+"Poor little thing!" Mrs. Roberts sighed.
+
+"Such a name! I detest fancy names. Rosalind!" Miss Betty rose.
+
+"A good old English name and very pretty, I think. Was it her mother's?"
+
+"I suppose so, but I don't know. Yes, I must go; Sophy will think I am
+lost. Good-by," and Miss Betty stepped briskly down the path.
+
+The gate had hardly closed when Maurice heard some one calling him.
+Looking over his shoulder, he saw his sister Katherine beckoning.
+
+"Maurice, Maurice, do come here; I want you to see something."
+
+Her tone impressed him as unduly mysterious. "What is it?" he asked
+indifferently.
+
+"Come, and I'll show you."
+
+"I sha'n't come till you tell me," he persisted.
+
+"Oh, I think you might, because if I stop to tell you she may be gone."
+
+"Who'll be gone? You might have told it twice over in this time."
+
+"The girl I want you to see," explained Katherine, drawing nearer in
+desperation. "Did you know there was a girl next door?"
+
+"Yes, of course." There was nothing in Maurice's tone to indicate how
+brief a time had passed since this information had been acquired.
+
+"Truly? I don't believe it," Katherine faltered.
+
+"She is Mrs. Whittredge's granddaughter, and her name is Rosalind, so
+now!"
+
+Privately, Katherine thought her brother's power of finding things out,
+little short of supernatural. "Don't you want to see her?" she asked
+meekly. "There is a thin place in the hedge behind the calycanthus bush,
+and she is walking to and fro studying something." Would Maurice declare
+he had already seen this girl?
+
+Maurice sat up and reached for a crutch that rested against the tree. He
+had his share of curiosity. He was a tall, well-grown boy of thirteen, and
+it was apparent as he swung himself after Katherine, that accident and not
+disease had caused his lameness.
+
+Rosalind, studying her hymn all unconscious of observation, was a pleasant
+sight.
+
+"Isn't she pretty?" whispered Katherine, but Maurice silenced her so
+sternly she concluded he did not agree with her.
+
+In reality he thought very much as she did, although he would not have
+used the same adjective. There was something unusual about this girl. Why
+it was, he did not understand, but she seemed somehow to belong in a
+special way to the sweet old garden with its June roses. Maurice had
+fancies that would have astonished Katherine beyond measure if she could
+have known anything about them. But how was she to know when he pinched
+her arm and looked sternly indifferent?
+
+The tea bell called them back to the house; on the way Katherine's
+enthusiasm burst forth afresh.
+
+"Isn't she sweet? and such a beautiful name--Rosalind. How old do you
+think she is? and do you suppose she is going to live there? Oh, Maurice,
+shouldn't you be afraid of Mrs. Whittredge?"
+
+"I don't know anything about her," Maurice replied, forgetting for the
+moment that he bad been pretending to know a great deal.
+
+"I should like to have my hair tied on top of my head with a big ribbon
+bow as hers is," continued Katherine, who would innocently persist in
+laying herself open to brotherly scorn.
+
+"I suppose you think you will look like her then," was his retort.
+
+"Now, Maurice, I don't. I know I am not pretty." Katharine's round face
+grew suddenly long, and tears filled her blue eyes.
+
+"Don't be a goose, then. I'll tell you what she made me think of, that
+statue of Joan of Arc--don't you remember? Where she is listening to the
+voices? We saw it at the Academy of Fine Arts."
+
+"Why, Maurice, how funny! She is much prettier than that," said
+Katherine.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER THIRD.
+
+FRIENDSHIP.
+
+"True it is that we have seen better days."
+
+
+A rambling, sleepy town was Friendship, with few aspirations beyond the
+traditions of its grandfathers and a fine indifference toward modern
+improvements.
+
+During the era of monstrous creations in black walnut it had clung to its
+old mahogany and rosewood, and chromos had never displaced in its
+affections the time-worn colored prints of little Samuel or flower-decked
+shepherdesses. In consequence of this conservatism Friendship one day
+awoke in the fashion.
+
+There were fine old homes in Friendship which in their soft-toned browns
+and grays seemed as much a part of the landscape as the forest trees that
+surrounded them and shaded the broad street. Associated with these
+mansions were names dignified and substantial, such as Molesworth,
+Parton, Gilpin, Whittredge.
+
+In times past the atmosphere of the village had seemed to be pervaded by
+something of the spirit of its name, for here life flowed on serenely in
+old grooves and its ways were the peaceful ways of friendship. But of late
+years, alas! something alien and discordant had crept in.
+
+    '"And what is Friendship but a name--'"
+
+quoted the cabinet-maker sadly one morning when after climbing the hill
+from the wharf he paused to rest on the low stone wall surrounding the
+Gilpin place.
+
+Landing Lane ended at the top of the hill, and here at right angles to it
+the Main Street of Friendship might be said to begin, slowly descending to
+a level and following the leisurely curves of the old stage road till it
+came to a straggling end at the foot of another prominence known as Red
+Hill.
+
+In forty years a life takes deep root, and this time had passed since
+Morgan, a raw Scotch boy of eighteen, had come to Friendship as assistant
+to the village cabinet-maker. A year or two later an illness deprived him
+of his hearing, but fortunately not of his skill, and upon the death of
+his employer he succeeded to the business, his kindly, simple nature,
+together with his misfortune, having won the heart of Friendship.
+
+His fame for making and doing over furniture had spread beyond the borders
+of the town; his opinion was valued highly by collectors, and it was said
+he might have made a fortune in the city. But what use had he for a
+fortune? It was the friendly greetings, the neighborly kindnesses, the
+comradeship with the children of the village, that made his life.
+
+In spite of its rugged lines his face as he grew older had taken on a
+singularly sweet expression, but it was sad to-day as he sat on the wall
+in his knit jacket and work apron, looking down on the town, its roofs and
+spires showing amongst the trees. It seemed to him that the times were out
+of joint, and his cheerful philosophy was beginning to fail him. Something
+had been wrong ever since Patterson Whittredge went away, more than a
+dozen years ago.
+
+Morgan never failed to follow with interest the careers of the boys of
+Friendship as they went out into the world, and of all the boys of the
+village Patterson had been his favorite. He had understood the trouble as
+well as if it had been carefully explained to him. His deafness had
+quickened his insight. A girl's lovely face on Pat's dressing-table, seen
+when he replaced a broken caster, partly told the story, and Mrs.
+Whittredge's pride and determination were no secret to any one.
+
+Judge Whittredge's whitening head and heavy step, his fruitless search for
+health abroad, his return to die at last in his old home, Patterson's
+coming,--sent for by his heart-broken mother,--this was the rest of the
+story. But before this family difference had been settled by the stern
+hand of death, the removal of Thomas Gilpin had precipitated another
+quarrel upon the town.
+
+It was a puzzle to Morgan that a man like his old friend Mr. Gilpin, who
+had it in his power to do so much good, should have chosen to do harm
+instead. As he rose to go, he looked over his shoulder at the old house,
+closed and deserted since the death of its owner.
+
+The site was a beautiful one, commanding a view of valley and hill and the
+narrow winding river. The house, an unpretentious square of red brick,
+with sloping roof and dormer windows, wore its hundred years with dignity,
+and amid its fine trees was an object of interest to strangers, of pride
+to the villagers.
+
+Below it on the slope stood a more modern house, in what had been until
+recently a handsome garden. Morgan, as he passed recalled how proud Dr.
+Fair had been of his flowers. Celia, who was entering the gate, nodded and
+smiled brightly. He noted, however, that her face was losing its soft
+curves and rose tints. Celia was another of his favorites, and he knew she
+was having her battle with misfortune, meeting it as bravely as a young
+woman could. Thomas Gilpin might so easily have smoothed the way for her.
+The spinet was an interesting heirloom, no doubt, but would not help Celia
+solve the problem of bread and butter.
+
+The shop of the cabinet-maker was just off Main Street, at the foot of the
+hill. To its original two rooms he had added two more, and here he lived
+with no companions but a striped cat and a curly dog, who endured each
+other and shared the affection of their master.
+
+Morgan's housekeeping was not burdensome. Certain of his neighbors always
+remembered him on baking day, and his tastes were simple. His shop opened
+immediately on the street; back of it was his living room and the small
+garden where he cultivated the gayest blooms. The living room had an open
+fireplace, for it was one of the cabinet-maker's pleasures to sit in the
+firelight when the work of the day was over, and a small oil stove
+sufficed for his cooking. On one side of the chimney was a high-backed
+settle, and above it a book shelf. Like most Scotch boys, he had had a
+fair education, and possessed a genuine reverence for books and a love of
+reading. In the opposite corner was an ancient mahogany desk where he kept
+his accounts, and near by in the window a shelf always full of plants in
+the winter. A cupboard of his own manufacture, a table, a lamp, and an
+arm-chair completed the furniture of the room. The walls he had painted a
+dull red, and over the fireplace in fanciful letters had traced this
+motto: "Good in everything."
+
+To this cheerful belief Morgan held firmly, although there were times like
+this morning, when coming out of the sunlight and feeling a little weary,
+he noticed that the walls were growing dingy and the motto dim, and sighed
+to think how hard it was to see the good in some things.
+
+He placed a paper in the old secretary and was turning toward the shop
+when he stopped short in amazement, for in the doorway stood Rosalind, her
+face full of eagerness. Behind her was Miss Herbert, whom Morgan entirely
+overlooked in his pleasure at seeing Mr. Pat's little girl again.
+
+He shook hands warmly and offered the arm-chair, but Rosalind had no
+thought of sitting down. As she gazed with bright-eyed interest around the
+room, her glance fell on the motto, and she pointed to it and then to
+herself.
+
+The cabinet-maker was puzzled. "Is it your motto?" he asked.
+
+She nodded brightly.
+
+Morgan turned to the shelf, took down a large volume of Shakespeare's
+plays, and laying it on the table began to turn the pages rapidly.
+Rosalind looked over his arm. He ran his finger down a leaf presently and
+pointed to the line. "There," he said.
+
+Rosalind turned back a page and pointed to her own name, and then they
+both laughed as if it were a great coincidence.
+
+A sharp tap on his arm made Miss Herbert's presence known to Morgan. Miss
+Herbert was not of Friendship. She knew the value of time if the
+cabinet-maker did not, and had no idea of waiting while he discussed
+Shakespeare in pantomime with Rosalind.
+
+Miss Herbert with the aid of the tablet, and Morgan with many queer
+gestures to help out his faltering tongue, so long without the guide of
+hearing, contrived to despatch the business relating to a claw-footed
+sofa. When it was finished, Rosalind was missing, and was discovered in
+the little garden, making friends with the black poodle, while the striped
+cat looked on from the fence.
+
+It was with evident reluctance she accompanied Miss Herbert to the
+carriage. Before she left she took the tablet and wrote, "I am going to
+learn to talk on my fingers."
+
+"Good," the cabinet-maker answered, and he followed them to the street,
+smiling and nodding. "Come again," he called as they drove away.
+
+When he returned to the shop, the world seemed brighter, the mist of doubt
+had lifted.
+
+"The rough places can't last always," he told himself as he sandpapered
+the claw toes of the sofa. "We are certain to come to a turn in the lane
+after a while. There's good in everything, somewhere."
+
+Perhaps the coming of Mr. Pat's little girl was a good omen. To him at
+least it was a most interesting event, nor was he the only person in
+Friendship who found it so.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FOURTH.
+
+AN UNQUIET MORNING.
+
+"You amaze me, ladies."
+
+
+Farther up the street on the other side, but within sight of the
+Whittredges', was Mrs. Graham's Boarding and Day School for Young Ladies.
+
+The broad, one story and a half mansion, with rooms enough for a small
+hotel, was still known as the Bishop place, although nearly twenty years
+had passed since the little brown and white house on Church Street had
+opened its doors to Miss Betty and her invalid father, and to such of the
+massive furniture as could be accommodated within its walls. In her
+circular Mrs. Graham was careful to state that her school was commodiously
+housed in the mansion of the late distinguished Senator Charlton H.
+Bishop, and many a daughter groaned over her algebra or French verbs in
+the very room where her mother or grandmother before her had fleeted the
+time carelessly in evenings long past, for brilliant was the tradition of
+the Bishop hospitality.
+
+Celia Fair, who taught drawing in the school, and on occasion kept study
+hour in what had once been the long drawing-room, had a fancy that the
+spirit of those days was responsible for many an outburst of mischief. At
+present Mrs. Graham's pupils were in a fever of curiosity over the new
+arrival at the Whittredges'.
+
+The Whittredge place had been invested by them with something of a halo of
+romance, founded chiefly on the seclusion In which it pleased Mrs.
+Whittredge to live. Bits of gossip let fall by their elders were eagerly
+treasured; it became the fashion, to rave over the beauty of the haughty
+Miss Genevieve, and even her brother who was not haughty, but quite like
+other people, was allowed a share of the halo on account of his connection
+with the lost ring, made famous by the contested will.
+
+Katherine Roberts, returning to school after several days' absence, found
+herself unusually popular. Katherine lived next door to the unknown; she
+had seen her; it was even said she had heard her speak. Excitement grew
+as the news spread.
+
+The girls were standing in groups on the porch and steps, laughing and
+talking together, and at sight of Katherine gave her an uproarious
+greeting.
+
+Round, rosy-faced, blue-eyed Katherine, with her brown hair in two tight
+plaits turned under and tied with a ribbon behind her ears, was a little
+abashed at the attention she excited.
+
+"What is she like, Katherine? tell us--the new girl at the Whittredges'."
+
+"She is standing at the gate now," answered Katherine, looking over her
+shoulder.
+
+"Is she? Oh, where?"
+
+"Let's walk by and see her."
+
+"We'll be tardy if we do, and at any rate there is the carriage; perhaps
+they will drive past."
+
+"Look! there's Miss Genevieve. No, they are going the other way."
+
+"What are you staring at?" demanded Belle Parton, joining the group. Belle
+was a gypsy-looking girl with merry black eyes, and hair that refused to
+be smooth like Katherine's, but continually fell in her eyes. As she spoke
+she put her hat on the step and proceeded to adjust the round comb she
+wore.
+
+"The Whittredge girl. Have you seen her, Belle?" asked Charlotte Ellis.
+
+"No; what is she like?"
+
+"Katherine is the only one who has seen her; she says she is lovely."
+
+"Oh, she is! You ought to see her, Belle. Maurice and I peeped through the
+hedge and saw her walking to and fro studying something. And her name is
+Rosalind. Isn't that a beautiful name?"
+
+"I don't believe she is much," Belle announced, with a turn of her head.
+The only reason she had for saying this was the naughty one of wishing to
+snub Katherine, who took everything in earnest and now looked crestfallen.
+
+"Never mind, Kit; tell us some more about her," urged one of the others.
+
+"Grandmamma says she is surprised at Mrs. Whittredge's having her here.
+You know she would have nothing to do with her son after he married, until
+lately, and she never saw her granddaughter before, I think family
+quarrels are awfully interesting; don't you?" As Charlotte spoke, the
+bell rang, and the girls turned toward the house.
+
+"Do you, Charlotte?" exclaimed Katherine, who was accustomed to pin her
+faith to her friend's opinions, but thought that quarrels being wrong
+could not be interesting.
+
+"I think so, too. They are so delightfully mysterious," echoed another of
+the girls.
+
+"Nonsense! What is there that is mysterious?" put in pugnacious Belle.
+
+It may have been the alluring summer day, or the fact that it was near the
+end of the term, and discipline had relaxed, but certain it was that a
+general restlessness and inclination to whisper pervaded the study hour.
+It was the fashion among the girls to adore Celia. Fair, and usually she
+had no difficulty in keeping order, but this morning even her presence was
+without effect.
+
+Belle Parton had her history propped up before her in a way that suggested
+some mischief going on behind its shelter, rather than any serious study.
+Katherine, who was honestly trying to study, was distracted by the signals
+flying around her. Charlotte Ellis, whose seat was near the window,
+seemed principally occupied in peeping between the sash curtains.
+
+Celia had looked up for the second time to say, "Girls, I must have better
+order," and things had for several minutes quieted down, when Charlotte
+suddenly announced in a loud whisper, "Here they come!" and with that
+there was a rush for the windows.
+
+The cause of the excitement was of course the Whittredge carriage, but all
+anybody caught was a fleeting glimpse of a white dress beside Miss
+Genevieve's black one, and, as luck would have it, Mrs. Graham opened the
+door just in time to witness the scramble for a view.
+
+"Young ladies, you amaze me! What is the meaning of this?" she demanded,
+as the girls, half of whom had rushed because the others had, returned
+abashed to their seats.
+
+"I never knew them to behave so before," said Celia, in apology.
+"Something seems to be wrong to-day."
+
+"Wrong, indeed," repeated Mrs. Graham, who was a person of somewhat
+majestic appearance. Then her glance fell on Belle's desk. "And this
+explains the rapid disappearance of my chalk!" she added, holding up to
+view a pen tray on which were arranged a number of tiny goblets and dishes
+neatly cut out of chalk.
+
+Katherine, who had not left her seat, laughed nervously. She stood in
+great awe of the principal, and she did not in the least wish to laugh.
+
+Mrs. Graham looked at her sternly, "One mark in deportment, Katherine, and
+three to those who left their desks, and you will all spend your recess
+indoors. Belle, I will see you in the office."
+
+Belle followed Mrs. Graham, with her head held high, her lips pursed up
+saucily, her black eyes snapping. Katherine, through her own tear-filled
+ones, watched her in astonishment.
+
+When Belle returned study hour was over, and the culprits who were
+condemned to stay indoors had grouped themselves beside the window.
+
+"What did she do to you, Belle?" they cried.
+
+"Nothing,--just talked. She said it was wasting time and chalk, and that
+it wasn't honest. Such a fuss about a little chalk!"
+
+Celia Fair, who had her hat on, ready to go home, came behind Belle, and
+with a hand on either side of her face she lifted it till the saucy eyes
+looked into her own. "Does that make any difference, really--because it is
+just chalk?" she asked.
+
+Belle wriggled out of her hands, only to clasp her around the waist. "I
+wouldn't take your chalk," she said, laughing.
+
+"I don't know what to think of you to-day," Miss Fair continued, looking
+around the group. "I am afraid Mrs. Graham will not trust me to keep study
+hour after this."
+
+There was a general cry of, "Oh, Miss Celia, why not?"
+
+"Do you think she can have a high opinion of my ability to keep order?"
+
+"But no one else could do any better."
+
+"If Mrs. Graham had been here, you would not have rushed to the window, I
+know very well."
+
+"But we are so much fonder of you, Miss Celia," urged Charlotte.
+
+"If that is the case I'd like you to show it by behaving," said Celia, as
+she left the room.
+
+When Belle told at home about the day's occurrences, her father laughed.
+
+"I shall tell Mrs. Graham she must introduce manual training. 'Satan finds
+some mischief still,' you see. Maybe Belle will turn out a famous
+sculptor."
+
+"At any rate, colonel, you ought not to encourage her in such pranks,"
+Mrs. Parton remarked, shaking her head at her husband, who never saw
+anything to criticise in the one little daughter among his five boys.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FIFTH.
+
+MAURICE.
+
+"The stubbornness of fortune."
+
+
+It was the first of the month, and a steady stream of people passed in and
+out of the bank. Maurice sat on the steps leading up to the private
+entrance, and with few exceptions each new-comer had a pleasant greeting
+or kindly inquiry for him.
+
+Miss Betty Bishop rustling out, bank book in hand, called, "How are you,
+Maurice? When are you and Katherine coming to take tea with me? Let me
+know and I'll have waffles."
+
+The cabinet-maker came to the foot of the steps to ask about the lame
+knee, and shook his head in sympathy with Maurice's doleful face.
+
+Colonel Parton, a tall, gray-mustached man, accompanied by two hunting
+dogs, hailed him: "Not going with the boys? Ah, I forgot your knee. Too
+bad! Jack's got the dandiest new fishing-rod you ever saw."
+
+"As if I didn't know it," growled Maurice, us the colonel entered the
+bank.
+
+The next person to accost him was Miss Celia Fair. She hadn't any bank
+business, but seeing Maurice as she passed, stopped to speak to him. She
+sat down beside him and tried in her pretty, soft way to cheer him.
+
+"Don't look so gloomy, dear; you know if you are careful you will soon be
+all right again," she said.
+
+At this Maurice poured forth all his disappointment at not being able to
+go with the Parton boys on their excursion down the bay.
+
+"I am just as sorry for you as I can be," said Celia, clasping her hands
+in her lap--such slender hands--and looking far away as if she were tired
+of everything near by. It was only for a moment, then she said with a
+little laugh, "You can't possibly understand, Maurice, but I shouldn't
+mind a sprained knee in the least; I think I could even enjoy it, if I
+hadn't any more responsibility than you have."
+
+"But you don't care to go fishing," he suggested.
+
+"Oh, yes, I do; I like to fish." With a smile she said good-by, and went
+away.
+
+After this Maurice settled down into deeper despondency than before. He
+had refused an invitation to drive, hid treated with bitter scorn
+Katherine's suggestion that he might like to go out to the creek with her
+and Blossom. "You could ride in the stage, you know, and have to walk only
+the least little bit," she said.
+
+"Thank you; it is _such_ fun to throw stones in the water," he replied,
+with elaborate politeness.
+
+That Maurice was badly spoiled was no secret. The only boy in the family,
+with bright, engaging ways when things went to please him, he had been
+petted and humored by his parents, given up to by Katherine, and treated
+as a leader by his boy friends, until he had come to look upon his own
+pleasure as the most important thing in the universe. Not that he realized
+this. He would have been greatly surprised to hear he was selfish.
+
+The accident by which his knee had been sprained severely was an
+experience as trying as it was new to him. At first the petting he
+received at home, and the attentions of his friends, added to his sense of
+importance and made it endurable, but this could not continue
+indefinitely. Ball playing and other sports must go on, and Maurice, to
+his aggrieved surprise, found they could go on very well without him.
+
+This morning his mother had expostulated mildly. "My son, you ought not to
+make yourself so miserable. You could not be more unhappy if you were to
+be lame always."
+
+"It is _now_ I care about," he replied petulantly.
+
+"I don't know what to do with Maurice," he overheard her say to his father
+in the hall.
+
+"Let him alone. I am ashamed of him," was Mr. Roberts's reply.
+
+And now, deserted and abused, Maurice was very miserable, and when he
+could stand it no longer he sought a distant spot in the garden and threw
+himself face down in the grass.
+
+He had been lying here some time when a voice apparently quite near asked,
+"Have you hurt yourself?"
+
+Lifting his flushed, unhappy face, he saw peeping at him through the hedge
+the girl Katherine had been so interested in on Sunday. She, too, was
+lying on the grass, and her fair hair was spread out around her like a
+veil. Maurice raised himself on his elbow and surveyed her in surprise,
+forgetting to reply.
+
+"What is the matter?" she asked again, looking at him with a pair of
+serious gray eyes.
+
+"Nothing," he answered.
+
+The gray eyes grew merry. Rosalind laughed, as she said, "Then you ought
+not to groan. I thought when I heard you, perhaps you had fallen from a
+tree."
+
+"I wasn't groaning," he protested, feeling ashamed.
+
+"Maybe you call it sighing, but it was dreadfully deep."
+
+"Well, I think a fellow has a right to sigh when he can't do anything or
+go anywhere; and everybody else is having a good time," Maurice felt
+anxious to vindicate himself.
+
+"I am not having a good time," said Rosalind, "at least not very; but then
+you know if you stay in the Forest of Arden, something pleasant is bound
+to happen before long."
+
+Maurice stared at her blankly.
+
+"Perhaps you don't know the story," Rosalind suggested.
+
+"What story?"
+
+"Its real name is 'As You Like It,' but I call it 'The Story of the
+Forest.'"
+
+"What is it about?"
+
+"Oh,--about a banished duke, who lived in the Forest, like Robin Hood, you
+know, with a lot of people who were fond of him. He had a daughter, named
+Rosalind, and after a while she was banished too and went to look for her
+father in the Forest. Her cousin Celia and a funny clown, Touchstone, went
+with her, and they were all disguised. And--well, there is a great deal
+more to it--but they were all cheerful and brave--everybody is in the
+Forest of Arden, because they are sure there is good in everything if you
+only try to find it."
+
+"But that is all a story. It isn't true."
+
+"Oh, yes, it is."
+
+"There wasn't a bit of good in hurting my knee and having the whole summer
+spoiled." Maurice's tone was undeniably fretful.
+
+"If you had been banished as Rosalind was, I suppose you would not have
+thought there was any good in that; but she didn't cry about it. She made
+the best of it, and had a good time in spite of it."
+
+"Who says I was crying?" Maurice demanded angrily.
+
+Rosalind opened her gray eyes wide, then she sat up and tossed back her
+hair. Maurice felt convicted of rudeness. Was she going? He hoped not, for
+he wished to talk to her.
+
+"I suppose I am rather cross," he acknowledged; "but don't you think it is
+pretty hard to hurt your knee and have to walk with a crutch, and stay at
+home when the other boys go fishing?"
+
+"Yes, indeed. Does it hurt much?" Rosalind asked, with ready sympathy.
+
+"No, not now; it did at first, but the doctor says it will be five or six
+months before it is well again."
+
+"Then it isn't for always? That is something good."
+
+Maurice somehow felt uncomfortable. He did not wish the emphasis laid on
+the good. It seemed wise to change the subject. "What a lot of hair you
+have," he remarked.
+
+"It has been washed, and grandmamma said I might dry it in the sun,"
+Rosalind explained, shaking her head so vigorously she was enveloped in a
+shining cloud.
+
+"Isn't it a great bother? Kit hates to have hers braided."
+
+"Who is Kit?"
+
+"She is my sister Katherine."
+
+"It must be nice to have a sister. I haven't anybody but father and Cousin
+Louis, and of course they are better than any one else. There are
+grandmamma and Aunt Genevieve, but I am not very well acquainted with them
+yet. I should love to have some children related to me."
+
+I have a little sister, too; her name is Blossom. That is, her real name
+is Mary, and we call her Blossom."
+
+"Kit and Blossom; and what is your name?" Rosalind asked.
+
+"Maurice Roberts."
+
+Rosalind tossed back her hair and began to twist it into a shining rope.
+"I am Rosalind Whittredge," she said. "I should not think you would ever
+be unhappy," she added.
+
+"Do you know, I saw you last Sunday when you were studying something. Kit
+and I peeped at you through the hedge."
+
+"I was learning a hymn for grandmamma. Why didn't you speak to me?"
+
+"I didn't know whether you'd like it."
+
+"Why, of course I should have liked it. I was beginning to think that day
+I should never get acquainted with any one, and I was feeling dreadfully
+lonesome when the magician came in."
+
+"The magician?" Maurice exclaimed. Certainly this was a singular girl who
+talked about magicians in an everyday tone.
+
+Rosalind laughed. "I mean Morgan, who does cabinet work. Do you know him?"
+
+"Everybody in Friendship knows Morgan. He is a good fellow, too. Why do
+you call him the magician?"
+
+"Because that is what father called him when he was a little boy. Once
+when Morgan had made an old desk look like new, grandfather said he was a
+magician, and father, who heard him, thought he meant it really. Father
+and Uncle Allan used to play in his shop and talk on their fingers to him.
+Can you do that?"
+
+"Why, yes; I'll teach you if you like."
+
+"I should like it very much. It is so tiresome to write things."
+
+"Morgan is very clever, too, about understanding. You only begin to spell
+a word when he guesses what you want to say," Maurice added.
+
+"I went to his shop the other day with Miss Herbert, but she wouldn't let
+me stay long. I made friends with his funny dog."
+
+"Do you know what we call him? Curly Q. And the cat--did you see him? He
+is Crisscross."
+
+"How funny," said Rosalind. "I think they are very good names. Crisscross
+wouldn't have anything to do with me."
+
+"Are you going to live here?" Maurice asked.
+
+"No; but I shall be here a long time. I think Friendship is a nice place,
+and funny too, because it has a bank with a garden around it. At home our
+banks are all on the street and have offices over them."
+
+"Yes; Friendship isn't a city," Maurice acknowledged apologetically. "I
+should like to live in a big city."
+
+"I like Friendship. It only seems a little odd, you know," Rosalind
+hastened to add. "Do they ever let you go into the bank part of your
+house?"
+
+"Why, of course, I can go in whenever I choose. My father is the cashier,
+and it is to take care of the bank that we live here."
+
+The conversation was brought to an end by a maid sent to find Rosalind.
+After she had gone Maurice saw a book on the grass where she had been
+lying, and reaching through the hedge with his crutch, he drew it toward
+him. When he removed the outside cover, even his uncritical eye saw it was
+a handsome hook. "Shakespeare's 'As You Like It.' Edited by Louis A.
+Sargent," he read. "Why, it is one of Shakespeare's plays," he said, in
+surprise. So this was the story Rosalind was talking about.
+
+On the fly-leaf was some writing in small clear letters. "For Rosalind,
+with the wish that she may meet the hard things of life as bravely, and
+find as much happiness by the way, as did her namesake in the Forest of
+Arden. From her friend, Louis A. Sargent."
+
+"Meet the hard things of life as bravely--" Maurice's face grew hot. "You
+wouldn't have thought there was any good in that." The touch of scorn in
+Rosalind's tone stung as he recalled it. He turned the leaves and began to
+read.
+
+It was a pleasure to look at the large clear type; he soon became
+interested.
+
+Half an hour later Katherine's voice broke in upon the Forest of Arden.
+"Maurice, Maurice, what are you doing? Mother sent me to find you."
+
+"I am reading. Don't bother, please," was the reply, in a tone so far
+removed from melancholy that Katherine, reassured, obediently retired.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER SIXTH.
+
+PUZZLES.
+
+"How weary are my spirits!"
+
+
+Up to this time life had been a simple and joyous matter to Rosalind. She
+had known her own small trials and perplexities, but her father or Cousin
+Louis were always at hand to smooth out tangles and show her how to be
+merry over difficulties. Now all was different. There were puzzles on
+every side and no one to turn to.
+
+The house behind the griffins was not exactly a cheerful place. Rosalind
+found herself stealing about on tiptoe lest she disturb the silence of the
+spacious rooms. She hardly ventured to more than peep into the
+drawing-room, where Miss Herbert's liking for twilight effects had full
+sway. There was a pier table here, supported by griffins, the counterpart
+in feature of those on the doorstep, which she longed to examine, but the
+shades were always drawn and the handsome draperies of damask and lace
+hung in such perfect folds she dared not disturb them.
+
+Where was the charm of her father's stories of Friendship? Was it because
+her grandfather was dead that everything had changed? This was why her
+grandmother wore black dresses and added that heavy veil when she went
+out. Rosalind once drew a corner of it over her own face and the gloom
+appalled her.
+
+She ventured to say one day as they drove along a pleasant country road,
+"Grandmamma, you don't know how bright the sunshine is," and Mrs.
+Whittredge replied, "I do not wish to know, Rosalind; nothing can ever
+again be bright to me." Yet if she would only look, she must see that it
+was bright. This was one puzzle.
+
+Aunt Genevieve's manner was another. It was as if she scorned everything,
+and sometimes it made Rosalind almost angry.
+
+On the day of her meeting with Maurice, she ate her lunch with a glance
+every few minutes at her great-uncle Allan on the opposite wall. A very
+black portrait, it seemed only a meaningless blur till in a certain light
+the strong face and stern eyes shone out of the surrounding gloom with
+startling effect. She sometimes wondered rather anxiously if the uncle to
+whose home-coming she looked forward, could by any possibility be like the
+person for whom he was named. It was not an agreeable face, yet it drew
+her gaze with an irresistible attraction. She was convinced that on
+occasion the heavy brows contracted and the eyes grew even sterner.
+
+In the next panel hung Matilda, his wife, as the massive marble in the
+cemetery said,--a youthful person with side curls and a comfortable smile.
+
+Even with its southern windows the dining room was sombre in its massive
+furnishings of Flemish oak. Very different from the one at home, with its
+sunshine and flowers, its overflow of books from the study, and the odds
+and ends of pottery picked up by father and Cousin Louis in their travels.
+
+Rosalind was thinking that the plain little room of the magician was the
+pleasantest place she knew in Friendship, when Martin entered with
+something in his hand, announcing in his courtly way, "A book for Miss
+Rosalind." It seemed to her that Martin, with his grizzled head and dusky
+face, had the most beautiful manners ever seen.
+
+"For me, Martin?" she exclaimed.
+
+"The young gentleman from next door left it," said Martin.
+
+"I did not know you knew any one next door, Rosalind," Mrs. Whittredge
+remarked questioningly.
+
+"I am not very well acquainted, grandmamma," Rosalind answered, seeing
+suddenly in the handsome face a likeness to the dark portrait; "but I
+talked to Maurice through the hedge this morning. I remember now, I had my
+book. I must have left it on the grass."
+
+"I believe Rosalind seldom loses an opportunity to speak to people. Miss
+Herbert says she is on quite intimate terms with Morgan," remarked Miss
+Genevieve.
+
+"Father told me about Morgan," Rosalind began apologetically, adding more
+confidently, "I like to know people."
+
+"Your father over again," Mrs. Whittredge said, smiling. "What is your
+book, dear?"
+
+"'As You Like It.' Cousin Louis gave it to me." As she spoke Rosalind
+caught the glance exchanged by her grandmother and aunt.
+
+"When I was a little girl Cousin Louis told me the story because it is
+about Rosalind, you know, and ever since I have called it my story,
+because I like it best of all."
+
+No comment was made on this explanation, and it seemed to her the next
+time she looked in his direction, that Uncle Allan frowned.
+
+When luncheon was over she went out to the garden seat under the birch,
+carrying with her an old green speller found in a bookcase upstairs. In
+the back of it she had discovered the deaf and dumb alphabet, so now she
+would not have to wait for Maurice to teach her; she could learn it by
+herself. It did not seem difficult. With the spelling book propped open in
+one corner of the bench she went carefully over it, and then tried to
+think of words she was most likely to want to use in talking with Morgan;
+but this was slower work, and the thought that for some unknown reason her
+grandmother was displeased with her kept claiming her attention.
+
+When father was displeased with her--and this was not often--he always
+told her, and they talked it over frankly, but grandmamma and Aunt
+Genevieve only looked at each other and said nothing. It both puzzled her
+and hurt her dignity to be treated in this way.
+
+Presently it occurred to her that her grandmother might have been vexed at
+her carelessness in leaving her book on the grass. It was careless; father
+would have said so. Well, she could let grandmamma know she was sorry, and
+feeling relieved at having found a possible solution of the problem, she
+closed the spelling book.
+
+Mrs. Whittredge looked up in evident surprise when Rosalind entered the
+room and announced, "I am sorry I left my book on the grass, grandmamma."
+
+"What do you mean, my dear?" she asked.
+
+"I thought you didn't like it because I was careless."
+
+"I suppose it was careless, my pet, but I had not thought of it. But tell
+me what makes you care so much for that book. It seems to me there are
+many stories that would be more interesting to a little girl. Suppose you
+put it away and let me find you something else."
+
+The color deepened in Rosalind's face. "It is my own, own book," she
+cried, clasping it to her heart.
+
+"Very well, you need not be tragic about it," Mrs. Whittredge said coldly,
+turning to her writing.
+
+Again Rosalind knew she had offended, and this time her resentment was
+aroused. "I don't like to be spoken to in that way," she told herself, as
+she walked from the room.
+
+Before she had reached the head of the stairs her grandmother's voice
+called her hack. Reluctantly she returned.
+
+Mrs. Whittredge had risen and now came to meet her and put her arm around
+her, and her voice was soft and full of affection as she asked, "Do you
+want to go to the cemetery with me this afternoon, pet? Aunt Genevieve has
+the carriage, and I think a walk will do me good."
+
+The walk along the shady street and through the grassy lane to the gate at
+the foot of the hill was as pleasant as a walk could be that summer day.
+Rosalind kept sedately by her grandmother's side, and the face under the
+drooping hat was grave. Behind them walked Martin with some garden tools
+and a watering-pot.
+
+The serious eyes brightened, and the lips curved into a smile at sight of
+Maurice and Katherine playing dominos under the maple. How lovely it must
+be to have a brother or sister to play with and talk to!
+
+The cemetery was not new to Rosalind, for Mrs. Whittredge on her daily
+drive usually stopped there, and its winding paths and green slopes, its
+drooping willows and graceful oaks, and the flowers that bloomed
+everywhere, around the stately shafts of marble and the low headstones,
+seemed to her very pleasant. Here, however, her grandmother's sadness took
+on a deeper tinge as she moved among the mounds that lay in the shadow of
+the massive granite monument with "Whittredge" in letters of bronze at its
+base.
+
+As Martin went to work trimming the ivy under his mistress's direction,
+Rosalind wandered away by herself across the hill-top, pausing now and
+then to read an inscription and do a sum in subtraction, on the result of
+which her interest largely depended. "Lily, born 1878, died 1888," stirred
+her imagination, and she sat down to consider it at length. How old would
+Lily be now if she had lived? She tried to think how her own name would
+look on a stone. It was still and peaceful on that sunny hillside; it
+reminded her of "Sharon's lovely rose." The idea of a grave here was not
+unattractive. She was considering it pensively when her eyes fell on a
+long-stemmed, creamy rose, lying not far from her on the ground. With
+instant pleasure in its beauty she took it up and held it against her
+cheek.
+
+Where had it come from? Some one must have dropped it. She stood up and
+looked around, but there was no one in sight. On the other side of a holly
+bush, however, a number of just such roses lay on a grave. Rosalind walked
+over and stooped to read the name on the low headstone. "Robert Ellis
+Fair," she repeated half aloud as she laid her rose beside the others.
+
+When she lifted her head she met the surprised gaze of a young lady, who
+came across the grass with a watering-pot in her hand. She was decidedly
+pretty to look at, and she smiled pleasantly as she began watering the
+flowers in an iron vase.
+
+Rosalind felt she must explain, so she said, smiling in her turn, "I found
+a rose on the grass, and I thought it must belong here."
+
+"Thank you. I suppose I dropped it. Won't you tell me who you are? I am
+sure you do not live in Friendship."
+
+"No, I am visiting my grandmother. I am Rosalind Whittredge."
+
+A strange expression crossed the face of the young lady at this
+announcement. Could it be that something displeased her? After a moment
+she spoke gravely, "I think some one is looking for you," she said.
+
+Turning, Rosalind saw Martin in the distance, and as there seemed nothing
+else to do or say, she walked away. After she had gone some little
+distance she could not resist looking back, and just as she did so she saw
+the young lady fling something from her across the grass, and--it looked
+like a rose! Could it be her rose? Rosalind felt her cheeks growing hot.
+How very strange! Here was a puzzle, indeed.
+
+Aunt Genevieve had come for them in the carriage, and as they drove home
+Rosalind tried to describe the young lady she had seen, saying nothing
+about the rose, however.
+
+"It must have been Celia Fair, mamma, don't you think so?" asked
+Genevieve.
+
+"Fair was the name on the stone," said Rosalind, adding, "She was pretty."
+
+Miss Whittredge looked at her mother, then as that lady was silent, she
+remarked, in her usual languid tone, "I think you may as well know,
+Rosalind, that we have nothing to do with the Fairs."
+
+Why did it make any difference to Rosalind? Why did everything seem wrong?
+Why did she feel so unhappy in spite of the blue sky and the sweet summer
+air?
+
+When they reached home she sat on the garden bench and looked up at the
+griffins, and the fancy floated through her mind that it might be
+comfortable to be as unfeeling as they.
+
+"O, dear! I am afraid I am getting out of the Forest. What shall I do?
+Perhaps the magician could help me;" she clasped her hands at the
+thought. Why not go to see him? She knew the way.
+
+"I will take my book to show him," she said; and running to the house for
+it, forgetful of everything but her longing for sympathy, a few minutes
+later she flitted down the driveway and out of the gate.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER SEVENTH.
+
+THE MAGICIAN MAKES TEA.
+
+                "--If that love or gold
+    Can in this place buy entertainment,
+    Bring us where we may rest ourselves and feed;
+    Here's a young maid with travel much oppress'd
+    And faints for succour."
+
+
+The magician was at work in his small garden adjusting some wire netting
+for the sweet peas, while Curly Q. looked on with interest, and Crisscross
+finished his saucer of milk.
+
+Rosalind came through the shop so softly that only the cat was aware of
+it. He gazed at her in evident doubt whether to continue work on the rim
+of his saucer or take refuge on the fence.
+
+"I should like to have a little house, and a dog and cat to live with me,"
+she thought, sitting down on the step to wait till she should be
+observed. Yes, this was more like the Forest of Arden than any place she
+knew; her unhappiness seemed melting away in the peaceful atmosphere.
+
+Crisscross decided she was not dangerous, and keeping an eye on her by way
+of precaution went on with his supper. It was not long, however, before
+Curly Q. discovered her presence and came bounding to her side, with a
+sharp bark of welcome, then back to call his master's attention.
+
+"Why! Why!" exclaimed the magician, holding up a pair of rather grimy
+hands.
+
+There could be no doubt about his being glad to see Rosalind. He asked how
+she was, over and over, and apologized for his hands, and smiled and
+nodded and indulged in all sorts of absurd gestures, which made her laugh
+so she couldn't try her new accomplishment of talking on her fingers.
+Directly he hurried into the house, where she could hear him washing his
+hands, and then he came out again with a teakettle, which he filled at the
+cistern, and carrying it back set it on a small oil stove, which he
+lighted.
+
+"We'll have some tea," he said, sitting down beside her and asking again
+how she was.
+
+Rosalind summoned all her learning and spelled out carefully, with the aid
+of some very dainty fingers, "I-am-lon--"
+
+"Lonesome?" repeated the magician. "That is too bad. Mr. Pat wouldn't like
+that."
+
+Rosalind shook her head. The tears were near the surface, but she kept
+them back, and remembering her book she laid it on the magician's knee,
+open at the words Cousin Louis had written: "If we choose we may travel
+always in the Forest where the birds sing and the sunlight sifts through
+the trees; where although we sometimes grow footsore and hungry we know
+that the goal is sure. Just outside is the dreary desert in which, alas!
+many choose to walk, shutting their eyes to the beauty and peace of the
+Forest, and losing by the way the sacred gift of happiness."
+
+The magician read it slowly through, then he smiled at Rosalind over his
+glasses. "That's so," he said. "It is hard to keep out of the desert
+sometimes, but it all comes right in the end. Why, the other day I was--"
+here he shook his head and put on a woe-begone expression of countenance
+that made his meaning plain, and caused Rosalind to laugh--"and I looked
+up and there you stood in the door and pointed to the motto, 'Good in
+everything,' and I felt better."
+
+"Did I really cheer you up?" cried Rosalind, delighted; and nodding quite
+as if he heard, the magician answered, "Now I'll cheer you up." Rising, he
+beckoned her to follow him inside, and she obeyed, feeling as if she were
+somebody in a story.
+
+The kettle was already singing merrily, and from a shelf the magician took
+down a fat little teapot and, rinsing it with boiling water, proceeded to
+make tea. Next he spread a white cloth on a small table, and from the
+cupboard took out some blue and white cups and plates.
+
+"Let me set it," begged Rosalind, in pantomime, entering gayly into the
+spirit of the thing.
+
+Laughing, the magician left it to her and went off to his store-room, from
+which he emerged with a pitcher of milk and a loaf of brown bread.
+
+There was nothing in the appointments of this simple meal to offend the
+most fastidious taste, and it was a sight to bring a smile to the
+dolefulest countenance, to see Rosalind and the magician sitting opposite
+to each other drinking tea. In the midst of it Morgan jumped up and went
+to the store-room, returning with a tumbler of jelly. "Miss Betty Bishop's
+jelly," he said. "Do you know Miss Betty?"
+
+Rosalind shook her head.
+
+"She makes good things," he added, as he unscrewed the top.
+
+Rosalind's afternoon in the open air had given her an appetite, and she
+did full justice to the brown bread and jelly, the novelty of the occasion
+adding a flavor. Through the open door and window came the glow of the
+sunset, and the air was sweet with some far-off fragrance. All trouble had
+faded from her face; it was as if in the heart of the Forest she had come
+upon some friendly inn. Such a small matter as dinner in the house behind
+the griffins quite escaped her memory.
+
+"Well, upon my word!"
+
+[Illustration: "DO YOU KNOW MISS BETTY?"]
+
+Startled in the act of feeding Curly Q., Rosalind looked toward the door,
+and saw there a lady in a crisp, light muslin. More than this she did
+not at once take in, for behind her in the semi-darkness of the shop was
+Martin's face. The conviction that he was looking for her, and that
+grandmamma would be vexed, overshadowed everything else. She rose, while
+the magician greeted the lady as Miss Betty, and offered her a cup of tea.
+
+"I'se been searchin' high and low for you, Miss Rosalind," Martin
+exclaimed, coming forward.
+
+"I'm dreadfully sorry, Martin; I forgot," said Rosalind.
+
+Miss Betty, who had declined the tea, now held out her hand. "This is
+Rosalind Whittredge, of course; I am your Cousin Betty."
+
+"I didn't know I had any cousins," said Rosalind.
+
+"You will find a few if you stay long enough," replied Miss Betty. "How do
+you come to be eating supper with Morgan, I'd like to know? I was sitting
+on my porch when you went in, so when Martin came along I was able to help
+him."
+
+"I like Morgan. I wanted to see him. Father told me about him." Rosalind
+felt she couldn't explain exactly.
+
+"I used to know your father very well indeed," said Miss Betty, as they
+walked together to the street, after Rosalind had told the magician
+good-by. "As you seem to like going out to tea, I hope you will come and
+take supper with me sometime," she added, with a twinkle in her eye.
+
+When she reached home Miss Herbert stood at the gate, and in the door was
+Mrs. Whittredge. Rosalind's face was full of brightness as she ran up the
+path.
+
+"Grandmamma, I meant only to stay a minute, and then I forgot."
+
+"I have been worried about you, Rosalind," Mrs. Whittredge said gravely.
+"Why did you not come to me and tell me where you wished to go? Where have
+you been?"
+
+"To see the magician--Morgan, I mean. I wanted so much to see him I did
+not think of anything else."
+
+"Why did you wish to see him?" continued her grandmother.
+
+The glow was fading from Rosalind's face. "Because--" she hesitated,
+"because--"
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Because I was lonely, grandmamma, and I was afraid I was going to cry. I
+promised father I would be brave, and--well--Morgan knows about the
+Forest, and is very good to cheer you up. He made tea in the dearest
+little teapot, and it was so amusing, I forgot. I am sorry."
+
+"Do you mean you took supper with Morgan? Well, Rosalind, you are
+amazing!" Aunt Genevieve spoke from the hall.
+
+"Never mind, Genevieve," said her mother. "I am sorry you were lonely,
+Rosalind, but I do not understand why you should go to Morgan. And what do
+you mean by the 'forest'?"
+
+Rosalind's face was grave again. "I don't know, grandmamma," she faltered,
+and indeed she could not have told if her life had depended on it.
+
+"I think you were very easy on her, mamma. It was certainly naughty of her
+to run away," Genevieve remarked, after Rosalind, worn out by the
+conflicting experiences of the day, had gone to bed.
+
+Mrs. Whittredge did not reply at once. On her lap lay her granddaughter's
+little volume of "As You Like It," and she had been reading the words
+about the Forest. It had a way of opening to that page.
+
+"She is a peculiar, fanciful child, and quite old enough to know better.
+Professor Sargent may be a brilliant man, but it seems to me he has filled
+the child's head full of nonsense. I can't see what Patterson has been
+thinking of," Genevieve continued.
+
+"I am not inclined to find much fault with her. I did not expect her to be
+perfect. She seems naturally sweet and happy," her mother replied.
+
+"Losing by the way the sacred gift of happiness," Mrs. Whittredge's eyes
+went back to the book. Surely happiness had slipped from her grasp,
+leaving nothing but regret. It was sad to realize that her children found
+all their pleasure apart from her. Somewhere she had failed, but pride
+told her it was fate; that sorrow and disappointment were the common lot,
+that gratitude was not to be looked for.
+
+After her bitter disappointment in her oldest son she had been the more
+determined to have her way with Allan. With what result? The extended
+tour abroad, planned with a purpose just as his college course was ended,
+had weaned him completely from his home. His interests were elsewhere, and
+although as joint executor with her of his father's estate he was often in
+Friendship, his visits were usually brief. Between herself and her
+daughter there was little sympathy. Genevieve, calm and inflexible, had
+early declared her independence. But more than all else put together was
+her haunting sorrow for her husband. Words of Dr. Fair, spoken long ago in
+cruel bluntness, still rang in her ears: "Madam, you are killing your
+husband by your obstinacy." Her mind dwelt with morbid persistency upon
+them. Had the reconciliation with her son come too late?
+
+At a time of utter weariness with herself she acceded to Patterson's
+proposal to send his daughter to her. Genevieve had expostulated,
+insisting she would be impossible, a child with no bringing up. Rosalind
+had come, and even Genevieve had to admit, so far as manners and
+appearance were concerned, she was not impossible.
+
+In the fair young face, with its serious eyes, in whose glance there was
+often a singular radiance, Mrs. Whittredge found something that touched
+her heart. Her granddaughter had not the Whittredge beauty, she was
+nothing of a Whittredge, and yet--One day she had taken up the miniature
+on Rosalind's table, with a glance over her shoulder; and when she put it
+down and turned away, it was with the reluctant feeling that perhaps there
+had been some excuse for her son when he left father and mother and
+kindred and home for this young girl.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER EIGHTH.
+
+TO MEET ROSALIND.
+
+"Put you in your best array."
+
+
+Miss Betty Bishop lived in a small white house with brown trimmings, which
+she herself likened to a white cake with chocolate filling. Everything
+about it was snug and neat and seemed to the observer a pleasant
+expression of that kindly, busy, cheery lady; but Miss Betty was in the
+habit of declaring it had taken her twenty years to get settled in those
+small, low-ceiled rooms, and that she didn't feel quite in yet.
+
+There had been a great sacrifice of fine old furniture when the big house
+on Main Street had to be exchanged for the little one in Church Lane, and
+it was no wonder Miss Betty sighed at the thought. None the less she had
+accepted courageously the reverses which at twenty brought her gay
+girlhood to an end, and for fifteen years was a cheerful, devoted nurse
+to her invalid father. Since his death she lived alone with only Sophy,
+her old mammy, to cook and care for her.
+
+When it became known that Miss Betty had invited certain of her young
+friends to tea to meet Rosalind Whittredge, a wave of excitement swept
+over Friendship.
+
+All the children of the town had heard stories of Miss Betty's beauty and
+belleship, but those Washington winters belonged to twenty years ago and
+had no connection with her present popularity. Sophy's skill as a cook no
+doubt had something to do with the fame of her mistress's tea parties, but
+besides this Miss Betty knew how to make her guests, whether young or old,
+have a good time.
+
+When asked if she was fend of children, she was sure to reply, "Some
+children. I don't like disagreeable children any better than I do
+disagreeable grown persons." And for this reason, perhaps, it had come to
+be esteemed something of an honor to be asked to her house.
+
+Miss Betty had at first felt a prejudice against Patterson Whittredge's
+daughter, deciding in her own mind that she was probably a spoiled little
+thing; but the sight of Rosalind taking tea with Morgan, and more than
+this, the frank gaze of those disarming gray eyes, had touched her kindly
+heart. She knew as well as anybody that it must be lonely in the
+Whittredge house; and so she had thought of the tea party.
+
+The interest felt in Patterson Whittredge's daughter was very general.
+Patterson belonged to those old times when peace had reigned in
+Friendship. He had been a favorite in the village, and to many it seemed
+only the other day that he had gone away. It was incredible that this tall
+girl seen walking by Mrs. Whittredge's side could be his daughter. There
+were those like Mrs. Graham's pupils, who were inclined to invest her with
+a halo of romance; others criticised her as not at all the Whittredge
+style, not what one had a right to expect in Mrs. Whittredge's
+granddaughter. Some pitied Mrs. Whittredge for the responsibility thrust
+upon her, others pitied Rosalind, and still more, envied her.
+
+In view of all the discussion, it was not possible to regard an invitation
+to meet her as quite an everyday matter.
+
+"I do wish you had not soiled your embroidered muslin, Belle. You will
+have to wear your summer silk," said Mrs. Parton, addressing her daughter,
+who sat on the dining-room floor entertaining a Maltese kitten with a
+string and spool.
+
+"I forgot to tell you, mother, Jack dropped some wax candle on it last
+Sunday night, when we were looking for a penny in the grass," Belle
+replied, lifting her merry black eyes for a moment. "Anyway, it isn't a
+dress-up party--only to supper."
+
+"Bring that dress to me at once. I am astonished at you. The only decent
+thing you have!" Mrs. Parton sat down and clasped her hands in an attitude
+of desperation.
+
+Followed by the kitten, Belle departed, returning directly with the blue
+and white checked silk over her arm.
+
+"Whatever it is," her mother continued, I want you to look nice; Betty
+says Rosalind Whittredge has beautiful clothes."
+
+"I just know she is a prig," remarked Belle, caressing the kitten.
+
+"No, she isn't!" A tumbled head and a pair of eyes very like Belle's own
+peered out suddenly from beneath the table cover. "If she was, she
+wouldn't have run away to take supper with Morgan."
+
+"Mercy upon us, Jack! you are enough to startle the sphinx. Come out from
+under that table at once," commanded his mother.
+
+"Did she do that?" asked Belle, with some interest, adding, "Is it very
+bad, mother? Can you clean it? How do you know she did, Jack?"
+
+Mrs. Parton shook her head; "I'll try French chalk," she said.
+
+"Miss Betty said so. She saw her," put in Jack.
+
+Mrs. Parton rose. "Another time when you lose a penny, I will make it good
+rather than have your best dress spoiled," she remarked.
+
+"But you see, mother, it was a church penny," Belle explained, as if she
+were mentioning some rare and peculiar coin. "Arthur brought the
+collection home because Uncle Ranney wasn't there, and when he untied his
+handkerchief on the porch a penny dropped out and rolled into the grass."
+
+"Who is going to Miss Betty's?" Jack asked, as his mother left the room.
+
+"Maurice and Katherine and you and me, and the Ellises, and--I don't know
+who."
+
+"I know it will be stupid; I don't think I'll go."
+
+"If it is stupid, you will make it so," retorted his sister, adding, "and
+you will go, too, for mother will make you; besides, you know you wouldn't
+miss Sophy's waffles." Belle departed with the kitten, leaving Jack to
+return to the latest Henty book and his retreat under the table.
+
+The Partons' was a square house, with a wide hall dividing it through the
+middle and opening on a porch at either end. When the weather at all
+permitted, these doors stood wide open, and dogs and cats and children ran
+in and out as they pleased. In the afternoons Colonel Parton sat on the
+front porch smoking and reading, threatening the dogs and the children
+indiscriminately, receiving not the slightest attention from either.
+
+As she passed him now, Belle mischievously deposited the kitten on his
+shoulder.
+
+"You baggage, you! Take this thing off me," thundered the colonel, as the
+kitten made its claws felt in a frantic endeavor to hold on in its
+perilous position.
+
+"O father! don't hurt her," Belle cried, running to the rescue, and in the
+scuffle that followed, the unfortunate kitten escaped.
+
+"Don't you let me catch you doing a thing like that again," scolded the
+colonel, as he picked up his paper and settled himself in his chair again.
+
+Belle laughed, and held up her face for a kiss, which her father gave with
+a hearty good will.
+
+Mrs. Parton was not the only one who felt dress to be a matter of
+importance on this occasion. Charlotte Ellis stopped at the bank gate to
+ask Katherine what she was going to wear.
+
+"My blue lawn, I think," Katherine answered. "Mother says it is nice
+enough, and that I must keep my new white dress for Commencement."
+
+"Your blue dress is very pretty, I am sure," Charlotte said. She was two
+years older than Katherine, and her manner was mildly patronizing. "I
+think I shall wear white. Of course it is not a party, but we want to
+make a good impression on a stranger."
+
+Katherine felt the force of this, but Maurice, who overheard Charlotte,
+was inclined to jeer. "Much difference it will make to her what you have
+on," he said, as Charlotte left them. "Her," meant Rosalind.
+
+"How do you know it won't make any difference?" asked Katherine.
+
+"Because she is not that kind."
+
+"What kind? How do you know?"
+
+Now Maurice had kept his interview with Rosalind to himself, saying
+nothing to any one when he returned her book. His sudden interest in
+Shakespeare had not passed unnoticed; but as this or something else had
+caused longer intervals of cheerfulness, the family had not ventured to
+disturb the agreeable change by asking questions.
+
+"I know, because I talked to her the other day," he replied.
+
+"Maurice, really?" cried Katherine. "I don't believe it"
+
+"You needn't if you don't want to," was her brother's lofty answer.
+
+On the appointed evening the guest of honor was the last to arrive, and
+the others were in such a state of expectancy they could not settle down
+to an examination of Miss Betty's puzzle drawer with which she usually
+entertained her young guests until supper was announced. Miss Betty, who
+adored puzzles and problems of all kinds, was continually adding to her
+collection, and this evening there was a brand new one, brought from the
+city only the day before; but even Belle, who was especially good at
+puzzles, and besides affected not to care about Rosalind Whittredge, could
+not keep her eyes from the window.
+
+The application of French chalk had been successful, and she wore her blue
+and white silk; Katherine, in her blue muslin, with ribbons to match on
+her smooth braids, wished her mother had been more impressed with the
+importance of the occasion. Charlotte was complacent in her white dress
+with a large ribbon bow on top of her head, in a new fashion just received
+from her cousin in Baltimore.
+
+"That's the way Rosalind wears hers," whispered Katherine.
+
+The boys fingered the puzzles and talked about the ball game to be played
+to-morrow, but they shared the feeling of anticipation. Their hostess
+bustled back and forth.
+
+"Children," she said, pausing in the door, "I want you to be as nice as
+possible to Rosalind. Remember she is a stranger, and we wish her to have
+a pleasant impression of Friendship."
+
+"Here she is!" announced Belle, and the rest crowded around the window.
+
+"There's Miss Genevieve," whispered Charlotte; "girls, she is coming in!"
+
+The Whittredge carriage had stopped before the gate and Miss Genevieve, a
+marvel of grace in soft chiffons that rippled and curled about her slender
+height and emphasized the fairness of her skin, was actually escorting her
+niece to the door.
+
+"Isn't she lovely?" sighed Charlotte, in an ecstasy.
+
+"Not so sweet as Miss Celia," said loyal Belle.
+
+Miss Betty met them on the porch, while her guests in the parlor craned
+their necks to catch a glimpse, through the open door, of the new
+arrivals. The languid sweetness of Miss Genevieve's tone floated in above
+Miss Betty's crisper utterance.
+
+"Mamma is just as usual, thank you. Yes, it was very kind of you to ask
+her; I have no doubt she finds it dull. Yes, we expect Allan in a week or
+two, but there is no counting on him."
+
+So absorbed were the listeners, they did not begin their retreat soon
+enough, and their hostess, ushering Rosalind in, encountered a scene of
+confusion. Katherine in the excitement fell backward over a footstool and
+was rescued, flushed and shamefaced, by Jack Parton. Charlotte smoothed
+her dress and tried to look dignified. Belle and Maurice were in fits of
+laughter.
+
+Miss Betty surveyed them in surprise. Rosalind stood beside her, and the
+girls at once noted that she wore pink.
+
+"Is anything the matter?" asked Miss Betty, observing Katherine's flushed
+face. "I want to introduce Rosalind Whittredge to you. Rosalind, this is
+Charlotte Ellis, and Katherine Roberts, and Belle Parton--"
+
+Still laughing, Belle held out her hand. "We were peeping at you," she
+said.
+
+"Didn't you know I was coming in?" Rosalind asked, a gleam of fun in her
+own eyes.
+
+"We wanted to see Miss Genevieve," added Belle.
+
+As Miss Betty proceeded to name the boys, Rosalind said, "Oh, I know
+Maurice," quite as if he were an old friend; and she added, standing
+beside him, "I am so much obliged to you for bringing my book home."
+
+"Does Maurice know her?" whispered Belle.
+
+Katherine nodded, although she had had her doubts until this minute.
+
+Maurice was agreeably conscious of Belle's eyes as he talked to Rosalind.
+He was not at all unwilling to have the distinction of being the only one
+to know the new-comer.
+
+"I read the story," he said. "I did not know till after you had gone that
+it was one of Shakespeare's plays. We read Julius Caesar at school last
+winter."
+
+"I know that too," Rosalind answered. I have Lamb's stories. Cousin Louis
+used to read them to me, and then from the real plays, but I like the
+story of the Forest best."
+
+"Dear me! they are talking about Shakespeare," Belle exclaimed.
+
+Rosalind looked across the room at her, and smiled in a way that seemed an
+invitation.
+
+"It is a little funny for her to sit down beside a boy the first thing,
+don't you think?" Charlotte said in a low tone to Katherine, who assented
+because she was in the habit of agreeing with Charlotte.
+
+Belle overheard. "Silly!" she said, and to show her scorn she went over
+and sat on an arm of the sofa beside Rosalind.
+
+"Do you like to read?" she asked.
+
+Rosalind opened her eyes. "Of course I do, don't you?"
+
+Belle, who had browsed in her father's library since she had learned her
+letters, was known as a great reader, and felt rather proud of her
+reputation; but she found the stranger had read as much as she, and seemed
+to think nothing of it.
+
+In the warmth of a discussion of favorite stories any stiffness is sure to
+melt rapidly away. Jack, hearing mention of "The Talisman," joined in and
+the others drew up their chairs, so that when Miss Betty rustled back from
+an excursion to the dining room she found the ice broken and sociability
+prevailing. But she startled them all by an exclamation.
+
+"Jack Parton, for pity's sake, sit up! and you too, Katherine; I cannot
+allow my guests to sit on their spines."
+
+"But it is so much more comfortable," protested lazy Jack, slowly screwing
+himself into a more erect position, while Katherine straightened up with a
+blush.
+
+"There seems to be something wrong with the spines of this generation, and
+the first thing you know it will react on their mental and moral natures.
+People without backbone are odious," Miss Betty continued.
+
+"I wish you children could have seen Miss Patricia Gilpin as I saw her
+once when I was a little child, more than thirty years ago. She was
+straight as an arrow and pretty as a picture. Such old ladies have gone
+out of fashion. I remember hearing her describe the backboard and spiked
+collar she wore for several hours each day when she was a child."
+
+"What was the spiked collar for?" Rosalind asked.
+
+"To keep her head in the correct position."
+
+"I am glad I didn't live then," said Belle.
+
+At this point Miss Betty's sermon was interrupted by the appearance of a
+small, brown boy in a white apron, who announced supper.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER NINTH.
+
+THE LOST RING.
+
+"Wear this for me."
+
+
+The old mahogany table had never reflected a circle of brighter faces than
+gathered about it that evening to do justice to Sophy's good things served
+on Miss Hetty's pretty china.
+
+Rosalind at the left hand of her hostess looked around the company with
+frank enjoyment of the novelty of the occasion. These young people were
+very entertaining, particularly Belle; and more amusing than anything was
+the small waiter, at whom Miss Betty glanced so sternly when he showed a
+disposition to laugh at the jokes.
+
+It was when Miss Betty began to serve the strawberries that some one
+remarked on the old cream-pitcher of colonial glass, and thus started her
+on her favorite topic of the cream-jug and sugar-dish that exactly
+matched her teapot and should have been hers.
+
+This was the first time Rosalind had heard mention of old Mr. Gilpin and
+the will.
+
+"My grandmother and Cousin Thomas's mother were sisters," Miss Betty
+explained, "and when their father and mother died the family silver was
+divided between them. In this way the teapot came down to me, and some of
+the other pieces to Cousin Anne, who was, you know, Cousin Thomas's
+sister."
+
+"Was old Mr. Gilpin related to me, Cousin Betty?" asked Rosalind.
+
+"Why, certainly, my dear; it is time you were learning about your
+relations. He was your grandfathers own cousin. Your great-grandmother was
+Mary Gilpin before she married Mr. Whittredge."
+
+"Rosalind looks puzzled," said Belle, laughing.
+
+Rosalind laughed too. "I never knew about relations before. Does father
+know all this?"
+
+"I should hope so; this is not much to know."
+
+"Miss Betty, you promised to tell us about the ring, sometime; Rosalind
+would like to hear it, I am sure. Wouldn't you, Rosalind?" asked Belle.
+
+Rosalind wished very much to hear it, and Miss Betty, with a glance around
+the table, remarked, "I shall be glad to tell what I know if you care to
+have me, and Jack will sit up."
+
+"Send for a pillow, Miss Betty; that is what mother does," Belle
+suggested, to the delight of the small waiter, who was compelled to retire
+suddenly to the hall, where he was heard giggling.
+
+"As some of you know," Miss Betty began, "the ring belonged to Miss
+Patricia Gilpin, who was an aunt of Cousin Thomas's, and your
+great-great-aunt, Rosalind. If it is still in existence, it is not far
+from eighty years old. You might suppose from the way in which they are
+spoken of now, that in the early part of the century all young women were
+beauties and belles; but if there is any truth in her miniature, Patricia
+Gilpin was a really beautiful woman."
+
+"Wasn't she married? I thought it was an engagement ring," said Charlotte.
+
+"It was, but she never married. The young naval officer to whom she was
+engaged was killed in the War of 1812. They had known each other only a
+short time; it was love at first sight, I suppose. He had the ring made
+for her, and I always heard that she received it and the news of his death
+at nearly the same time. The last message she had from him was, 'Wear this
+for me,' which he had written on a card and enclosed with the ring; and
+she always wore it. She was a girl of eighteen at the time, and greatly
+admired; but she never forgot her lover."
+
+"Did she live in Friendship?" Rosalind asked.
+
+"During her father's lifetime this was her home. She was born in the old
+Gilpin house, which was new then; and perhaps you know that the rustic
+summer-house at the top of the hill on the left is called Patricia's
+arbor. For some years after her lover's death she lived in seclusion,
+seeing no one; and always when the weather permitted she would sit in the
+arbor, looking out upon the river.
+
+"It was said that this was the scene of their courtship, but it may be
+only a story.
+
+"After her father's death she lived in Washington, but she often visited
+Cousin Anne in the old place. As I have said, I remember seeing her and
+hearing her talk, when I was a child of six or seven. She was a stately
+and beautiful old lady, and as I recall it now, her face showed she had
+borne her share of trouble and disappointment bravely; and you can't say
+more than that for anybody."
+
+"That is what Cousin Louis says," remarked Rosalind, smiling at Maurice.
+
+"But you haven't told us what the ring was like," put in Charlotte.
+
+"I never could tell a straight story," replied Miss Betty, laughing.
+"Well, it was a broad band of open lace-work of a most delicate and
+beautiful pattern, and made of pure gold. The stone was an oval sapphire
+of great depth and purity of color, in a setting of tiny stars, made of
+little points of gold. When Miss Patricia died she left the ring to Cousin
+Anne, her niece, along with many other valuable things. Cousin Anne never
+wore it, but she used to show it to me sometimes as a great treat, and I
+have tried it on more than once. Cousin Anne ought to have made a will;
+but at best she was an undecided person, and she had a long illness. It
+was generally supposed she would leave it to your aunt Genevieve,
+Rosalind, or else to Patricia Marshall. Indeed, there were half a dozen of
+them who would have given their heads for it. Cousin Anne knew it, and she
+hated to disappoint anybody, so she ended by disappointing everybody."
+
+"Why didn't she leave it to you. Miss Betty?" asked Jack.
+
+"Miss Patricia was not related to me. She was aunt to Cousin Thomas and
+Cousin Anne on their father's side, and I am connected through the
+Barnwells, his mother's family, just as Rosalind's grandmother is," she
+explained; adding, "As Cousin Anne left no will, everything she owned went
+to her brother; and you have all heard about his will. Most of his money
+was to go to the endowment of a hospital, all the other property to be
+sold and the proceeds divided among his first cousins or their children,
+except the ring and an old spinet that came to him through his wife. The
+first he left to Allan Whittredge, the other to Celia Fair."
+
+"To Uncle Allan?" asked Rosalind, greatly interested.
+
+"Yes, and everybody wonders why. However, when they came to take an
+inventory, the ring was not to be found."
+
+"And they haven't the least idea what became of it," remarked Maurice.
+
+"I think it was stolen," said Miss Betty, "although I acknowledge there is
+something mysterious about it. Cousin Thomas was subject to attacks of
+heart failure, and was found one evening unconscious in his arm-chair
+before the open door of the safe, where he kept his valuables. Morgan had
+left him an hour before, apparently as well as usual. He was discovered in
+this condition by old Milly, who is honest as the day, and she sent at
+once for Dr. Fair, next door, but it was some time before he could be
+found, and in the excitement it seems quite possible the ring might have
+been stolen. After Dr. Fair had partially revived the old man, he noticed
+the open safe and closed it. Cousin Thomas never regained consciousness
+entirely, and died the next day. It must have been a week before the ring
+was missed. The strange thing is that there were jewels of greater value
+in the safe, which were not disturbed."
+
+"Don't you wish your uncle would give it to you if it is found?" Charlotte
+asked Rosalind.
+
+"In his will Mr. Gilpin said he left the ring to Allan, who was aware of
+his wishes in regard to it. I have no idea what those wishes were, but I
+hardly think he had Rosalind in mind," Miss Betty said, smiling.
+
+"Uncle Allan must know what he meant. How strange!"
+
+"Like a story, isn't it?" said Belle.
+
+"Have they looked everywhere for it?" continued Rosalind.
+
+"Yes; the most, thorough search has been made, to no effect."
+
+The rest of the evening was spent in games, and from the laughing that
+went on, Miss Betty's guests must have enjoyed themselves. When Martin
+came for her and Rosalind said good night to her new friends, she did not
+feel like the same girl who had had to go to the magician to be cheered a
+few days ago. The face she lifted to the stars as she walked home was very
+bright indeed.
+
+Grandmamma and Aunt Genevieve sat in the hall.
+
+"Have you had a pleasant time?" Mrs. Whittredge asked.
+
+"A beautiful time, grandmamma. I do like to know people. And Miss Betty--I
+mean Cousin Betty--told us about the lost ring and--was she my
+aunt?--Patricia? Did you ever see her, grandmamma?"
+
+"Yes, a number of times. She visited at our house when I was a child. She
+died a few years after my marriage. Your Aunt Genevieve is thought to
+resemble the miniature done of her in her girlhood."
+
+Rosalind looked in the direction of the arm-chair where her aunt half
+reclined, her eyes on a book, her clear profile in relief against the dark
+leather, the mellow lamp-light bringing out the copper tints in her hair.
+"Then I know she must have been lovely," she said.
+
+Mrs. Whittredge laughed, and Genevieve lifted her eyes to ask, "What is
+that?"
+
+"Rosalind is sure Patricia Gilpin must have been handsome if you resemble
+her," her mother replied.
+
+Genevieve shrugged her shoulders, and her lips curled a little, although
+she smiled; "Thank you, Rosalind," she said.
+
+"I don't believe," thought Rosalind, as she slowly prepared for bed, "that
+Miss Patricia--Aunt Patricia--looked as if she didn't care about anything.
+She bore hard things bravely, Miss Betty said, and I believe people who do
+that have a kind look." Here her glance fell upon the miniature on her
+dressing-table. The sweet eyes smiled on her. Taking it up she pressed it
+to her lips; "Like you, my dear beautiful," she whispered.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TENTH.
+
+CELIA.
+
+"One out of suits with fortune."
+
+
+"O Celia!" called Miss Betty Bishop, from her front door, "come in a
+minute. I had a tea party last night, and I want to send your mother some
+of Sophy's marshmallow cake. I am so glad you happened by," she added, as
+Celia came up the walk, "I was wondering how I should get it to her."
+
+"It is very kind of you, Miss Betty," said Celia, following her into the
+dining room.
+
+"There is no kindness about it," asserted Miss Betty, opening the cake
+box. "I am just proud of Sophy's good things and like to make other people
+envy me."
+
+"That is not hard," Celia answered, thinking that life seemed easy and
+pleasant in this snug little house. Miss Betty had had her hard times, she
+knew, but the troubles of others are apt to seem easier to bear than
+one's own, just as in bad weather the best walking is always on the other
+side of the street.
+
+Celia was warm and tired, and the dim, cool room was grateful to her as
+she sat resting in silence while Miss Betty fluttered back and forth.
+
+"Perhaps you'll think I'd better mind my own business," she said,
+returning after a moment's absence, "but here is something I saw in the
+_Gazette_. It might be worth trying."
+
+Celia knew by heart the advertisement held out to her. "Work at home.
+Fifteen dollars a week made with ease, etc." She accepted it meekly,
+however, not wishing to hurt her friend's feelings.
+
+"Talking about minding your own business," continued Miss Betty, "in my
+experience it does not pay. I once saw Cousin Anne Gilpin looking at
+taffeta at Moseley's, and I knew as well as I knew my name that the piece
+she selected wouldn't wear. At first I thought I'd tell her; then I
+decided it was none of my business,--Cousin Anne was old enough to know
+about the quality of silk. And what do you think? She sent me a waist
+pattern off it for a Christmas gift!"
+
+Celia laughed as she rose to go. "Thank you for the cake, even if it isn't
+a kindness. Mother will enjoy it," she said.
+
+"You haven't noticed my hall paper," Miss Betty remarked, escorting her
+visitor to the door. "I don't expect you to say it is pretty, for it
+isn't. I have to confess wall paper is too much for me. This entry is so
+small I could not put anything big and bright on it, so I thought I was
+getting the very thing when I selected this,--and what does it look like?
+Nothing in the world but a clean calico dress. Now it is done I see it
+would have been better with plain paper."
+
+"It is clean and unobtrusive," Celia agreed, smiling. Her smiles were a
+little forced this morning, it was easy to see; and Miss Betty, laying a
+kind hand on her arm, said, "Don't worry too much, Celia. I know something
+about hard times, and you will work through after a while."
+
+Celia felt the tears rising, and she left Miss Betty with an abruptness
+that made her ashamed of herself as she recalled it. After the exertion
+of climbing the hill she stopped to rest on the rustic seat just inside
+her own gate. "I wonder," she asked herself, "if there is anything much
+harder to bear than seeing a house you love going to ruin and not to be
+able to save it."
+
+A branch of the honeysuckle that twined about the gate-post touched her
+shoulder, as if to remind her there was still some sweetness in life after
+all; but she did not heed it, nor the rose vines and clematis which made
+the old gray house beautiful in spite of needed repairs. Celia saw only
+rotting woodwork and sagging steps. She thought how the flower garden had
+been her father's pride, and how in his spare moments, few as they were,
+he was sure to be found digging and trimming and training, with the
+happiness of the born gardener. Ah, those days! She remembered the
+half-incredulous wonder with which she had been used to hear people speak
+of the certainty of trouble. She had felt so certain that joy overbalanced
+sorrow, that smiles were more frequent than tears. Now she understood,
+since she had tried to hide her own grief under a smiling face.
+
+From her babyhood she had been her father's companion and confidante,
+driving about the country with him, interested in all that concerned his
+large practice. A warm-hearted, impulsive man, open handed to the point of
+extravagance, Dr. Fair had had few enemies and many friends; and loving
+his work, life had been full of joy to him. In contrast with those happy
+years the bitterness of his last days seemed doubly cruel to Celia.
+Whenever she was tired and discouraged, the memory of that dark time rose
+before her.
+
+She had been only a child when Patterson Whittredge left home, but she
+could remember how warmly her father had taken his side, and how this had
+caused the first coolness between him and his boyhood friend, Judge
+Whittredge. The judge was influenced by his wife, and between the stubborn
+doctor and imperious Mrs. Whittredge there had been no love lost.
+
+The storm had passed after a while, and when the judge's health began to
+fail Dr. Fair had been called in. But Mrs. Whittredge had not forgotten,
+and the doctor's position was not an easy one. Only his devotion to his
+old friend had kept him from giving up the case at the beginning. The
+Gilpin will and her father's testimony to the old man's sanity had added
+to the trouble, and upon this had come the accusation which, whispered
+about, had broken the doctor's heart. Harassed by the hard times and the
+failure of investments, denied a place at the bedside of his friend, he
+had fallen an easy victim to pneumonia, outliving Judge Whittredge only a
+few days. The memory of it lay like lead upon Celia's heart.
+
+"I have left you nothing but a heritage of misfortune, Celia," had been
+his last words to her.
+
+"Don't think of that, father; I'll manage," she answered; and she had
+tried, but the solving of the problem was costing her the bloom of her
+youth. There were the two brothers to be educated, and a delicate, almost
+invalid mother to be cared for, and an income that would little more than
+pay the taxes on their home. To sell or rent it was not at present
+practicable, and she could not take boarders, for no one boarded in
+Friendship. Neither could she leave to try her fortune in the city, so she
+had been doing whatever her hand found to do. Sewing, embroidering, a
+little teaching, and, in season, pickling and preserving. Friends had been
+kind, but Celia was proud and determined to fight her own battle, and
+sometimes, as this morning, kindness made her burden seem harder to bear.
+
+The worst of it was the root of bitterness in her heart. She could never
+forgive Mrs. Whittredge. Few guessed the intensity hidden beneath Celia's
+gentle manner. Only now and then a spark from her dark blue eyes revealed
+it. The general construction put upon her proud reserve was that she was
+unsociable.
+
+There is no loneliness like that of the unforgiving heart. Celia had never
+felt it so strongly as after her meeting with Rosalind Whittredge in the
+cemetery. There had been something in the soft gaze of the gray eyes that
+she could not forget. It had made her take up the rose again after she
+flung it away and carry it home with her.
+
+But she must not linger here any longer. There was an order from the
+Exchange in the city which should be promptly filled if she hoped for
+others. As she rose she confronted Morgan entering the gate.
+
+"Good morning," he said, and there was an odd sort of embarrassment in his
+manner as he added, "Some of your window frames need fixing, Miss Celia."
+
+She smiled and shook her head. "Can't afford it."
+
+"Miss Celia, let me do it, I've lots of time, and the doctor was very good
+to me," he said.
+
+Again Celia shook her head, but the hurt look on Morgan's face made her
+relent. "Well, perhaps the worst ones," she spelled. She would trust to
+being able to make it up to him sometime.
+
+"That's right," he exclaimed, joyfully, adding, as he turned to go, "Don't
+you worry, Miss Celia. There's good in it somewhere."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER ELEVENTH.
+
+MAKING FRIENDS.
+
+"Is not that neighborly?"
+
+
+
+Miss Betty's tea party was the beginning of a new and happier state of
+affairs for Rosalind; one pleasant thing followed another. There were
+letters from the travellers, long and delightful and full of the genial
+spirit of the Forest, making her more than ever certain that they and she
+were alike journeying beneath its shelter, and at some turn of the road
+would surely meet again.
+
+Mrs. Whittredge also had a letter, "I trust you will not keep Rosalind
+secluded," her son wrote. "I want her to have companions of her own age,
+and to learn to know and love the old town as I loved it. She has lived
+too much with Louis and me and story books; it is time she was waking up."
+
+This explains why the Roberts children and the Partons received special
+invitations to call on Rosalind. Friendship began to seem to her a very
+different place as her acquaintance with it grew and neighborly relations
+were established with Maurice and Katherine. The gap in the hedge became a
+daily meeting-place, and grew slowly, but steadily, wider.
+
+A few days after the tea party, Katherine asked Rosalind to go out to the
+creek with her, and on the way they stopped for Belle. While she went to
+find her hat, Rosalind made the acquaintance of the colonel and several
+dogs. Then the three strolled along the wide street, under the shade of
+tall maples, past pleasant gardens and inviting houses, until the street
+turned into a country road, and before them was Red Hill and the little
+bridge over Friendly Creek at its foot.
+
+Under the bridge the water rippled and splashed over the stones, and out
+of sight, back somewhere among the trees, it could be heard rushing over a
+dam. The children seated themselves on a bit of pebbly beach.
+
+"How nice to be near the real country!" Rosalind exclaimed. "At home we
+are near the park, but that is not the real country. We have to go miles
+to get there."
+
+"But there are such lovely stores and things in the city," said Katherine.
+
+"Still, you can't go about by yourself, as you can here," Rosalind
+answered; and Belle added, "I like to go to the city for a little while,
+but I'd rather live in Friendship, where the houses aren't so close
+together."
+
+As they sat there, throwing stones in the water and writing in the sand,
+Rosalind heard a great deal about school, which would close next
+week,--how the girls had rushed to the window to see her and had lost
+their recess, and how Belle had been sent to the office, besides, for
+making chalk dishes. It was all very amusing, but she could not understand
+why the girls wanted to see her.
+
+"Well, you know they are all interested in your house, and in Miss
+Genevieve; and then everybody was surprised at your coming to visit your
+grandmother."
+
+"I can't see why," Rosalind said, opening her eyes.
+
+"Oh, well--because you never had before, you know." Belle's manner was
+hesitating, as if she felt conscious of being on dangerous ground.
+
+What she said was certainly true. Rosalind herself did not exactly
+understand it. She knew only that there had been some reason why her
+father had not visited his old home for many years. She wondered if these
+girls knew more about it than she.
+
+"You see, you are something new," Belle added, laughing. "Didn't Miss
+Celia scold us that morning, Katherine?"
+
+"Why, no, Belle, she didn't exactly scold," said Katherine.
+
+"She didn't throw back her head and frown and say 'Young ladies, I am
+amazed!'"--here Bell gave an excellent imitation of Mrs. Graham's
+manner--"so you don't call it scolding. She just said, 'Girls, I don't
+know what to think!' and we felt as mean! I love Miss Celia."
+
+"So do I," echoed Katherine.
+
+"Is she one of your teachers?" Rosalind asked.
+
+"Yes; she is Miss Celia Fair. She teaches drawing and sometimes keeps
+study hour, and she is as sweet as she can be," Belle concluded, with
+enthusiasm.
+
+The name brought to mind one of Rosalind's greatest puzzles,--the
+hillside, the young lady who looked as if she might be as Belle described
+her--sweet; the strange incident of the rose, and Aunt Genevieve's words,
+"We have nothing to do with the Fairs."
+
+"I saw her once," she remarked gravely.
+
+"I forgot the Fairs and the Whittredges don't speak. Perhaps you know
+about it," said Belle.
+
+Rosalind shook her head.
+
+"I think it was about the will; wasn't it, Katherine? Mrs. Whittredge
+wanted to break it because she thought Mr. Gilpin was crazy, but Dr. Fair
+said he wasn't, and testified in court."
+
+Rosalind listened with interest. "Isn't Dr. Fair dead?" she asked.
+
+"Yes. He used to be our doctor, and I liked him so much."
+
+"The Fairs have lost all their money now, so Miss Celia has to teach and
+do all sorts of things," Katherine remarked.
+
+"Her name belongs to the Forest," thought Rosalind, looking at the
+ripples, Belle had thrown herself back and was gazing at the sky from
+under her hat brim; Katherine was busy with a collection of pebbles; the
+stillness was broken only by the hum of insects and the murmur of Friendly
+Creek. Suddenly Rosalind seemed to hear with perfect distinctness what it
+said,
+
+"Be fr-ie-nds, be fr-ie-nds," with a little trill on the words.
+
+From experience she knew very little of unfriendliness. All this about
+quarrels and having nothing to do with people was new to her. As she
+considered it she remembered that Oliver hated Orlando, and Rosalind's
+uncle had treated her and her father unkindly, in the story. "But it all
+came right in the end," she told herself, "when they met in the Forest."
+It was a cheering thought, and she smiled over it.
+
+"What are you smiling at?" Belle asked, sitting up.
+
+Rosalind's eyes had a far-away look as she replied, "I was thinking about
+the Forest."
+
+"What forest?" Belle began to ask, when a curly dog rushed down upon them,
+and on the bridge above their heads they saw the magician waving his
+hand.
+
+"Well, Curly Q. How are you?" cried Rosalind.
+
+"There's Morgan," said Belle; "you know him, don't you?"
+
+"Of course I do. I took tea with him last week," Rosalind answered,
+laughing.
+
+"And, Belle, she calls him the 'magician,'" Katherine said.
+
+"Do you? Why?"
+
+"Because he is one. Didn't you know it?" Rosalind danced up the slope,
+with Curly Q. after her.
+
+"Rosalind says you are a magician. Are you?" Belle spelled rapidly when
+they had joined Morgan on the bridge.
+
+The old man's eyes twinkled as he replied, "That's a secret; you mustn't
+tell anybody."
+
+"Ask him if he knows about the Forest," said Rosalind.
+
+Belle asked the question.
+
+Morgan laughed. "'Where the birds sing--'" he quoted.
+
+"Tell me about it, please," begged Belle. "Does Katherine know?"
+
+Rosalind promised she would sometime; and as Katherine did not know
+either, and as it was growing late, Belle agreed to wait.
+
+It was rather an odd and pleasant sight, if any one had stopped to think
+of it--the old man with his bright, wistful eyes, his tool box on his
+shoulder, and his three companions, walking home together. Demure
+Katherine, dainty Rosalind, saucy Belle,--all as merry as merry could
+be,--and Curly Q. running in and out among them in an ecstasy of delight,
+and at imminent danger of upsetting somebody.
+
+"Well, Pigeon, how do you like your new friend?" asked the colonel, as his
+daughter took her seat beside him on the door-step.
+
+Belle gazed thoughtfully across the lawn. "I like her," she answered, "but
+she is funny. I suppose it is because she hasn't gone much to school. She
+isn't like Charlotte, or Katherine, or me. She isn't prim, and yet--it is
+queer, father, but she makes me feel as I do when I am with Miss
+Celia--like behaving."
+
+The colonel laughed his hearty ha, ha! "I hope you'll cultivate her
+society," he said, adding, "she is like Pat, as high-toned a fellow as
+ever lived. He was something of a dreamer, too, and this child has the
+eyes of a poet."
+
+"They are gray," remarked Belle. "But I know what you mean, father; she
+looks as if she saw things far away. She was looking so this afternoon,
+and when I asked her what she was thinking about she said 'the forest.' I
+don't know what she meant, but Morgan knew."
+
+"You have plenty of sense," said her father, looking fondly upon her.
+
+"Of course I have, I am your child," laughed Belle, jumping up to give him
+a hug.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWELFTH.
+
+THE GILPIN PLACE.
+
+"This is the Forest of Arden."
+
+
+
+Rosalind, walking in the garden next morning, heard her name called from
+the other side of the hedge.
+
+"Is that you, Maurice?" she asked, bending to peep through the narrow
+opening where they had first become acquainted.
+
+"Yes; don't you want to go up to the Gilpin place?"
+
+"I'd rather go there than anywhere," Rosalind assented eagerly, "I am so
+interested in Aunt Patricia and the ring."
+
+"The house is closed, you know, but the grounds are pretty. I'll meet you
+at the gate whenever you are ready," Maurice answered.
+
+He considered Rosalind his special friend by right of first acquaintance,
+and had no thought of allowing Katherine or Belle to get the advantage of
+him, and for this reason he had planned the expedition. He also wished to
+talk over "As You Like It" without interruption, and was decidedly
+provoked when she called to Katherine, who was shelling peas on the side
+porch, "We are going to the Gilpin place; can't you come when you have
+finished?"
+
+Katherine, who had tried in vain to find out from Maurice where he was
+going, was more than delighted at the invitation.
+
+"It would have been nicer if we had stayed to help her," Rosalind
+remarked, as they walked up the street.
+
+"Girls' work," Maurice growled.
+
+"Well, I am a girl. And why shouldn't boys shell peas? They eat them."
+
+Maurice scorned such logic, but her eyes were so merry it was with an
+effort he kept himself from smiling.
+
+"Katherine is such a bother," he said.
+
+"I like Katherine; she is so pleasant," Rosalind observed, with a side
+glance at her companion.
+
+"Perhaps you'd rather go with her and have me stay at home?" he suggested,
+with much dignity.
+
+"And shell peas?" Rosalind laughed.
+
+What a provoking girl this was! And yet he liked her, and somehow at the
+vision of himself shelling peas he couldn't help laughing, too, and thus
+harmony was restored.
+
+After climbing the hill, a good deal of exertion for Maurice with his
+crutch, they paused to rest on the steps leading up from the gate of the
+Gilpin place.
+
+Rosalind, looking at the dignified mansion among the trees, felt the
+atmosphere of mysterious interest that always surrounds a closed and
+deserted house, particularly an old one upon which several generations
+have left their impress. She thought of the young and lovely Patricia, and
+the sailor lover who never came back.
+
+"Do you know, I feel very sorry for Aunt Patricia, Maurice. To have some
+one you love never come back--it must be very hard. I can understand a
+little now since father and cousin Louis went away. Miss Betty said she
+bore it bravely, too."
+
+"It was a long time ago," said Maurice, feeling that it was a waste of
+emotion to grieve over things that had happened so far back in the past.
+
+"But there is the ring. It is not so very long ago since that was here.
+Don't you wish we could go into the house and look for it? I believe it is
+there somewhere;" Rosalind spoke with assurance.
+
+"But they searched every nook and cranny," said Maurice.
+
+"If it were in a story, there would be a secret drawer somewhere. I wonder
+if Aunt Patricia isn't sorry it is lost." Rosalind sat in silence for a
+few moments, looking down at the town. "I like Friendship," she said.
+"There are a great many interesting things happening here, more than ever
+happen at home."
+
+The Gilpin house stood on an elevation of its own, from which the ground
+sloped gently in all directions. Its late owner had cared little for
+flowers and shrubs, but had taken pride in his trees, which still
+preserved the dignity of their forest days. At the back of the house there
+was a view of the little winding river, and halfway down the slope a once
+flourishing vegetable garden had turned itself into a picturesque
+wilderness of weeds. The charm of it all grew upon Rosalind as they walked
+about.
+
+"I should like to live here, Maurice. I like it better than our
+garden--grandmamma's, I mean. Let's sit on the grass, where we can see the
+river."
+
+Not far from them was the rustic summer-house which Miss Betty had called
+Patricia's arbor.
+
+"Maurice," Rosalind exclaimed, with conviction in her tone, "this is the
+Forest of Arden."
+
+"You talk about it as if it were all true, instead of only a story," said
+Maurice.
+
+"But it is true--one kind of true. Cousin Louis explained it to me
+once--ever so long ago, when I had a sore throat and couldn't go to the
+Christmas tree, at the president's. I cried and was dreadfully cross, and
+wouldn't look at my Christmas things; and after a while he asked me if I
+should like to live in the Forest of Arden. I was so surprised I stopped
+crying, and he told me that when we were brave and happy, we made a
+pleasant place for ourselves, where lovely things could happen, and when
+we were cross and miserable we made a desert for ourselves, where pleasant
+things couldn't possibly come about, just as if you want flowers to grow,
+you have to have good soil.
+
+"Cousin Louis can tell things in a very interesting way, and by and by I
+began to feel ashamed, and I made up my mind to try it; and when I told
+father, he said he would try too, and we found it was really true,
+Maurice. He and Cousin Louis and I--oh, we had such good times! We even
+told the president about it, and Cousin Louis said he was going to start a
+secret society of the Forest of Arden. Then he was ill, and everything
+stopped.
+
+"I know it isn't easy to stay in the Forest always, particularly when you
+are dreadfully lonesome, but the magician says if you keep on trying you
+will find the good in it after a while."
+
+"How can there be good in bad things?" Maurice demanded.
+
+"Did you read what was in my book? I know it by heart. 'If we choose, we
+may walk always in the Forest, where the birds sing and the sunlight sifts
+through the trees, where, although we sometimes grow footsore and hungry,
+we know that the goal is sure.' That means it will all come right in the
+end. Don't you know how, in the story, the people who hated each other all
+came to be friends in the Forest?"
+
+The sun travelling around the beech tree encroached upon their
+resting-place, and Maurice proposed moving farther down the slope. "Tell
+me about the secret society," he said, as they again settled themselves.
+
+"It was a very nice plan," Rosalind answered, clasping her knees and
+looking up into the tree top. "He told me about it one evening when he
+wasn't well and had to lie on the sofa, while father did the proofs. Only
+those could belong who made the best of things and knew the secret of the
+Forest. We were sure the president would join because he had had a great
+trouble and was very brave; and there was Mrs. Brown, who had lost all her
+money, and kept house for us. Then, I didn't have anything much to be
+brave about, but I have since, for I did so want to go with father and
+Cousin Louis. Perhaps that doesn't seem much," she added apologetically,
+"'but small things count,' Cousin Louis said."
+
+"I should think it might," Maurice agreed.
+
+"Aunt Patricia could have belonged," said Rosalind, her eyes still in the
+tree top. "I wonder if she knew about the Forest?"
+
+Maurice felt stirred by the picture her words called up of a great company
+of people all bearing hard things bravely. "There is Morgan," he
+suggested. "It must be hard to be deaf, yet he is always cheerful."
+
+"Yes, indeed, he could belong. He knows the secret of the Forest. And
+Maurice, you have a beautiful chance to be brave."
+
+Maurice's face grew red, he pushed his crutch impatiently from him. "I
+haven't been brave," he said.
+
+"No, you haven't," Rosalind acknowledged frankly; "but then you did not
+know about the Forest. Maurice, let's start a society, you and I, and
+perhaps some of the others will join. The magician will, I know."
+
+A shrill whistle was heard at this moment.
+
+"It is Jack," said Maurice; and sure enough that individual presently
+appeared and dropped down beside them, breathless from his run up the
+hill.
+
+"What are you two doing?" he puffed.
+
+"Talking. How warm you are!" and Rosalind offered her broad-brimmed hat
+for a fan. "Have you seen anything of Katharine?"
+
+"She and Belle are on the way. Say, what were you talking about? It seemed
+to be interesting." Jack rolled over on his back and blinked at the sky.
+
+Rosalind looked at Maurice. "Would you tell him?"
+
+"No," was the prompt reply, "he wouldn't care for it." He felt certain
+harum-scarum Jack would only be bored by the Forest, perhaps would make
+fun.
+
+Jack turned his face to Rosalind, "Tell me," he urged; "Maurice doesn't
+know what I like."
+
+"I will, then, as soon as the girls come."
+
+It was not long before Belle was heard calling, and she and Katherine came
+running across the grass and joined the group under the tree.
+
+"We are waiting for you; Jack wants to hear about the Forest," said
+Rosalind.
+
+"Yes, you promised to tell us what you meant, and how Morgan came to know
+about it." Belle cast her hat on the grass and shook back her hair.
+
+Maurice looked discontented. Jack and Belle would think it silly, and
+Katherine wouldn't understand.
+
+"Maurice knows about it, and perhaps some of the rest of you have read the
+story of the Forest of Arden," began Rosalind.
+
+Belle had, but Katherine and Jack had not so much as heard of it, so
+Rosalind told the story of the banished Duke and his followers who lived
+in the Forest, and were happy because they had learned to make the best of
+things and to find good even in trouble and disappointment; how Rosalind,
+the daughter of the Duke, was also banished, and with her cousin and the
+clown went to seek her father in the Forest; how Orlando, turned out of
+his home by his cruel elder brother, also went to the Forest in company
+with his old servant Adam; of their adventures there; and how finally the
+wicked Duke and the heartless brother, who were pursuing the runaways,
+came under the spell of the same Forest and repented of their evil deeds;
+and the story ended in forgiveness and love under the greenwood tree.
+
+It was just the day and place for the story. The joyous, lavish beauty of
+summer was everywhere around them, and as Rosalind told it her eyes took
+on the look Belle had described to her father. There was silence after she
+finished. Jack lay with his head on his arms, looking out on the river;
+Maurice was drawing beech leaves in his note-book, the discontent all gone
+from his face; Belle absently plaited the hem of her dress; while
+Katherine twisted a wreath of honeysuckle around her hat.
+
+"Is that all?" Belle asked, after a little.
+
+"That is the story; then I was telling Maurice about the meaning Cousin
+Louis found in it."
+
+"Tell us that," said Jack.
+
+Rosalind explained the Forest idea, and the plan for a secret society.
+This at once appealed to Belle.
+
+"That would be fun," she exclaimed. "We could have 'The Forest' for a
+watchword, and hold meetings out of doors somewhere."
+
+"Yes; 'under the greenwood tree,'" said Maurice.
+
+"I don't understand," said Katherine. "What are we to do?"
+
+"We promise to bear hard things bravely, and--"
+
+"Let's be like Robin Hood," Belle interrupted, "and help down-trodden
+people."
+
+"Do you know any?" asked her brother, turning over.
+
+"Jack makes me think of the dormouse in 'Alice,'" laughed Rosalind. "He is
+always going to sleep and waking up."
+
+"I'll tell you!" cried Belle, "let's search for the ring."
+
+"But we don't know where to look," said Katherine.
+
+"A thing isn't much lost if you know where to look, goosie," answered
+Maurice.
+
+"You see, it is partly pretend," Rosalind explained. "I think it is a
+beautiful idea, don't you, boys?" she asked.
+
+"Maurice, are you going to promise to bear hard things bravely?" Jack
+asked, with a quizzical look. It seemed to tickle him greatly, for he went
+off into a fit of laughing. "'See, the conquering hero comes,'" he hummed.
+
+Maurice pave him a thump with his crutch. "You aren't much of a hero,
+either," he said. "Who took the roof off when his tooth was pulled?"
+
+"But that hurt," said Jack, still laughing.
+
+"I am willing to own I have been making an awful fuss, but someway I
+hadn't thought about it, and I am willing to try if the rest are."
+
+"But I haven't any trouble," said Katherine.
+
+"Everybody has hard things to bear sometimes," replied Rosalind.
+
+"Doesn't Maurice ever snub you?" asked irrepressible Jack.
+
+"What shall we call our society?" Rosalind inquired, looking around the
+group for suggestions.
+
+Maurice tore a leaf from his note-book and divided it carefully into five
+parts, handing a slip to each of his companions.
+
+"Now be still for a while and think, and then write down a name."
+
+All was quiet for a time. "Now," said Maurice, "what is yours, Rosalind?"
+
+"The Secret Society of the Forest," said Rosalind.
+
+"Sons and Daughters of the Forest," announced Belle.
+
+"The Forest Society," said Jack.
+
+Katherine had not been able to think of a name. Maurice's was "The Arden
+Foresters," suggested, he said, by Belle's "Robin Hood."
+
+"I believe it is the best," said Rosalind, and so they all agreed finally,
+and the new society was named.
+
+"Now we must have a book and write in it what we promise," said Belle.
+
+"Let's appoint Rosalind and Maurice to draw up a--what do you call it?"
+suggested Jack.
+
+"I know," said Belle; "a constitution."
+
+"I meant to go into Patricia's Arbor, and I forgot," remarked Rosalind, as
+they walked home together.
+
+"I thought I saw some one sitting there when Belle and I passed," said
+Katherine.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER THIRTEENTH.
+
+IN PATRICIA'S ARBOR.
+
+"O, how full of briers is this working-day world."
+
+
+On this same bright morning when Rosalind for the first time saw the
+Gilpin place, Celia Fair carried her sewing, a piece of dainty lace work,
+to the old rustic summer-house. It made some variety in the monotony of
+things to sit here where she could lift her eyes now and then, and looking
+far away across the river to the hills, let them rest on a bit of sunny
+road that for a little space emerged from the shadow to disappear again on
+its winding way.
+
+On this stretch, of road the sunshine seemed always to lie warm and
+bright, and to Celia it brought a sense of restfulness. Perhaps in some
+far-off time the sunlight would again lie on her path.
+
+She loved the old place, and the thought that in all probability it would
+soon pass into the hands of strangers, troubled her. She had often sat
+here in Patricia's Arbor, beside old Thomas Gilpin, and listened to his
+reminiscences. She had been a favorite with the old man, all of the
+tenderness of whose nature had spent itself upon the wife who lived only a
+brief time; and in Celia's relationship to her, distant though it was, lay
+the secret of his regard.
+
+One of her earliest recollections was of taking tea at the Gilpin house in
+company with Genevieve and Allan Whittredge. Mild, fair-faced Miss Anne
+and her grim-visaged, cross-grained brother were a strangely assorted
+pair. Celia's childish soul had been filled with awe on these occasions.
+She had difficulty in keeping her seat in the stiff old haircloth chairs,
+or in crossing the polished floor of the drawing-room without slipping.
+
+At one end of this room stood the ancient spinet, long ago the property of
+her own great-grandmother, which she was told would some day be hers.
+Celia had been proud of this until Miss Anne, displaying her chief
+treasures, Patricia's miniature and ring, remarked upon Genevieve's
+likeness to her great-aunt. Genevieve, with the ring on her finger,
+looked complacently over her shoulder at the long mirror, and Celia was
+smitten with sudden envy. A great-grandmother called Saint Cecilia was not
+half so interesting as a beautiful great-aunt with a romantic love story;
+and an old and useless spinet not to be compared to a ring like
+Patricia's. That the ring was to be Genevieve's she never doubted.
+
+Allan had made fun of his sister and treated heirlooms in general with
+scorn, calling Celia to look at a print of Jonah in knee breeches and shoe
+buckles, emerging front the mouth of the whale. Allan always saw the fun
+in things.
+
+Between those days and the present there was a great gulf fixed. She had
+resolutely put away from her all these memories, and to-day she was
+annoyed that they should return in such force. They brought only pain to
+her tired heart.
+
+Her hands fell in her lap, and she gazed with unseeing eyes at the hills.
+After all, Patricia, mourning her lover, had not known the bitterest
+sorrow.
+
+The thought of her work, which must be done, aroused her. "What a weak
+creature I am, thinking my lot harder than that of any one else," she
+exclaimed, and taking up her needle she determinedly fixed her mind on the
+present. There was the suit Tom needed, and the grocery bill that should
+be paid the first of the month. She must work hard and not waste time in
+regrets. The summer that meant leisure and pleasure for many, meant only
+added cares for her.
+
+A surprising announcement broke in upon these dreary thoughts: "This is
+the Forest of Arden!"
+
+The voice was a sweet, girlish one, and came from somewhere behind the
+arbor, but the vines grew so thick she could not get a glimpse of the
+speaker. Celia went on with her work, feeling at first a little annoyed
+that her quiet should be disturbed, yet the suggestion of sylvan joy in
+the words grew upon her. The Forest of Arden--where they fleeted the time
+carelessly--what a rest for tired spirits it seemed to offer!
+
+"If we will, we may travel always in the Forest, where the birds sing and
+the sunlight sifts through the trees--" the same voice repeated. A stir of
+wind set the leaves rustling, and Celia lost the rest.
+
+"That means it will all come right in the end."
+
+"The people who hated each other all came to be friends in the Forest."
+
+Fragments like these floated in to Celia. Then she heard Maurice Roberta's
+voice saying, "Let's go farther down the slope." She went to the door of
+the arbor and looked out. As she had suspected, Maurice's companion was
+the girl she had encountered in the cemetery, Rosalind carried her hat in
+her hand, and as they crossed an open space the sunshine turned her hair
+to gold.
+
+Celia went back to her work. "It will all come right in the end,"--this
+was what Morgan had told her yesterday; it was strange that this child
+should cross her path again, and with the same message.
+
+"Even people who hated each other came to be friends in the Forest." To
+travel always in the Forest! How restful the idea! How would it seem not
+to hate anybody? To be really at peace? But it was not possible for her.
+
+Her thoughts would persist in dwelling upon Rosalind Whittredge. Again she
+recalled with shame the impulse that made her scorn the rose. She was
+glad she had picked it up and carried it home. Why should she have any
+feeling against Patterson Whittredge's daughter? Had not her father taken
+Patterson's side in the family trouble over his marriage? Ah, but that was
+long ago, and it was hard to forget that Rosalind, with her sweet, serious
+eyes, was after all Mrs. Whittredge's granddaughter, Genevieve's niece.
+
+"I wish she wasn't, and that I could see her and speak to her, and ask her
+what she means by the Forest," she thought. "She is gentle and sweet; she
+is not like the Whittredges. Why should I dislike her because she belongs
+to them? Oh, it is dreadful to hate people!" Celia hid her face in her
+hands, "but I do--I do," she added.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FOURTEENTH
+
+THE ARDEN FORESTERS
+
+"Like the old Robin Hood of England."
+
+
+"Article I. This Society shall be called 'The Arden Foresters,'" read
+Maurice. "That will do, won't it?"
+
+"Yes; and then let's put the object. It doesn't come next in this, but we
+shan't need so many articles," Rosalind answered, running her finger down
+the page of a blue bound book.
+
+The committee appointed to draw up a constitution for The Arden Foresters
+had set about it with great seriousness. Their surroundings may have had
+something to do with this, for their papers were spread out on the
+leather-covered table in the directors' room at the bank, immediately
+under the eye of a former president, whose portrait hung over the
+mantel-piece, while the large-faced clock on the wall gave forth its
+majestic "tick, lock."
+
+The blue book which was serving as a model, Rosalind had found on her
+aunt's table, and asked permission to use.
+
+"Well, then, 'Article II. The object of this Society shall be, To remember
+the Secret of the Forest; to bear hard things bravely; to search for the
+ring--' Anything else?"
+
+"Maurice, that is beautiful. Is there anything else?" Rosalind pressed her
+lips with a forefinger.
+
+"Belle wanted to have 'to help the needy,' or something of the kind."
+
+"The down-trodden," said Rosalind, laughing. "I don't like that, do you?"
+
+"Let's wait; we may think of something after a while. Where shall we meet?
+That might come next."
+
+"Under the trees at the Gilpin place, and when it rains we can go to
+Patricia's Arbor. What fun it would be to have a meeting in the rain!" A
+great pattering on the window-pane emphasized Rosalind's remark.
+
+Maurice wrote busily for a minute, looking up to ask, "What day shall we
+meet?"
+
+"Let's not say any day, and then we can do as we choose," Rosalind
+suggested, feeling that the restrictions of a constitution might be
+burdensome.
+
+Article III then read: "This Society shall hold its meetings at the Gilpin
+place."
+
+"Maurice, here are qualifications for membership. Ought we to have that?"
+
+"I don't know; what are they?"
+
+Rosalind bent over the book, "Let me see--'Intelligence, character, and--'
+such a funny word. 'R e c i p r o c i t y'; what is that?"
+
+Maurice looked over her shoulder, "'Rec--' Oh, I know, 'reciprocity.'"
+
+"What does it mean?" Rosalind asked.
+
+"I think it is something political."
+
+"Then we don't want it."
+
+However, as there was a dictionary in the room, it was thought best to
+consult it.
+
+"Here it is, 'mutual giving and returning,'" Maurice announced, when he
+found the place.
+
+"'Giving and returning,'" Rosalind repeated; "Maurice, look for 'mutual.'"
+
+"It means almost the same thing,' something reciprocal, in common,'" he
+said presently.
+
+"Then it means to do things for each other. I like that. Why couldn't we
+put that in Article II? It means 'helping.'"
+
+"How about qualifications, then?" asked Maurice.
+
+"I don't think I'd have any. We'll only ask the people we want."
+
+So reciprocity was added to Article II. As he wrote, Maurice laughed.
+"I'll bet they won't any of them know what it means," he said.
+
+"Then Article IV will be the watchword, 'The Forest,'" added Rosalind.
+"And, Maurice, don't you think it would be nice to choose a leaf for a
+badge? But perhaps we'd better decide that at the next meeting. Don't you
+think it is going to be fun?"
+
+Maurice agreed that it was, feeling sure Jack and Belle and Katherine must
+be impressed with the result of their afternoon's work. He had a new
+blank-book ready for the constitution, and on the first page he had
+already written: "The Arden Foresters--Secret Society," and at Rosalind's
+suggestion he now added the motto, "Good in everything."
+
+They surveyed it with pride, and Rosalind said, "I am just crazy to show
+it to somebody. Where is Katherine?"
+
+But Maurice thought it wouldn't be fair to the others to show it to her
+first.
+
+The rain continued to patter against the window. Rosalind sat with her
+elbows on the table, and her chin in her hands, watching Maurice as he
+folded the sheet of legal-cap paper on which the constitution was written,
+and placed it in the book.
+
+"Maurice," she said suddenly, lifting her eyes to the benevolent face of
+the bank president, "do you know Miss Celia Fair?"
+
+"Miss Celia? Why, of course I do."
+
+"Everybody seems to know everybody in Friendship. It's funny," Rosalind
+commented thoughtfully. "Then you can tell me just what sort of a person
+she is."
+
+"She is tip-top; I like Miss Celia," Maurice replied, with emphasis.
+
+"Do you think she is kind?"
+
+"Yes, indeed. The day I felt so badly about not going fishing,--the day
+you spoke to me through the hedge,--she came in and sat on the step and
+tried to cheer me up. Oh, yes, Miss Celia is kind."
+
+"But do you think she would be kind to some one she didn't know?" Rosalind
+persisted.
+
+Maurice looked at her in surprise, she seemed so much in earnest in these
+inquiries. "How can you be kind to people you don't know?" he asked.
+
+"I'll tell you about it if you won't tell. You see I am not quite sure."
+Then Rosalind told the incident of her meeting with Miss Fair in the
+cemetery. "She looked pleasant and as if she wanted to be friends at
+first, but she didn't say anything after I told her my name, and when I
+looked back, I am sure--almost sure--saw her throw the rose away."
+
+"Miss Celia wouldn't do a thing like that," Maurice asserted stoutly. "She
+couldn't have any reason for it; she doesn't know you."
+
+"Do you really think she wouldn't?" Rosalind asked, in a tone of relief.
+"You know there is a kind of a quarrel between her family and ours,--Belle
+said so,--and I thought perhaps that had something to do with it; but I am
+going to try to think I was mistaken about the rose."
+
+[Illustration: "LOOKING UP HE DISCOVERED HIS VISITORS."]
+
+While they talked the rain had ceased, and some rays of watery sunshine
+found their way in at the window.
+
+"Let's go to the magician's and show him the constitution and ask him to
+join," Rosalind proposed.
+
+Maurice was willing, and without a thought of the clouds they started
+gayly up the street. They were almost there when Rosalind said, "I believe
+it is going to rain, and we haven't an umbrella."
+
+"Perhaps we shall have to stay to supper with Morgan," Maurice suggested,
+laughing.
+
+"I had a very good supper there," said Rosalind. "I don't see why
+everybody should think it was so very funny in me to go."
+
+"No one else would have done it, that's all."
+
+When they looked in at the door of the magician's shop, he was busy with
+some scraps of leather. Around him were bottomless chairs, topless tables,
+and melancholy sofas with sagging springs exposed to view, and in one
+corner a tall, empty clock-case. With his spectacles on the tip of his
+nose and a pair of large shears in his hand, Morgan might have sat for the
+picture of some wonder-working genius. Looking up, he discovered his
+visitors, and a smile illumined his rugged face, as he waved them a
+welcome with the big shears. He was never too busy for company.
+
+"Come in, come in," he said; and jumping up he got out a feather duster
+and whisked off a chair for Rosalind, remarking that dust didn't hurt
+boys.
+
+Rosalind laid the book on the table among the scraps of leather, open at
+the page where Maurice had written the name of the society and the motto.
+Pointing to it, they explained that they wished him to join.
+
+Adjusting his spectacles, the magician carefully read the constitution.
+
+"The Secret of the Forest? What's that?" he asked.
+
+Rosalind pointed to the motto, whereupon he nodded approvingly, and went
+on. "Search for the ring--" he looked up questioningly; but when it was
+explained, he shook his head. "Stolen," he said.
+
+Reciprocity seemed to amuse him greatly. He repeated it several times,
+glancing from one to the other of his visitors.
+
+"Do you suppose he knows what it means?" Maurice asked Rosalind.
+
+The magician's quick eyes understood the question. "Golden Rule?" he
+asked.
+
+"Why, I did not think of that!" cried Rosalind.
+
+"Morgan has a lot of sense," Maurice replied, with an air of
+proprietorship.
+
+When he had read it all, the magician nodded approvingly. "I'll have to
+join because you have my motto," he said.
+
+"Then we have six members to begin with," Rosalind remarked joyfully.
+
+By this time it had grown dark again and the rain was beginning to fall,
+and while the magician, having a good deal on hand, continued his work,
+Maurice and Rosalind sat on the claw-footed sofa, regardless of dust.
+Curly Q. and Crisscross both sought refuge in the shop, and the latter
+proved himself capable of sociability by jumping up beside Rosalind.
+
+"Morgan really does make me think of a magician," she said, stroking
+Crisscross and looking at the cabinet-maker. "I saw a picture once called
+'The Magician's Doorway.' It was all of rich, polished marble, and you
+could look down a long dim passage where a blue light burned. Just at the
+entrance a splendid tiger was chained, and above his head hung a silver
+horn."
+
+"Was the horn to call the magician?" asked Maurice.
+
+"Yes, I suppose so; and you couldn't get it without going very near the
+tiger. Cousin Louis promised to write a story about it, but he never had
+time."
+
+A flash of lightning, followed immediately by a clap of thunder, startled
+them. Maurice went to the door and looked out. "It is going to be a big
+storm," he said.
+
+As he spoke the rain began to fall in torrents, hiding Miss Betty's house
+across the street from view. Suddenly a solitary figure with a dripping
+umbrella was almost swept into the shop.
+
+"Why, Miss Celia!" cried Maurice.
+
+"I began to think I would be drowned," she said, laughing breathlessly.
+
+The magician dropped his shears and took her umbrella.
+
+"You are wet; we must have a fire," he said.
+
+Celia protested. A summer shower wouldn't hurt. It was too warm for a
+fire. Rosalind meanwhile sat in the shadow, Crisscross beside her, the
+thought of the rose and of Aunt Genevieve's words making her hope Miss
+Fair would not see her. Her face was gentle; was it possible she could be
+unkind and disdainful?
+
+The magician came to the rescue. He didn't believe in quarrels anyway, and
+if he had considered the matter he probably would have argued that
+Rosalind could have no concern with those she knew nothing about; and
+observing her in the corner he said, with a wave of the dripping umbrella,
+"This is Mr. Pat's little girl, Miss Celia. You remember Mr. Pat?"
+
+Celia, shaking out her wet skirts, turned in surprise. As her eyes met
+Rosalind's she smiled. "Yes," was all she said.
+
+But after a while she came over and patted Crisscross, and said Rosalind
+must be a witch to have gained his affection so soon, and asked what she
+and Maurice were doing there, not as if she wanted an answer so much as
+just to be friendly.
+
+Rosalind felt a great relief, and her eyes were soft as she responded
+shyly.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FIFTEENTH.
+
+A NEW MEMBER.
+
+"In the circle of this Forest."
+
+
+In Friendship the summer was never fairly ushered in until Commencements
+were over. When the boys of the Military Institute, a mile beyond the
+village, had yelled their last yell from the back platform of the train as
+it swept around the curve, and Mrs. Graham's boarders had departed,
+accompanied by their trunks and the enthusiastic farewells of the town
+pupils, then, and not before, Friendship settled down to the enjoyment of
+picnics, crabbing parties, and moonlight excursions.
+
+Going away for the summer was almost unknown in Friendship; a week or two
+at the shore or in the mountains was as much as any of its loyal
+inhabitants dreamed of. To the few who like Genevieve Whittredge found the
+place dull at any season, the warm days afforded a welcome excuse for
+flitting.
+
+After the final decision in the Gilpin will case Friendship drew a long
+breath and acquiesced in the inevitable. Arguments and discussion lost
+their interest, and something like the old peace settled down on the town.
+
+The Gilpin house and its contents must now be sold, but summer was not an
+advantageous season, and the sale had been postponed till early fall in
+the hope of attracting from a distance lovers of old furniture.
+
+Thus the place was left untenanted. Weeds ran riot in the garden, the
+grass crept stealthily over the walks, and the clematis and honeysuckle on
+the low stone wall mingled their sweetness in undisturbed luxuriance. The
+Arden Foresters were free to come and go as they chose, the only other
+trespasser being Celia Fair, who when her household tasks were done often
+brought her sewing to Patricia's Arbor, with the feeling that her days
+there were numbered.
+
+At the Whittredges' Genevieve was making her preparations to leave soon
+after the return of her brother Allan, who was looked for any day. Her
+mother's restless mind had taken a sudden fitful interest in some
+genealogical question, and welcoming anything that diverted her thoughts
+from herself had thrown all her energies into the subject, spending most
+of her time at her desk or in reading old letters.
+
+Rosalind was left to go her ways; if she appeared at meal-time, no
+questions were asked, Miss Herbert, indeed, shook her head at such
+liberty. A girl of Rosalind's age should be learning something useful,
+instead of running about the village or poring over story books. She could
+not know that with a certain old play for a textbook the children she
+thought so harum-scarum were learning brave lessons this summer.
+
+Rosalind was happy. The hours when she was not with one or all of these
+new friends of hers were few, and these she usually spent in the garden,
+which she was beginning to love, with a book. She had discovered some old
+books of her father's, given to him in his boyhood, with his name and the
+date in them, in itself enough to cast a halo over the most stupid tale.
+
+When the sun shone on the garden seat beside the white birch, there was
+another favorite spot in the shade of a tall cedar, where an occasional
+stir of wind brought the spray from the fountain against her face.
+
+Yes, in spite of the puzzles, Rosalind was beginning to love Friendship.
+It was weeks since Great-uncle Allan had seemed to frown on her, and even
+the griffins wore a friendlier look; as for the rose, she had come to
+doubt the evidence of her own eyes since that afternoon at the magician's
+when Miss Fair had shown such friendliness.
+
+The summer so dreary in prospect to Maurice bade fair to be endurable
+after all. Rosalind's gray eyes, now merry, now serious, but always
+seeking the good in things, her contagious belief in the Forest, had
+stirred his manliness, making him conscious of his fretfulness, and then
+ashamed. His mother, who had dreaded the long holiday, wondered at his
+content. Katherine wondered a little too. The Forest of Arden made a very
+nice game, and it was pleasant to have Maurice in a good humor, but she
+did not quite understand the connection.
+
+Soon after the close of school Colonel Parton took his two older boys away
+on a western trip, leaving Jack with no resource but Maurice and the
+girls. The two boys were great chums, and as Maurice's knee made active
+sports impossible, Jack, too, gave them up for the most part.
+
+As for Belle, her indifference to Rosalind had turned into ardent
+admiration. She and Charlotte Ellis had a sharp dispute over the
+new-comer. Charlotte confessed she was disappointed in her, and pronounced
+her odd, all of which Belle deeply resented, the result being a decided
+coolness between them.
+
+"I am as glad as I can be Charlotte is going away this summer," she was
+heard to remark.
+
+"She can't be as glad as I am that we aren't going to be in the same
+town," was Charlotte's retort when the speech was repeated to her.
+
+The cleverness of Maurice and Rosalind was duly impressed upon the other
+three when the constitution of The Arden Foresters was read, and after
+careful consideration it had been copied in the blank-book, and beneath it
+the members signed their names. The excitement of Commencement week being
+over, a meeting was called to decide on a badge.
+
+It had been decided that any member might call a meeting, and the method
+was suggested by Belle. In each garden a spot was selected,--an althea
+bush at the Partons', a corner of the hedge at the Roberts's, a cedar near
+the gate at the Whittredges',--in which the summons, a tiny roll of paper
+tied with grass, was to be deposited.
+
+On the morning appointed for this meeting of The Arden Foresters, Celia
+Fair, knowing nothing about it, of course, had just settled herself in the
+arbor with a cushion at her back and her work-basket beside her, when
+Rosalind looked in. She carried a book and a bunch of leaves, and she
+seemed surprised to find the summer-house occupied. Her manner was
+hesitating as, after saying good morning, she asked if Miss Fair had seen
+Maurice or Belle.
+
+"No; are you expecting them? Won't you come in and sit down while you
+wait?" Celia asked, noticing the hesitation.
+
+"I wonder what they have told her about me?" was her thought. It brought a
+flush to her face, and yet why did she care?
+
+Rosalind accepted the invitation shyly. "I must be early," she said. "I
+was to meet the others here at ten, but I went to drive first with
+grandmamma."
+
+"It is still ten minutes of ten," Celia said, looking at her watch. "Are
+you going to have a picnic?"
+
+"No; only a meeting of our society."
+
+"What sort of a society?" Celia asked.
+
+"A secret society," Rosalind replied, with a demure smile.
+
+"Oh, is it? That sounds interesting, but I suppose I can't know any more.
+What is your book? That isn't part of the secret, is it?"
+
+Rosalind slipped off the paper cover and laid the little volume in Celia's
+lap.
+
+The young lady took it up, exclaiming with delight over the binding of
+soft leather, the handmade paper, and beautiful type. It fell open at the
+fly-leaf with the inscription.
+
+"And Professor Sargent gave you this Lovely book?" she said.
+
+Rosalind's eyes shone at this tribute. "Cousin Louis gave it to me just
+before he and father started for Japan, and he wrote that about the hard
+things because I wanted so much to go with them and I couldn't," she
+explained.
+
+"Rosalind, what was it you were talking to Maurice about, here behind the
+arbor one day? I couldn't help hearing a little. It had something to do
+with a forest." Celia had dropped the book in her lap and looked at
+Rosalind with something that was almost eagerness in her lace.
+
+Rosalind thought a moment, "Why, did you hear us? I know now what it was,"
+and she turned the leaves and pointed to the paragraph beginning, "If we
+will, we may travel always in the Forest," then she added shyly, "You
+ought to belong to the Forest because of your name."
+
+"'So losing by the way the sacred gift of happiness,'" Celia repeated, her
+eyes on the book. "What do you mean by belonging to the Forest?" she
+asked, looking up.
+
+Rosalind seldom needed to be urged to talk on this subject, and she had a
+sympathetic listener as she explained the Forest secret, and told how it
+had helped her in the loneliness of those first days in Friendship.
+
+Celia was lonely and sad. She had held aloof so long in her proud reserve
+that now there seemed nowhere to turn for the sympathy she longed for, and
+Rosalind's little allegory, with its simple message of patience and hope,
+fell upon ground well prepared.
+
+"Oh, Rosalind," she cried, "show me how to live in the Forest!" and with a
+manner altogether out of keeping with the Celia known to most persons, she
+drew the child to her. "I wish you would love me, dear," she said.
+
+Rosalind's shyness faded away. She forgot about the rose, and Aunt
+Genevieve's words. Here was a new friend, one who cared about the Forest.
+She responded warmly to Celia's caress, and when a few minutes later the
+other Arden Foresters rushed upon the scene, the two were talking together
+as if they had known each other always.
+
+"Miss Celia, are you going to join our society?" asked Belle, the ardent,
+flying to her side and giving her a hug.
+
+"Don't stick yourself on my needle! I haven't been invited yet. Rosalind
+tells me it is a secret society, and of course I am dying to know about
+it."
+
+"Let's tell her," said Katherine.
+
+"Girls always want to tell everything," remarked Jack, causing Belle to
+frown upon him sternly.
+
+"The magician has joined," added Rosalind.
+
+"Then I don't see why Miss Celia can't. Do you, Maurice?" asked Belle.
+
+"Listen, Belle," said Celia, laughing, and without waiting for Maurice's
+reply, "there may be some difference of opinion as to whether I should be
+a desirable member or not; suppose you go over there under the oak and
+talk it over. Then if you want me I'll consider the question."
+
+This seemed a sensible suggestion, and the Foresters retired to the shade
+of the scarlet oak to discuss the matter. Jack had meant nothing but a
+fling at the feminine fondness for telling things, and was astonished that
+his remark could be supposed to reflect upon Miss Celia; and as no one
+else found any objection to the new member, they returned presently to
+inform her that she was by unanimous consent invited to become an honorary
+member of their society.
+
+"As honorary members aren't expected to do much, I'll consider it. Now
+please tell me about it. What is its name and object?"
+
+Maurice produced the book and read, "'The name of this Society shall be
+The Arden Foresters.'"
+
+"That sounds like Robin Hood, don't you think?" Belle put in.
+
+"'The object,'" Maurice continued, "'shall be to remember the Secret of
+the Forest, to bear hard things bravely, to search for the ring, and
+reciprocity.'"
+
+"What ring?" Celia asked, smiling at the queer ending to this article.
+
+"Don't you know? Patricia's ring. The one that is lost," Rosalind
+explained, sorting her leaves.
+
+"I fear it is a hopeless quest."
+
+"Maurice," Rosalind exclaimed, "that is the word we wanted,--the 'quest'
+of the ring. Let's put it in."
+
+"What does it mean?" asked Katherine.
+
+"A search," Celia answered.
+
+"Then why won't 'search' do?"
+
+"But 'quest' sounds more like the Forest," Rosalind urged.
+
+"More romantic," added Belle, adjusting her comb and tying her ribbon.
+
+"One word is as good as another if it means what you want to say,"
+insisted Jack. "They think they are so smart with their 'reciprocity,' and
+they got it out of a book."
+
+Rosalind glanced at him reproachfully. "We looked in the dictionary for
+the meaning," she said.
+
+"I see no objection to getting it out of a book. Most constitutions are
+patterned after others, and reciprocity is a good word. Is there any
+more?" Miss Celia spread her work on her knee and turned to Maurice.
+
+"Just the watchword 'The Forest.'"
+
+"I like your society very much and want to join if, as you suggested, I
+can be an honorary member. I can try to bear hard things bravely, and
+remember the Forest secret, although I haven't any time to give to the
+quest of the ring."
+
+"Then let her write her name under the magician's," said Rosalind,
+clapping her hands. "Now we have seven members."
+
+Maurice had his fountain-pen in his pocket, just as if he had expected a
+new member this morning, and Celia signed her name in the book beneath
+"C.J. Morgan, Magician."
+
+"He wrote that for fun, because Rosalind calls him 'the magician,'" Belle
+explained.
+
+"I haven't heard that old title for many a year," Celia remarked, as she
+waited for her signature to dry.
+
+"Now we have to choose a badge," said Belle.
+
+Rosalind spread out her collection of leaves. "We thought a leaf would be
+appropriate," she added. There were beech, and maple, and poplar, and oak
+in several varieties.
+
+"I think I should choose this," and Celia pointed to a leaf from the
+scarlet oak. "Not only because it is beautiful in shape, but because the
+oak tree stands for courage. A 'heart of oak' has become a proverb, you
+know."
+
+Rosalind's eyes grew bright. "I didn't think of its having a meaning. I
+like that."
+
+"And in the fall we'll have scarlet badges instead of green ones," said
+Jack.
+
+There could be no better choice than this, they all agreed; and Jack
+gathered a handful, that they might put on their badges at once.
+
+"On our way home we must stop and tell the magician about it," Rosalind
+said, as she pinned a leaf on Celia's dress.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER SIXTEENTH.
+
+RECIPROCITY.
+
+    "Take upon command what we have,
+     That to your wanting may be ministered."
+
+
+"Celia Fair, do you realize what you have done?"
+
+It was Celia who asked herself the question. She was suffering, as
+reserved people must, from the reaction that follows an unusual outburst
+of feeling. That had been a happy morning in the arbor; she had let
+herself go, had listened to her heart and forgotten her pride, and in the
+company of the merry Arden Foresters, the old joy of youth had asserted
+itself. The brightness had stayed with her for days; she had dreamed she
+could make a fairy tale of life, spending her hours in an enchanted
+forest, and now had come the awakening.
+
+It seemed destined from the beginning to be a day of misfortunes. She woke
+with a dull, listless feeling, and the first thing to greet her eyes when
+she went downstairs was the woolly head of Bob, the grandson of her sole
+dependence, Aunt Sally, waiting on the doorstep to impart the cheering
+information that granny had the "misery" in her side mighty bad, and
+couldn't come to-day.
+
+At another time it might not have mattered so much, for the boys were away
+from home, and breakfast for two did not offer any insuperable
+difficulties to Celia, but there were currants and raspberries waiting to
+be made into jelly and preserves. To complicate matters, Mrs. Fair had one
+of her severe headaches.
+
+The fruit would not keep another day, and Celia couldn't leave the house
+to go down the hill in search of help, even if she had known just where to
+seek it. After making her mother as comfortable as possible, she began on
+the currants with sombre energy.
+
+"May I come in, Miss Celia? Will you lend me a cup?" It was Jack who stood
+in the door.
+
+"Help yourself," she replied, "I am too busy to stop."
+
+"We want to get some water from the spring," he explained. "Aren't you
+coming over to-day?"
+
+Celia shook her head.
+
+Jack surveyed the piles of fruit. "Jiminy! have you all this to do?"
+
+"Yes; Aunt Sally is sick this morning, and it can't wait."
+
+Jack disappeared, leaving Celia to her gloomy thoughts, but ten minutes
+had not passed before he was back again, accompanied by the other Arden
+Foresters.
+
+"We have come to help," they announced.
+
+For a moment Celia was annoyed. She had made up her mind to be a martyr
+and did not care to be disturbed.
+
+"Indeed, you can't," she said. "I am very much obliged, but you would
+stain yourselves, and--"
+
+"Give us some aprons," interrupted Belle. "Mother lets us help her."
+
+Maurice added, "It is reciprocity, Miss Celia."
+
+Celia's ill temper wavered and went down before the row of bright faces.
+"Well, perhaps you may help if you really want to, but it is tiresome
+work."
+
+They did not seem to find it so, as they sat around the table on the
+porch, carefully done up in checked aprons, three of them at work on the
+raspberries, and two helping Celia with the currants.
+
+Each wore a fresh oak leaf, and nothing would do but Rosalind must run
+back to get one for Miss Celia; and there must have been magic in it, so
+suddenly did Celia's courage revive.
+
+"I feel better," she said, stopping to turn the leaves of the cook-book.
+"Let me see,--'boil several hours till the juice is well out of the
+fruit,'--Sally always lets it drip over night into the big stone jar. I
+shall have these currants out of the way by dinner-time. You are really a
+great help. I wish there was something I could do for you."
+
+"Tell us a story, Miss Celia," Belle suggested promptly.
+
+"I don't know any."
+
+"Something about when you were a little girl," said Katherine.
+
+Celia hesitated. "The only story I know is about a magician and a tiger,
+Rosalind's calling Morgan 'the magician' reminded me of it."
+
+"I love magicians and tigers," Rosalind remarked. "Do you remember the
+picture I told you about, Maurice? Do tell it to us, Miss Celia."
+
+Celia wondered afterward how she could have done it, but now she thought
+of nothing but her desire to please the children, so she began:--
+
+"Once there was a little girl who loved fairy tales and believed with all
+her heart in fairies, magicians, and ogres. In the town where she had
+recently come to live she had a playmate, a boy, who laughed at her for
+thinking there were such creatures in the world, and the two often argued
+the matter.
+
+"One day this little girl was sitting on the fence looking up at the sky
+and wishing something would happen, when she heard the boy calling her.
+She answered, and he came running across the grass and climbed up beside
+her, and with an air of great mystery told her he knew a secret. Of course
+the little girl was anxious to hear it, and of course the boy tried to
+tease her by refusing to tell. But by and by he could keep it no longer,
+and in tones of awe he whispered that he knew a magician who lived in
+their very town.
+
+"The little girl clapped her hands; for if her playmate believed in
+magicians, he must surely come to believe in fairies too.
+
+"The boy went on to explain that this magician appeared exactly like other
+men, so that few guessed his mysterious power. He lived in a house quite
+like other houses except that its door was painted black; but behind this
+door lay a tiger, always ready to spring upon any one who tried to enter.
+On this great tiger in some way depended the magician's power.
+
+"There had been a fire in the village recently, which, the boy said, had
+been caused by the magician, as well as certain other calamities, such as
+scarlet-fever and measles, and the time had come when this must be
+stopped. The boy claimed to have discovered--he did not say how--that the
+magician's tiger had three white whiskers, all the rest being black, and
+in these white whiskers resided all his power. If in any way they could be
+removed, he and his master would be harmless forevermore.
+
+"But how was this to be done? the little girl wanted to know, feeling
+deeply impressed meanwhile by the tragedy of the situation.
+
+"The only way, the boy replied, was to catch the tiger while he slept, and
+then--a snip of the scissors, and he could do no more harm. The little
+girl had some round-pointed scissors hanging from a ribbon around her
+neck, for she was fond of cutting things; she took them in her hand now
+and looked at them with a shiver as the boy added in a tragic whisper,
+'_We_ must do it!'
+
+"Although she was very much afraid, she never thought of objecting. It was
+her duty, and she had great confidence in her companion. He could do many
+things she couldn't do, and he was ten and she only six; so when he
+examined the scissors and said they would answer, without a word of
+objection she slipped down from the fence and trotted beside him.
+
+"It seemed quite natural that the way should be over fences and through
+back yards instead of along the street. They climbed rails and squeezed
+through hedges until the little girl was breathless and had not the least
+idea where she was, when she found herself in a narrow garden-path, on
+either side of which grew hollyhocks and sunflowers.
+
+"'There is the door,' the boy whispered; and--yes--at the end of the path
+she saw the black door.
+
+"'This is the hour when he sleeps,' the boy said, in thrilling tones,
+looking at an imaginary watch. 'We have timed it well. I will open the
+door softly, and you have your scissors ready; I will hold him while you
+cut off the whiskers.' The little girl's heart almost stopped beating, but
+she had no thought of running away.
+
+"They reached the door; the boy had his hand on the knob. He was opening
+it very gently--when something happened! He stumbled, or his hand slipped.
+It flew open and there before them stood the magician, brandishing a
+glittering sword, and beside him were the gleaming eyes of a tiger.
+
+"With a cry of terror the little girl fell all in a heap, grasping her
+scissors, shutting her eyes tight till all should be over. Then some one
+picked her up and asked if she was hurt, and slowly gaining courage she
+opened her eyes and looked into the kind face of Morgan, the
+cabinet-maker. At his side was Tiger, the great striped cat, and on the
+work-bench lay his shining saw. The boy stood by, laughing."
+
+"I thought he must be fooling her," remarked Katherine, in a tone of
+relief.
+
+"You don't mean it!" said Maurice, with fine sarcasm.
+
+"But finish, Miss Celia," begged Rosalind. "What did the little girl
+think?"
+
+"I believe for a long time she was greatly puzzled. There seemed to have
+been magic somewhere. She examined Tiger's whiskers and found them all
+black, and this made her think it possible that some one else had cut out
+the white ones, and thus turned him into a harmless cat. She felt a little
+uneasy at times, for fear the cabinet-maker would turn again into the
+wicked magician, but it never happened."
+
+"And did she go on believing in fairies?" Rosalind asked.
+
+"Oh, yes, for a while. I am not sure she doesn't yet."
+
+"Cousin Louis says that is one of the advantages of the 'Forest of Arden,'
+you can believe in all those delightful things."
+
+"Were there fairies there?" asked Belle. "I don't remember any."
+
+"There would have been if occasion had called for them," Celia answered.
+
+"But you don't want to believe things if they aren't true, do you?"
+Katherine looked puzzled. "I wish there were fairies now, but I know there
+aren't."
+
+"You can't prove there aren't," asserted Jack, mischievously.
+
+"Why, Jack, you know there aren't any fairies really."
+
+"I said you couldn't prove it."
+
+"How can you say they do not exist unless you have seen one not existing?
+Isn't that the argument in 'Water Babies'?" laughed Celia, as she carried
+the currants into the kitchen. "It is the difference between fact and
+fancy, Katherine," she said, coming back.
+
+"I love to pretend things," said Rosalind.
+
+"So do I," echoed Belle.
+
+"Fancy does more than that, it really makes things beautiful. For
+instance, it makes the difference between a plain, straight letter such as
+you see in the newspaper and such a letter as I was embroidering
+yesterday. Some one's fancy saw the plain S ornamented with curving lines
+and sprays of flowers, and so it came to be made so."
+
+"That makes me think of those beautiful books the monks used to make,"
+said Maurice.
+
+"The illuminated manuscripts, you mean? That word expresses what fancy
+does for us,--it illuminates the plain facts, and fills them with beauty."
+
+"Oh, Miss Celia, that is a lovely idea," cried Rosalind. "I must remember
+it to tell Cousin Louis."
+
+"I fear be wouldn't find it very new," Celia answered, smiling.
+
+By noon the fruit was all picked over, and as Celia stood at the gate
+watching her helpers out of sight, old Sally came laboring up the walk.
+
+"Law, honey, look like I couldn't rest from studyin' how you was gwine to
+git them berries done, an' I 'lowed, misery or no misery, I was comin' to
+help you," she announced.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER SEVENTEENTH.
+
+A NEW COMRADE.
+
+"I know you are a gentleman of good conceit."
+
+
+Rosalind and Maurice sat on the garden bench discussing "The Young
+Marooners," one of the story books found in the garret.
+
+"I shouldn't like to be carried off by a big fish as they were, but I do
+think some sort of an adventure would be interesting. Don't you?" asked
+Rosalind.
+
+"We'll have to do something," Maurice agreed, "Don't you wish we could get
+inside the Gilpin house? Mr. Wells, the teller in our bank, sleeps there.
+I wish he would drop the key."
+
+"Grandmamma says it will be open for people to go through before the sale,
+but then it will be too late to look for the ring. Belle is so good at
+thinking of things, I wish she would find a way for us to get in,"
+Rosalind added.
+
+A bell was heard ringing on the other side of the hedge, and Maurice
+rose. "Dinner is ready," he said.
+
+Rosalind walked to the gate with him. "Uncle Allan is coming to-morrow,"
+she remarked, "and I just wonder what he is like."
+
+Turning toward the house again, she became aware of a stranger standing
+beside the griffins. He was not waiting to get in, for the door was open
+behind him, and furthermore he had the air of being at home. Something in
+his height and the breadth of his shoulders suggested her father, and as
+she drew nearer a certain resemblance to Aunt Genevieve developed.
+
+He watched her approach with a look of puzzled interest. "Surely, this
+isn't Rosalind," he said.
+
+Rosalind paused on the bottom step. "Why, yes, it is. Are you Uncle
+Allan?"
+
+"A great tall girl like you my niece? Pat's daughter? Impossible!" There
+was a twinkle in his eye. Clearly, Uncle Allan was a tease.
+
+"I suppose I shall have to be identified," said Rosalind, merrily.
+
+"I begin to see a look of Pat about you." He came down the steps now and
+took her hand. "Let's sit here and get acquainted," he said, leading the
+way to the bench under the birch tree.
+
+Two pairs of eyes, the brown and the gray, looked into each other steadily
+and soberly for a few seconds, then a dimple began to make itself visible
+in Rosalind's check, whereat the brown eyes twinkled again. "Well, what do
+you think of me?" they asked.
+
+"You aren't much like Great-uncle Allan," said Rosalind, laughing.
+
+"Heavens! was that your idea of me? And I expected you to be a child of
+tender age, although I should have known better. It is nearly fourteen
+years since Pat went away."
+
+"Uncle Allan, did you know my mother?" It was the first time Rosalind had
+mentioned her mother since she had been in Friendship. She could not have
+explained her silence any more than she could this sudden question.
+
+"I did not know her, Rosalind. I wish I might have. I saw her once, and I
+have never forgotten her face."
+
+"I can remember her just a little, but father and Cousin Louis have told
+me about her, and I have her picture."
+
+"I think," said Uncle Allan, confidently, "that we are going to be
+friends. Tell me how you like Friendship."
+
+"I like it now. I was dreadfully lonely at first, till things began to
+happen. Then there was Cousin Betty's tea party, where I met Belle and
+Jack and the rest, and now--oh, I like it very much! It is a funny place.
+Aunt Genevieve says you don't like it any better than she does."
+Rosalind's tone was questioning.
+
+"I believe it does seem rather a stupid old town," he acknowledged. "What
+do you find interesting about it?"
+
+"There is the magician and his shop; and the out of doors is so
+beautiful--almost like the country; and the houses are different from
+those in the city; and there is the will, and the lost ring." Rosalind
+suddenly remembered her uncle's connection with the ring.
+
+He did not seem to understand, for he asked, "What ring?" then added, "Oh,
+you mean the Gilpin will. Who has told you about that?"
+
+"Cousin Betty; and she told us the story of Patricia's ring, Uncle Allan,
+don't you wish we could find it?"
+
+Allan Whittredge smiled at the eager face. "I can't say I care much about
+it," he replied; then seeing her disappointment, he added, "It was a
+handsome old ring. Should you like to have it?"
+
+"I'd like to see it; but of course it wasn't meant for me. Cousin Betty
+said--" Rosalind paused, for the expression on her uncle's face was more
+than ever like Aunt Genevieve, and he exclaimed impatiently, "Stuff!"
+
+She felt rather hurt. She had expected him to be as interested in the ring
+as she was. What did he mean by "stuff"? And why didn't he like
+Friendship? Rosalind fell to pondering all this, sitting in the corner of
+the bench, looking down at her hands, crossed in her lap.
+
+After some minutes' silence she felt her chin lifted until her eyes met
+the gaze of the merriest brown ones, from which all trace of disdain or
+impatience was gone.
+
+"What are you thinking about so soberly? Are you disappointed in me, after
+all?"
+
+Rosalind laughed. "I am just sorry you don't like Friendship."
+
+"Perhaps it is because I have been away so long. I used to like it when I
+was a boy."
+
+"Can't you turn into a boy again?"
+
+"Perhaps I might, if you will show me how."
+
+Rosalind clapped her hands. "I don't think I am a bit disappointed in you,
+and I am almost sure you will like the Forest."
+
+"What forest?"
+
+"I'll show you the book and tell you about it sometime; and then maybe you
+will join our society."
+
+"This sounds interesting; I believe I shall like Friendship."
+
+Rosalind surveyed him thoughtfully. "I think I'll begin by taking you to
+see the magician," she said.
+
+By what witchery did she divine that the shortest path to his boyhood was
+by way of the magician's?
+
+"The magician? Oh, that is Morgan, I suppose." Allan's eyes rested
+absently on the drooping hydrangea a few feet away.
+
+Presently a soft hand stole beneath his chin, and Rosalind demanded
+merrily, as she tried to turn his face to hers, "What are you thinking
+about? Are you disappointed in me?"
+
+"Not terribly," her uncle replied, and seizing the hand he drew her to
+him and gave her the kiss of friendship and good-fellowship.
+
+Rosalind was fastidious about kisses. She reserved them for those she
+loved, and received them shrinkingly from those she did not care for; but
+in this short interview she had found a friend, and she returned the
+caress with an ardor of affection pretty to see.
+
+Martin, announcing lunch, interrupted their talk, and, hand in hand,
+Rosalind and her new comrade walked to the house. In the exuberance of her
+content, she patted one of the griffins as she passed. Her uncle observed
+it.
+
+"Have you ever noticed the resemblance between Uncle Allan Barnwell and
+the griffins?" he asked.
+
+The idea amused Rosalind greatly, and as she took her seat at the table,
+the sight of the haughtily poised head and eagle eyes of the portrait made
+her laugh. Things were indeed taking a turn when that stern face caused
+amusement.
+
+With Uncle Allan at the foot of the table, luncheon was transformed into a
+festive occasion. Masculine tones were almost startling from their
+novelty; Rosalind found herself forgetting to eat. Grandmamma was
+wonderfully bright, and Aunt Genevieve showed a languid animation most
+unusual.
+
+"It was like you, Allan, after putting us off so long, to end by
+surprising us," his sister said.
+
+"I trust you intend to stay for a while," his mother added, almost
+wistfully.
+
+Genevieve laughed half scornfully, as if she considered this a forlorn
+hope.
+
+Allan looked at her a moment before he replied, "I don't know; I shall
+probably be here some time." He had more than half promised his friend
+Blanchard to join him in a trip over the Canadian Pacific in August. At
+present he felt inclined to give it up and remain in Friendship. He would
+not commit himself.
+
+He thought it over lazily after lunch, resting in the sleepy-hollow chair
+by the east window in the room that had been his ever since he graduated
+from the nursery. All about him were devices for comfort and adornment
+that spoke of his mother's hand. She knew the sort of thing he liked,--his
+handsome, unhappy mother. It was a shame to leave her so much alone; yet
+she never complained, but seemed always self-sufficient and independent.
+
+And then Allan began to reflect on the singular fact that he was seldom
+quite at ease with his mother, although he admired her, and at one time
+had been very much under her influence. If he had ceased to care for his
+home, it was her fault for sending him away for so long. "Poor mother!" he
+thought. "We have all disappointed her; but she was never quite fair to
+any of us. She wanted us to go her way, and, being her children, we
+preferred our own."
+
+The sound of Rosalind's voice floated in at the window. He looked out. She
+was crossing the lawn, after an interview with Katherine through the
+hedge.
+
+"When are we to begin?" he called.
+
+"Whenever you like," she answered.
+
+He went down and joined her in the garden, thinking what a difference she
+made in the place. He had not supposed a girl of twelve could be so
+charming; but then, she was his brother's daughter, with something of her
+father about her, and he had felt a little boy's admiration for this older
+brother.
+
+Rosalind told him it was almost like having father or Cousin Louis to talk
+to; and as they wandered about the garden Allan found himself feeling
+flattered at her evident pleasure in his society.
+
+She brought out her treasured book to show him, and explained about the
+Forest; and Allan listened absently, noting the soft curve of her cheek
+and the length of the dark lashes, his memory going back to that one
+occasion when he had seen the gentle and lovely girl who was afterward his
+brother's wife.
+
+"And now we must go to the magician's," said Rosalind.
+
+Not many of the inhabitants of Friendship were abroad in the middle of a
+summer afternoon, and they had the street almost to themselves when they
+set out. The quiet, the bowed shutters, the deserted porches, suggested a
+universal nap. Allan looked up at the tall maples, whose branches met
+across the road just as they had done in his childhood. Truly, there was a
+charm about the old town, with its homelike dwellings and generous
+gardens, he acknowledged to himself. "I believe we are the only people
+awake," he remarked.
+
+"The magician will be awake," Rosalind replied; and so he was, rubbing
+down the clock case to-day, but by no means too much occupied for company,
+and he welcomed his visitors cordially, saying Allan was one of his boys.
+
+Rosalind was amazed at the ease and rapidity with which her uncle talked
+with the cabinet-maker.
+
+"Have you come home to stay this time, Mr. Allan?" Morgan asked.
+
+Allan laughed, and said he did not know about that.
+
+"Two--four--eight years--" the magician told them off on his fingers,
+shaking his head. "Too long. Take root somewhere, Mr. Allan; too much
+travel spoils you. Your father loved Friendship."
+
+"Yes," said Allan, gravely.
+
+"You make him join the society," Morgan said, turning to Rosalind.
+
+"He means our secret society," she explained. "He belongs, and he has our
+motto on the wall," and she drew her uncle to the door of the back room
+and pointed it out.
+
+"Oh, I remember Morgan's motto, 'Good in everything.' Does one have to
+subscribe to that in order to join this society?"
+
+[Illustration: "THEY CROSSED OVER TO SPEAK TO HER."]
+
+"That is one thing."
+
+"If there are many such requirements, I fear I shall prove not eligible."
+
+"Does that mean you can't join?" Rosalind asked, looking disappointed.
+
+"Well, I'll consider it. I'll try to be broad-minded and practise
+believing impossible things, like Alice."
+
+"'Six impossible things before breakfast,'" quoted Rosalind. "I am so glad
+you know Alice; but it was the White Queen, wasn't it?"
+
+"I shouldn't wonder if it was," Allan answered, laughing.
+
+They went out to the little garden to see the sweet peas and nasturtiums,
+and the magician insisted upon gathering some. While they waited Rosalind
+told her uncle about the time she took tea with him.
+
+When at last they left the shop, Miss Betty was standing in her door, and
+they crossed over to speak to her.
+
+"Well, Allan, I am glad to see you at last," she said, coming down the
+walk to meet them.
+
+"You do not appear to have pined away in my absence," he replied, shaking
+hands.
+
+Miss Betty shrugged her shoulders. "I was never much on pining, but my
+curiosity has been sadly strained."
+
+"What about?"
+
+"You know very well. That ring."
+
+"Now, if that isn't like Friendship," said Allan, laughing, as he followed
+her to the porch and made himself comfortable in one of the big rocking
+chairs. Rosalind sat on the step arranging her flowers and listening.
+
+"I would have you know I have something else to think about besides
+foolish and unreasonable wills and lost jewels," Allan continued. "I
+regret I cannot relieve the strain, but so far as I know, the ring has not
+been heard of and is not likely to be."
+
+"But if it should be found?" said Miss Betty. "Stranger things have
+happened."
+
+"Yes," said Allan.
+
+"Then the question is, do you know what you are going to do with it?"
+
+"That is a question with which I shall not trouble myself until it is
+found. I am a lazy person, as you know, Cousin Betty."
+
+"I know nothing of the sort, Allan. Now, there is one thing you might
+tell me. Do you know what Cousin Thomas meant, or was it one of his jokes?
+Yes or no."
+
+"No," answered Allan, promptly.
+
+Miss Betty looked puzzled; then she laughed. "It is like playing tit, tat,
+toe, to talk to you," she exclaimed. "I might have known you'd get ahead
+of me."
+
+"I have answered your question as you desired; now let's change the
+subject," he suggested gravely.
+
+Rosalind gave a gentle little chuckle. Miss Betty looked at her. "What do
+you think of your uncle, Rosalind?" she asked.
+
+"You certainly have the gift for asking pointed questions," Allan
+remarked, before Rosalind could speak. "I can tell you what she expected.
+She had an idea that I resembled Uncle Allan Barnwell."
+
+"Gracious! You must be relieved. I could have told you better than that."
+
+"I didn't really think it; I only wondered," said Rosalind.
+
+Miss Betty laughed in a reminiscent sort of way. "Do you remember him,
+Allan? But no, I fancy you were too little. He used to visit at our house
+when I was a child, and I was never so afraid of any one. I suppose you
+have heard the story of his wedding?"
+
+"I have a dim recollection of the story. Tell it to Rosalind."
+
+"Well," she began, "Uncle Allan was a minister, you know. A Presbyterian
+of the sternest stuff, rich in eloquence and power of argument, but poor
+in this world's goods. However, he judiciously fell in love with Matilda
+Greene, the only daughter of a wealthy Baltimore merchant. As was natural,
+Matilda chose for her wedding-gown a gorgeous robe of white satin, and all
+the preparations for the event were on a lavish scale. When the day came
+and the guests had assembled, and the bride in her beautiful gown and lace
+veil appeared before the eyes of the bridegroom, Uncle Allan created a
+sensation by sternly declaring that such a dress was inappropriate for the
+bride of a humble minister of the Gospel.
+
+"And the meek Matilda, instead of telling him he could marry her as she
+was or not at all, took off her satin, put on a simple muslin, and the
+ceremony was performed. Uncle Allan always referred to his wife as 'My
+Matilda'; and if the truth were known, I fancy she couldn't call her soul
+her own."
+
+"I remember the story," said Allan, laughing. "We come of a stubborn
+family. What would have happened if Matilda had asserted herself?"
+
+"He had her at a disadvantage,--the guests waiting,--but she missed the
+chance of a lifetime," said Miss Betty.
+
+"Was Matilda fond of him?" asked Rosalind.
+
+"Let us hope so; at any rate she always spoke of him as 'My Allan.'"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER EIGHTEENTH.
+
+AN IMPRISONED MAIDEN.
+
+    "The house doth keep itself,
+     There's none within."
+
+
+It was plain to Rosalind that for some reason her uncle did not wish to
+discuss the ring; nor did he seem to care whether or not it was found. It
+was also plain that he did not agree with his mother and sister on the
+question of the will.
+
+On one occasion when Genevieve made some scornful reference to the
+probable motives of those who upheld the later one, Allan exclaimed in a
+tone of irritation, "It is beyond my comprehension how you can have so
+much feeling in the matter. I have seen no reason to suppose the old man
+incapable of making a will. The testimony seemed to point the other way;
+and as nobody except the hospital had anything to gain by this last win,
+it strikes me as worse than absurd to impute motives of jealousy to
+people who were only giving their honest opinion."
+
+"It must be because we are not blest with your truly amiable disposition,"
+Genevieve observed languidly.
+
+A smile flitted across Rosalind's face; her uncle had spoken with a good
+deal of heat. Allan himself laughed. His fits of irritation usually ended
+in this way.
+
+"Well, it is all over now, and we may as well make the best of it. You
+shall have Patricia's miniature if I can get it for you."
+
+"Thank you," said Genevieve, really gratified. "I fear you do not know
+what you are promising."
+
+Rosalind wondered how her uncle felt in regard to the Fairs, and she once
+or twice mentioned Celia, watching him furtively meanwhile. There was,
+however, no shadow of a change in his expression, and he made no comment.
+
+A vast difference was made in the house by Allan's return. He stood in no
+awe of Miss Herbert, had no qualms about disturbing the drawing-room
+blinds or leaving the front door open from morning till night,--a
+Friendship custom which did not recommend itself to the housekeeper. A
+high cart and a swift-footed mare made their appearance, and Rosalind was
+often her uncle's companion on his visits to the farms belonging to the
+estate.
+
+Allan was continually expecting his interest in Friendship to languish,
+but it did not, and after a few weeks he gave up all thought of the
+western trip.
+
+The middle of July saw Genevieve on her way to the North, and a little
+later Miss Herbert went home on a holiday. After their departure peace
+settled down upon the house behind the griffins.
+
+The Arden Foresters found the summer days none too long. They still met
+Celia in the arbor now and then; and it was her stories of the Gilpin
+house, of the ring and the spinet, together with the constant sight of the
+closed shutters and doors, that led to an adventure one warm August day.
+
+"Important meeting at the oak tree this afternoon,--a discovery!" was the
+startling announcement Rosalind found within the grass-tied missive on the
+cedar when she returned from a drive with her uncle one morning. She could
+hardly eat her luncheon for eagerness to know what the discovery might
+be, and the sound of Maurice's low whistle further upset her.
+
+Mrs. Whittredge was rigid where table manners were concerned. Rosalind
+might not be excused until every one had finished; and to-day Uncle Allan
+dallied over his dessert, discussing business and the new mills with his
+mother, while Rosalind's impatience grew.
+
+She looked up despairingly at the stern countenance of Great-uncle Allan,
+and then at the placid smile of his Matilda, which seemed a rebuke to her
+restlessness. "I wonder what you did with your satin dress?" she suddenly
+remarked aloud.
+
+Grandmamma turned toward her in surprise, and Allan, deep in a description
+of the manufacture of a new kind of paper, looked at her blankly.
+
+"Do you think it is polite to interrupt?" asked Mrs. Whittredge.
+
+"I beg your pardon, Uncle Allan, I was just thinking. I did not mean to
+say it out loud," Rosalind explained, in great contrition.
+
+"Evidently you were not interested in my learned discourse," he said,
+with a terrible frown, which was not at all alarming.
+
+The diversion, however, caused him to remember his pudding, and in a few
+minutes Rosalind was free to join Maurice and Katherine at the gate.
+
+Belle, who had called the meeting, was waiting for them at the top of the
+hill.
+
+"I thought you were never coming," she cried; "we have made such a
+discovery!" And as they walked toward the house she explained that her
+mother had sent her that morning with a message to Miss Celia, and not
+finding her at home, she and Jack, who was with her, went over to the
+Gilpin place to wait. As they wandered about the grounds, something put it
+into Jack's head to try one of the cobwebby cellar windows, and lo! it
+opened. Poking their heads in, they saw it was over a stairway, which
+could be easily reached by walking a few feet on a ledge of stone.
+Delighted with the discovery, they scrambled in, and making their way up
+the steps found the door at the top unbolted.
+
+"Jack opened it and peeped into the hall, and then we were as scared as
+anything, and ran, and oh! we had such a time getting out. Now, what do
+you think of it? We can look for the ring really!" Belle paused, out of
+breath.
+
+"What fun!" cried Rosalind.
+
+"Just what we have been wishing for," added Maurice. "I have been trying
+to think how we could get in."
+
+Katherine was the only one who was not enthusiastic over the adventure.
+She hung back a little and wanted to know what Belle had been afraid of.
+
+"Oh, I don't know. It was so dark, and mysterious, and creepy; but it was
+such fun!"
+
+"We shan't mind if we are all together," said Rosalind, reassuringly.
+"We'll pretend we are storming a castle to rescue somebody."
+
+If it occurred to any of them that it might not be exactly right to break
+into a closed house in this fashion, the idea was quickly dismissed.
+
+Jack was watching for them, sprawled at his ease on the grass by the
+window. He was rather proud of having been the discoverer of it.
+
+In the heart of the country it could hardly have been quieter than it was
+in the Gilpin grounds that afternoon. Now and then some vehicle could be
+heard going up or down the hill, or the whistle of a canal-boat broke in
+upon the drowsy droning hum that was part of the summer stillness. There
+was no one to interfere. Even if Celia brought her work to the arbor, it
+was on the other side of the house, out of sight and hearing.
+
+The first obstacle the expedition encountered was the impossibility of
+Maurice's getting through to the stairway with his crutch. It was plain
+that it was out of the question, yet it was terribly hard to give up.
+There was a spice of daring in the adventure that appealed to him. For a
+moment he had a most uncomfortable sensation in his throat; and the old
+pettishness returned as he thundered at Katherine, in response to her
+reiterated, "You mustn't do it, Maurice," "I wish you'd hush. I know what
+I can do!"
+
+"We are dreadfully sorry, Maurice, but you can keep watch and give the
+alarm if any one comes," said Belle.
+
+Rosalind's oak leaf, as she stood before him, recalled him, and suggested
+that here was a hard thing to be bravely borne.
+
+"Go on," he said; "I'll wait for you here. I don't mind." His tone was
+almost cheerful. His ill temper came near getting the better of him
+however, when Katherine insisted upon staying too. Katherine couldn't
+understand that people sometimes did not want to be pitied; and she was
+not very anxious, if the truth were known, to join the exploring party.
+
+There was no way of escape for her. The others were too urgent, and
+Maurice did not want her.
+
+"There is an imprisoned maiden in the tower, and we are going to rescue
+her." As she spoke Rosalind pointed to the garret window.
+
+"What fun! Come on," cried Belle.
+
+Jack had already wriggled in.
+
+"It is rather dusty, isn't it?" Rosalind peeped in at the cobwebs
+doubtfully, but the thought of the imprisoned maiden overcame her dislike
+to dust. "Her name is Patricia," she paused on the sill to say.
+
+"And we are going to release her and restore her ring, which a wicked
+magician has turned into lead," added Belle, with sudden inspiration.
+
+"Why, Belle, I never thought of that. Perhaps it is the reason nobody can
+find it," laughed Rosalind, taking one step on the ledge and giving a
+little shriek of dismay.
+
+"You won't fall. Give me your hand," commanded Jack, with masculine
+confidence.
+
+The damp gloom of the cellar was rather frightful after the bright
+sunshine outside. No wonder Katherine crowded close to Belle and their
+voices sank to awed whispers. It was a relief to step out into the hall
+above, where the fanlight over the door made it seem less grewsome. The
+dust lay thick on the Chippendale table and chairs, and from its corner
+the tall clock looked down on them solemn and voiceless. There was no
+denying that it was scary, as Belle expressed it. What light there was
+seemed unreal, and the closed rooms when they peeped in were cheerless and
+ghostly.
+
+They stole about on tiptoe, keeping close together and talking in low
+tones. The library, where old Mr. Gilpin had been found unconscious and
+where the ring had last been seen, was the most ghostly of all. Belle
+paused on the threshold.
+
+"Let's go upstairs," she suggested. As she spoke she saw on the floor at
+her feet a ring of some dull metal, such as is used on light curtain-rods,
+but under the circumstances there was something a little startling in its
+being there.
+
+Jack seized it, "Here is Patricia's ring!" he cried.
+
+"Oh, Jack, hush!" whispered Belle, as his voice woke a hundred lonely
+echoes.
+
+"I'll tell you; let's take it to the magician--our magician--and ask him
+to break the spell," said Rosalind.
+
+"Oh, I wish you wouldn't talk so," entreated Katherine. "It makes me feel
+as if it were true."
+
+It was plain that nobody wished to be last on the way upstairs, nor was
+the post of leader very ardently desired, so they settled it by crowding
+up four abreast. In the rooms above they breathed more freely, and grew
+bolder as they wandered about, recognizing things Celia had described.
+
+"Do come here," called Belle, from a small room, hardly more than a
+closet, which opened from one of the bed chambers, "and see this funny
+picture."
+
+There was one window in this room, and the outside shutters had round
+openings near the top through which the light came. The others looked at
+the print, and then Rosalind returned to a work-table that pleased her
+fancy, Katherine following her. As Belle lingered, Jack, in a spirit of
+mischief, suddenly pulled the door to.
+
+"Jack! Jack! please let me out," she cried.
+
+"Why don't you come out, goosie?"
+
+"You have locked the door. Please, Jack!"
+
+"It isn't locked," Jack insisted, but when he tried to open it he found
+the knob immovable.
+
+"Maybe it is a dead latch," suggested Rosalind. "He is trying, Belle,
+really."
+
+"Are you sure you can't open it from the inside?" Jack asked anxiously.
+
+"Yes. I can turn the key both ways, but something holds the knob." Belle's
+voice was tremulous.
+
+"I am dreadfully sorry. What shall we do?" asked Jack, meekly, turning to
+Rosalind, after their efforts had proved fruitless.
+
+"Couldn't we open a window and call to Maurice? He would go for some one."
+
+Jack acted upon this and opened a shutter of the hall window, but when he
+looked out no Maurice was to be seen, nor was there any response to his
+whistle.
+
+"I'll have to go myself," he said, "unless you'd rather go."
+
+"No, Katherine and I will stay with Belle while you go," Rosalind
+answered, adding, "Jack, I think Morgan is working at the Fairs'. He could
+get the door open, I am sure."
+
+"All right," said Jack, but as he turned to go Katherine began to cry. "I
+am afraid to stay here," she sobbed, quite beside herself with terror.
+
+"Oh! what are you going to do?" came in a wail from the other side of the
+door.
+
+Rosalind and Jack looked at each other. "Take her with you; I don't
+mind--much," she said.
+
+Jack was disposed to argue with Katherine. "There is nothing to be afraid
+of. You ought to stay with Rosalind," he urged, but Katherine was beyond
+reasoning with her fears.
+
+"Never mind, if you hurry it won't be long, Belle and I can talk through
+the keyhole."
+
+Very reluctantly Jack left her, accompanied by the tearful Katherine.
+
+"Belle, you aren't afraid?" asked Rosalind, softly, as the sound of
+retreating steps grew faint.
+
+"Not v-ery," whispered Belle. "But you don't know how queer those holes in
+the shutters look--like big round eyes staring at me. I have tried to open
+them but I can't."
+
+"Belle, it is funny, isn't it, that there is an imprisoned maiden after
+all?"
+
+"Oh, Rosalind, I know how it feels now. It is awful!"
+
+"I think I know a little about it too," said Rosalind, sure that it was
+almost as bad to have that lonely, echoing house behind her as to be
+locked in. "Did you remember your oak leaf?" she asked.
+
+"Yes, and I am not going to cry. Rosalind, we might have let Maurice in at
+the door. Wasn't it stupid of us?"
+
+"Why, Belle! of course we might."
+
+Katherine and Jack meanwhile had made their way out, the latter requiring
+a good deal of help, for getting in was easier than getting out. Jack was
+very indignant with her for not staying with Rosalind, and treated her
+with a cold disdain most trying.
+
+As soon as she was in the open air, Katherine bitterly repented of her
+cowardice. She followed Jack meekly as he strode across the grass toward
+the Fairs', utterly ignoring her.
+
+A sound of voices came from the summer-house, and Jack looked in to
+discover Maurice talking to Miss Celia. He briefly explained the trouble,
+adding, "If Morgan is at your house, Miss Celia, I'll go for him."
+
+"I think you will find him. But what a thing for you children to do!"
+Celia exclaimed, "Who stayed with Belle?"
+
+"Rosalind. Katherine was afraid."
+
+Katherine, who lingered outside, shrunk back as he said this. Her tears
+began afresh. They all thought her a coward. She didn't want Miss Celia or
+Maurice to see her. She turned and ran away.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER NINETEENTH.
+
+OLD ACQUAINTANCE.
+
+"And there begins my sadness."
+
+
+Allan Whittredge, strolling up the hill toward the Gilpin place late in
+the afternoon, became aware of a dejected figure approaching, which
+presently resolved itself into Katherine Roberts, who paused every few
+minutes to press her handkerchief to her eyes.
+
+"Why, Katherine, what is the trouble?" he asked, when he reached her side.
+
+She stood still, not answering, and with her eyes covered. No one was in
+sight up or down the street. Allan drew her toward a convenient carriage
+block and, sitting beside her, asked his question again. His manner was
+winning, and Katherine, in great need of sympathy, sobbed, "They won't
+like me any more."
+
+"Who won't?"
+
+"Jack or Rosalind, or any of them," came in quivering tones.
+
+"Why, what have you done that is so terrible? I thought quarrels were
+unknown in the Forest."
+
+Katherine shook her head. "It wasn't a quarrel. I was afraid because it
+was dark,--and Jack said I was a coward. He told Maurice and Miss Celia
+so." The confession ended in more tears.
+
+Patiently Allan questioned and listened until he had a fairly clear idea
+of the situation. Then he spoke with cheerfulness.
+
+"You all ought to be dealt with for getting into such mischief," he said.
+"And now don't cry any more. Many a soldier has run away from his first
+battle-field. If I were you, I'd own up I had been a coward and say I was
+sorry. Do you want to come back with me, and see the end of this
+adventure?"
+
+Greatly comforted, Katherine dried her eyes and decided to go with Mr.
+Whittredge. Jack might not be so hard on her when he saw her under such
+protection.
+
+By this time Jack had found Morgan and brought him to the Gilpin house,
+where Celia and Maurice were waiting; and at Celia's suggestion he went
+in and opened the side door, thus making entrance easy for the others.
+
+"How silly not to have thought of letting Maurice in this way before," he
+exclaimed.
+
+The old house, a moment before so ghostly, now rang with the sound of
+voices as Rosalind, leaning over the stair rail, joyfully welcomed the
+rescuers.
+
+The magician had some tools with him, but be seemed puzzled at first as to
+what the trouble could be, when Celia said, "I know what the matter is.
+Belle, isn't there a little catch at the side of the lock that moves up
+and down? Try."
+
+"Yes," answered Belle, after a moment's investigation.
+
+"Then push it up," said Celia, but before the words were out of her mouth
+Belle had the door open and was being as warmly welcomed by Rosalind as if
+they had been separated for years instead of minutes.
+
+Belle was really pale from the trying experience, and had to wink rapidly
+to keep the tears of relief out of her eyes, while Celia explained the
+accident.
+
+"You see, when Jack banged the door the catch fell and kept the knob from
+turning. We have one that has given us a good deal of trouble." Then she
+put her arm around Belle and reminded her that the way of transgressors is
+hard.
+
+"But I wasn't doing anything wrong," replied Belle.
+
+"Everything came true, Maurice," Rosalind said merrily. "First Belle found
+a ring, and then the imprisoned maiden was rescued; but her name wasn't
+Patricia, after all."
+
+"I don't believe she wants to play the part again," said Celia.
+
+"Indeed, I don't," answered Belle. "Here is the enchanted ring, Rosalind.
+Ask the magician to break the spell."
+
+"What children you are!" Celia laughed, and her face was full of
+brightness as she descended the stairs with Belle beside her, the others
+following. Three steps from the bottom she came face to face with Allan
+Whittredge and Katherine.
+
+Celia hated herself for her burning cheeks as she bowed gravely. One hand
+held her work big, the other was on Belle's shoulder; and if, us for a
+fleeting instant she thought, Allan was about to hold out his hand, he
+changed his mind. His manner was calmly, unconcernedly polite as he spoke
+her name.
+
+"Uncle Allan, what are you doing here?" called Rosalind.
+
+Under the chorus of greetings and explanations Celia slipped away. Her
+thoughts were in a tumult as she hurried across the grounds to her own
+home.
+
+Her mother was on the porch with a caller, and Celia took her seat there
+and went on with her sewing. The visitor remarked on her improved color,
+and Mrs. Fair looked at her daughter in some perplexity, Celia had been so
+pale of late.
+
+All the evening she worked with feverish energy, writing labels for fruit
+jars and pasting them on, until no shadow of an excuse remained for not
+going to bed.
+
+When at length she went to her room, it was to sit at the open window
+gazing blankly out into the darkness. She had been telling herself
+fiercely how silly and weak she was, but she had not succeeded in
+conquering her unhappiness. Now she resisted no longer.
+
+She had not met Allan Whittredge face to face before for six years,
+although since his father's death he had been frequently in Friendship.
+She had known it must happen sometime, and had schooled herself to think
+it would mean nothing to her, but instead it had brought back a host of
+vain regrets.
+
+She had been happier of late. Association with those light-hearted
+children had brought back something of her old hopefulness. That a chance
+meeting with Allan Whittredge could change all this, humiliated her.
+
+"You haven't any pride, Celia Fair. It was your own doing."
+
+"I had to do it; it was forced on me."
+
+"And a fortunate thing it was. Do you suppose he would care now? These
+years which he has spent out in the world--what have they done for you?
+They have turned a happy-hearted girl into a bitter, disappointed woman."
+So she argued with herself.
+
+Resting her head on the sill, she let her thoughts go where they would.
+
+"You are sure you won't forget, Celia? It is going to be a long time,"
+Allan had said. She was still a schoolgirl, and he just through college,
+and no one but her father knew about it. Dr. Fair had shaken his head, but
+he loved Allan almost as much as he loved Celia. Allan must do as his
+mother wished and go abroad. Time would show of what stuff their love was
+made, he said.
+
+She had been so happy. She had been glad no one knew. Her happiness was
+all her own.
+
+Then had come Judge Whittredge's illness, the trouble about the Gilpin
+will, and the cruel slander that had crushed her father. The brief letter
+with which she returned Allan's letters and ring, was the result of her
+bitter resentment and grief. In her sorrow over her father's death she
+told herself her love was dead, and for a time she believed it. Now she
+knew it was not so.
+
+"At least, I will be honest with myself. I do care. Perhaps I shall always
+care. Oh, it is cruel to come so near happiness and miss it. But it is
+something to have come near it.
+
+"O God, help me--" she prayed, "not to choose the desert way. I do not
+want to be bitter and hard."
+
+As she lay back in her chair, too weary to think; through her mind floated
+Rosalind's words, "Things always come right in the Forest."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was after dinner. The sun had set, leaving the sky full of opal tints.
+The delicate leaves of the white birch barely moved, so still was the air.
+The whir of the last locust had died away, and the soft splash of the
+fountain was the only sound, as Rosalind in her white dress flitted past
+the griffins and joined her uncle on the garden bench. He welcomed her
+with a smile, and smoked on in silence. They were too good comrades to
+need to talk.
+
+After a while Rosalind spoke: "Uncle Allan, do you know Miss Celia Fair?"
+
+"I used to."
+
+Silence again.
+
+"I like her very much. I think she is sweet, and she bears hard things
+bravely. Belle says, since her father died they haven't any money, so Miss
+Celia works, and the boys are troublesome, and her mother is ill a great
+deal."
+
+Another silence.
+
+"Uncle Allan, was it any harm for me to know her? Belle said there was a
+quarrel, and Aunt Genevieve said, 'We have nothing to do with the Fairs.'"
+
+As he flicked the ash from his cigar, Allan smiled at Rosalind's
+unconscious imitation of Genevieve's tone.
+
+"I see no reason why you should take up other people's quarrels," he said
+gravely.
+
+Then Rosalind told him of her first meeting with Celia, and the incident
+of the rose. "But I think now I must have been mistaken," she added.
+
+"Perhaps," said Allan, and again he smiled to himself in the twilight, so
+vividly did the story recall the occasional passionate outbursts of the
+child Celia, usually so gentle, so timidly reserved.
+
+That strange letter of hers had puzzled while it hurt. Far away from the
+scene of the trouble, he could not understand the bitterness of the
+strife. That for a village quarrel--some unkind words, perhaps--she could
+break the bond between them--was this the Celia he thought he knew so
+well?
+
+The wound had rankled, but after a time he told himself it was for the
+best. Travel and study had broadened and matured him, and he could smile
+now as he recognized, what was unsuspected at the time, that his mother
+had planned these years of absence in the determination to cure him of a
+boyish fancy which her eyes had been keen enough to detect.
+
+And yet--his thought would dwell upon her as she stood on the step, her
+arm around Belle, the laughter fading from her face. Not the little
+schoolgirl, but a woman, gracious and tender.
+
+Rosalind danced away to join Maurice and Katherine, whose humble penitence
+had restored her to favor; and over the hedge came the sound of their
+voices singing an old tune. On the still night air, in their clear treble,
+the words carried distinctly:--
+
+    "Should auld acquaintance be forgot?"--
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWENTIETH.
+
+THE SPINET.
+
+"Thou art not for the fashion of these times."
+
+
+"Where are you going to put it, Celia?" asked Mrs. Fair.
+
+"In Saint Cecilia's room, I suppose," her daughter replied. Her father had
+given this name to the sitting room which was her own special property,
+and in which she would have nothing that was not associated in some way
+with her great-grandmother.
+
+"I don't believe you ever enter it now," Mrs. Fair continued
+discontentedly.
+
+"The spinet won't mind that; it is used to being alone," Celia answered
+cheerfully, standing before the mirror, fastening an oak leaf on her
+dress. It reminded her that even if her heart was heavy and her life full
+of difficulties, she could still be courageous.
+
+"Things are sure to come right in the Forest," she had said to herself
+again and again. Not because she believed it, but because she longed to,
+and sometimes she did believe it,--just for a little while,--as she looked
+from Patricia's Arbor across to that bit of sunny road.
+
+Since the adventure of the Arden Foresters the cellar windows of the
+Gilpin house had been securely fastened, and its bolts and bars made proof
+against more experienced house breakers than they. And now preparations
+for the sale became evident. Circulars containing an inventory of the
+things to be disposed of were spread abroad, and it was known that the
+proprietor of the new mills, a stranger in Friendship, had been through
+the house with the idea of purchasing.
+
+As she unlocked the door of Saint Cecilia's room, Celia could not help
+remembering the days when she had looked forward so happily to owning the
+spinet, and seeing it stand beneath her great-grandmother's portrait.
+
+From the cushioned window-seat, where there was a glimpse of the river
+through the trees, she had loved to survey the calm orderliness of the
+little room. At heart something of a Puritan, the straight-backed chairs
+and unreposeful sofa, the secretary with its diamond-paned doors and glass
+knobs, the quaint old jardinières brought from China a century ago,
+pleased her fancy.
+
+How Genevieve Whittredge had smiled and shrugged her shoulders! In those
+days their half antagonistic friendship had not suffered a complete break.
+She must have color and warmth and lavishness, and Celia acknowledged her
+unerring taste and admired the beauty and richness Genevieve found
+necessary to her happiness, even while she returned contentedly to her own
+prim little room.
+
+It had been her dreaming place, and when dreams were crowded out by an
+exacting present, she had closed the door and turned the key. It was so
+much the less to take care of.
+
+"I don't see why Mr. Gilpin couldn't have left you some money," her mother
+said, following her. "It would be such a help just now. How are we to keep
+Tom at the university another year?"
+
+Mrs. Fair had a way of bringing up problems just when her daughter had
+succeeded in putting them aside.
+
+"I think we can manage in some way, mother. Don't worry," she said.
+
+"But some one has to worry."
+
+"Then let me do it," Celia answered, smiling.
+
+Half an hour later she was standing by the spinet, absently touching the
+tuneless keys, when a voice from the window startled her. It was Morgan,
+who with his elbows on the sill, was looking in.
+
+"Better sell it, Miss Celia."
+
+Sell it! The idea had never occurred to her. "What could I get for it?"
+she asked, going to the window.
+
+"Two hundred--maybe more."
+
+Two hundred dollars would be a great help toward Tom's expenses, but to
+give up her grandmother's spinet? It took on a new value.
+
+"Let me have it to do over and I guarantee you two hundred dollars," said
+Morgan.
+
+"I'll think of it and let you know," was Celia's answer.
+
+"It seems like the irony of fate," she told herself, "to have to sell it
+almost before it is really mine; and yet when two hundred dollars lie
+within my reach, I can't refuse to take them. Poor old spinet, it is too
+bad to send you away. I shouldn't do it if I could help it; but you don't
+fit in with these times. Or rather, you are helping me out; that is the
+way to look at it."
+
+So it was that the spinet did not long keep company with the portrait of
+Saint Cecilia, its original owner, but was harked away to the shop of the
+magician and the society of the clock case and the claw-footed sofa.
+
+Here Allan Whittredge saw and recognized it one day, and questioned
+Morgan. Allan remembered the prim little sitting room, and how Celia had
+looked forward to owning the spinet, and it troubled him to think she was
+compelled to part with it. When he left the shop he went over to Miss
+Betty's.
+
+After talking for a while about other things, he asked, "Betty, is it true
+that Dr. Fair left his family with very little?"
+
+"True? Of course it is. Have you just found that out? Celia is working her
+fingers to the bone, and I wish I were sure those boys are worth it," was
+her reply.
+
+"How did it happen?"
+
+"Well, I don't think Dr. Fair had the best judgment in the world when it
+came to investments; at the same time, a lot of other people lost in the
+West View coal mines. His death was a great shock; I loved Dr. Fair."
+
+"I too," said Allan. "He was a good man."
+
+"I don't know whether you know it, Allan. Perhaps I ought not to tell you;
+but there was some talk of Dr. Fair's treatment having done your father
+harm. I really believe your mother was out of her mind with anxiety, and
+you know she disliked the doctor. He was dismissed, you remember; and this
+was whispered about and exaggerated until I think it almost broke his
+heart. Of course there was no truth in it--that was made clear in the
+end--and his death put a stop to the talk, for everybody loved and
+respected Dr. Fair; but it has been terribly hard on Celia."
+
+Allan sat looking at Miss Betty absently. "Terribly hard on Celia,"--the
+words repeated themselves over and over in his mind.
+
+"This is the first I ever heard of it," he said at length.
+
+Miss Betty watched him as he walked away. "As usual I have been minding
+some one else's business," she said to herself; "but he ought to know it.
+Allan is a fine fellow."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWENTY-FIRST.
+
+UNDER THE GREENWOOD TREE.
+
+"Must you then be proud and pitiless?"
+
+
+The book containing the constitution of the Arden Foresters lay on the
+garden bench. The Foresters themselves were spending the afternoon at the
+creek at the foot of Red Hill. All was quiet in the neighborhood. The bank
+doors had closed two hours ago, and Friendship seemed to have retired for
+its afternoon nap.
+
+Allan Whittredge unfolded the _County News_ and glanced over it, then laid
+it on his knee and gazed across the lawn with a thoughtful frown. The
+_County News_ presented no problems, but life in this quiet village of
+Friendship did. His talk with Miss Betty had brought him face to face with
+them. He was conscious now that his attitude had been one of complacent
+superiority. He had held himself above the pettiness of village life only
+to discover, as he admitted frankly, that he had been a conceited fool.
+
+His own indignation helped him to realize something of what Celia must
+have felt at the cruel affront to her father. And his silence all this
+while made him seem a party to it. It was an intolerable thought, but
+Allan was not one to brood over difficulties; a gleam of what Miss Betty
+called the Barnwell stubbornness shone in his eyes as he made an inward
+vow to find some way to convince Celia of his ignorance of much which had
+happened at the time of his father's death, and to gain from his mother an
+admission of her mistake. The question how to accomplish this, filled him
+with a helpless impatience.
+
+He took up the book that lay beside him and opened it. "The secret of the
+Forest: Good in everything," he read. "To remember the secret of the
+Forest, to bear hard things bravely--" He turned the leaves and saw under
+Morgan's straggling characters the once familiar writing of Celia
+Fair,--the firm, delicate backhand, so suggestive, to one who knew her, of
+the determination that lay beneath her gentleness. Did Celia believe there
+was good in everything? Surely not in all this trouble. Yet she was
+bearing hard things bravely, if all he heard were true. It hurt him to
+think of her carrying a load of responsibility and care. His own life
+seemed tame from its very lack of care.
+
+He closed the book with decision. His task was to unravel these twisted
+threads of hatred and misunderstanding, and he would do it.
+
+Meanwhile, he found time for other things. He began to cultivate the
+society of the Arden Foresters, and to be a boy again in earnest.
+
+Boating on the picturesque little river was one of the pleasures of
+Friendship. Jack Parton and his brothers owned a boat, the _Mermaid_; and
+Allan now provided himself with one, which he delighted Rosalind by naming
+for her. After this the _Mermaid_ and the _Rosalind_ might frequently be
+seen following the narrow stream in its winding course, making their way
+among water lilies and yellow and purple spatter-dock, between banks
+fringed with willows and wild oats and here and there a dump of cat-tails.
+What pleasanter way than this of spending the early summer mornings? And
+then to find some shady anchorage, where lunch could be eaten and the
+hours fleeted away merrily until the cool of the afternoon.
+
+With only three in each boat, it was light work for the oarsman; and as
+rowing was something Maurice could do, and as the girls liked to take
+their turn, it often happened that Mr. Whittredge had nothing to do but
+enjoy himself.
+
+Allan smiled sometimes to think how much pleasure he found in the society
+of these young people. He usually carried a book or magazine, but as often
+as not it was unopened.
+
+"I suppose the real Arden Foresters did not read books," he remarked one
+day as, after glancing through the pages of a late novel, he tossed it
+disrespectfully into the empty lunch basket.
+
+They had eaten their picnic dinner and were resting in easy attitudes on
+the grass,--Miss Betty not being present to mention spines,--in sight of
+their boats, swinging gently at anchor.
+
+"Not any?" exclaimed Rosalind, to whom the idea of no books was a dreadful
+one.
+
+"But they were in a story and were having lots of fun," said Belle.
+
+"And they found their books in brooks, didn't they?" added Maurice.
+
+"When you are having fun, you don't read so much, that is true," Rosalind
+said, burying her hands in the mass of clover blooms Katherine tossed into
+her lap. "We'll make a long, long chain, Katherine, and let it trail
+behind us as we go home."
+
+"Give me your experience," said Allan, stretched at lazy length, with his
+arms under his head. "Have you found that there is good in things
+invariably?"
+
+"I like Mr. Allan because he talks to us as if we were grown up," Belle
+whispered to Rosalind.
+
+"There is more than you would think, till you try." Maurice answered.
+
+"I think so. Uncle Allan," said Rosalind. "I shouldn't have had this good
+time and learned to know all of you, if father had not gone with Cousin
+Louis. He said if I stayed in the Forest of Arden, I was sure to meet
+pleasant people, and I have." Rosalind looked at her companions with a
+soft light in her gray eyes.
+
+"If it were not for you, we shouldn't be having half so much fun," said
+Belle, promptly.
+
+"I think you would always have a good time, Belle," answered Rosalind;
+"but I'm afraid if I hadn't come to know all of you, I couldn't have
+stayed in the Forest much longer, though the magician did cheer me up."
+
+"Then the idea is, that it is only when you stay in the Forest that you
+find the good in things?" said Allan.
+
+"That was the way in the story. Everything came right in the Forest,"
+Rosalind answered.
+
+"I believe," said Allan, "I should like to be an Arden Forester."
+
+This announcement was received with enthusiasm.
+
+"That is, if I understand it. 'To remember the Forest secret, to bear hard
+things bravely--'"
+
+"And if you are an honorary member, like Miss Celia and Morgan, you won't
+have to search for the ring," put in Belle.
+
+"The ring is found, and is waiting till the magician breaks the spell. You
+know, Uncle Allan, he has hung it on a nail in his shop, by the door, just
+as if he were trying really," Rosalind explained.
+
+"I think I shall ask to be taken on probation," Mr. Whittredge continued.
+
+"What's that?" asked Jack.
+
+"On trial. I might not do you credit, you know."
+
+The Arden Foresters refused to admit the possibility of this, and Belle
+and Rosalind began delightedly to enumerate their members.
+
+They rowed homeward slowly, for it was up stream, and as they went they
+unwound the clover chain, and let it trail far behind them until it caught
+among the reeds and was broken.
+
+When they passed the Gilpin place, on their way from the landing, a stop
+was made for a fresh supply of oak leaves from their favorite tree, and
+Rosalind pinned one on her uncle's coat.
+
+"I invite the Arden Foresters to meet with me to-morrow under the
+greenwood tree," said Mr. Whittredge, surveying his badge.
+
+"That's poetry, go on," said Jack.
+
+"I'll have to fall back into prose to finish. At the foot of Red Hill, at
+half-past seven P.M."
+
+"What tree does he mean?" asked Katherine.
+
+"Under the greenwood tree is a poetical figure," Mr. Whittredge explained.
+
+"It will be dark at half-past seven," said Jack.
+
+"Of course it will be, and that's going to be the fun," cried Belle.
+
+"There will be a moon," added Maurice, who was wise in such matters.
+
+"And what are we to do there?" asked Rosalind.
+
+"That remains to be seen," was all the satisfaction her uncle would give
+her.
+
+Anticipation was the order of the next day, and the hours of the afternoon
+rather dragged. At dinner Rosalind could not keep her eyes from the clock,
+while her uncle ate in his usual leisurely manner, smiling at her
+quizzically now and then.
+
+"It will not take more than twenty minutes to walk out," he remarked, at
+length, when the hands pointed to seven o'clock.
+
+Mrs. Whittredge looked inquiring.
+
+"We are to have a little moonlight party at the creek to-night. We shall
+not be late, Rosalind and I," Allan added.
+
+"You are making a new departure, are you not? A picnic yesterday, another
+to-night. You are really falling into the ways of Friendship."
+
+"I am only beginning again where I left off years ago, Rosalind is showing
+me how," Allan smiled across the table, this time a smile of
+good-fellowship.
+
+The August nights were cool, and Rosalind carried her cape with its
+pointed hood, when, the long ten minutes having passed, they set out.
+Maurice and Katherine were watching for them, and farther down the street
+the Partons joined them.
+
+Under the trees that grew so thick, it was already dim twilight, but when
+they reached the more open country react there was still a glow in the
+sky, and over Red Hill floated the golden moon, attended by a single star.
+On the little sandy beach beneath the bridge, where the water rippled so
+pleasantly over the stones, a fire was burning, and before it on a log,
+with Curly Q. by his side, sat the magician, whittling.
+
+"Is this the party? How lovely! What fun!" they cried, running down to
+join Morgan and be received by Curly Q. with ecstatic barks.
+
+The magician was evidently expecting them, for he at once began
+distributing pointed sticks.
+
+"What are they for?" asked Belle.
+
+This was soon explained. Mr. Whittredge produced a tin box from somewhere
+and proceeded to open it, and Katherine, who was next him, said,
+"Marshmallows."
+
+"Yes, this is a marshmallow roast," he replied; and fixing one of the
+white drops on the pointed stick, he held it toward the glowing embers.
+
+The others followed his lead without loss of time,--the magician and all;
+and Curly Q. sat erect and eager, giving an occasional muffled "woof" to
+remind them that he liked marshmallows too.
+
+The rose tints faded from the sky; the moon sailed higher; and the glow of
+the fire grew deeper. The Arden Foresters toasted and talked, and ate
+their marshmallows, not forgetting Curly Q., and were as merry as the
+crickets that chirped around them,--as merry, at least, as those insects
+are said to be.
+
+When it was really impossible to eat another one, they built up the fire
+for the pleasure of watching it, and sang songs and told stories, the
+magician, with his elbows on his knees, looking from one to another and
+laughing as if he understood all the fun.
+
+The glow of their fire and the sound of their voices could be seen and
+heard far up on Red Hill; so Celia Fair told them, emerging suddenly out
+of the darkness into the firelight. In her white dress, with something
+fleecy about her head and shoulders, she suggested a piece of thistledown.
+
+The children gave her a rapturous welcome and proffered marshmallows; the
+magician looked on smiling. Allan had gone in search of firewood. Celia
+had been up the hill to visit an old servant who was ill, and returning,
+with Bob for guard, had seen the fire and heard the voices.
+
+"At first I thought of gypsies, and then Rosalind's pointed hood suggested
+witches, and it was only when I reached the bridge that I recognized you,"
+she said; adding, "No, I can't stay. Bob is taking me home."
+
+"Do stay; I'll take you home, Miss Celia," said Jack, as Rosalind bestowed
+marshmallows on the grinning Bob.
+
+Celia hesitated, then turned, as if about to dismiss her escort, when
+Allan Whittredge stepped into the circle and cast an armful of wood on the
+fire. Celia retreated into the shadow. "I must go, dear," she whispered
+to Belle's urging.
+
+A chorus of protest followed her as she hurried up the bank. She had
+hardly reached the road when she heard her name spoken quietly, and
+turning, she faced Allan Whittredge in the moonlight.
+
+There was some hesitation in his manner as he said, "I can understand your
+wish to avoid me, and yet I am anxious to have a few moments' talk with
+you, now or at any time that may suit you." As he spoke, a sense of the
+absurdity of this formality between old playmates swept over him, almost
+bringing a smile to his lips.
+
+Celia spoke gently. "I think not. I mean I can imagine no reason for
+it--no good it could do."
+
+"But you can't judge of that until you know what I have to say. Something
+I did not understand has recently been made clear to me and--it is of that
+I wish to speak."
+
+"If it has anything to do with the--the difference between your family and
+mine, it is needless--useless. I cannot listen, I can only try to forget."
+On the last word Celia's voice broke a little.
+
+Allan took a step forward; "I do not think you have a right to refuse. You
+should grant me the privilege of defending myself against--"
+
+Celia interposed, "I have not accused you, Mr. Whittredge; there is no
+occasion for defence, I must say good night."
+
+Nothing could have been more final than her manner as she moved away
+toward Bob, who waited at a discreet distance. There was no uncertainty in
+her voice now, nor in the poise of her head.
+
+Allan stood in the road, looking after her retreating figure. He had
+bungled. If he had begun in the right way, she would have been compelled
+to listen. What could he do to obtain a hearing? After two years of
+silence he could not wonder at her refusal to listen to him now.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWENTY-SECOND.
+
+CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE.
+
+"I sometimes do believe and sometimes do not."
+
+
+"Belle!" called Mrs. Parton from the porch, addressing her daughter, who
+swung lazily to and fro in the hammock, her eyes on a book, "I can't find
+Jack, and I want you to take this money to Morgan. Your father reminded me
+of the bill just before he left, and I haven't thought of it from that day
+to this."
+
+"Oh, mother, can't--?"
+
+"Can't who? You know there isn't a soul to send but you, and I must have
+this off my mind. Manda is helping me with the sweet pickles, and Tilly
+has gone to camp-meeting."
+
+Belle rose reluctantly, tossed back her hair, and went in search of her
+hat.
+
+"Be sure now to get a receipt," Mrs. Parton said, as she gave the money
+into Belle's hands. "I am not afraid of Morgan, but the colonel is
+certain to accuse me of not paying it if I haven't a receipt to show
+him."
+
+Belle tucked her book under her arm and walked off.
+
+"Now, Belle," protested her mother, "why can't you leave that book at
+home? Don't let me hear of your reading as you go along the street."
+
+"I won't, but I like to carry it," answered Belle, patting it lovingly.
+She was deeply interested in the story, and begrudged the time it took to
+walk to the magician's. Once there, she decided she would stay awhile to
+rest and finish the chapter.
+
+The day was warm, and she strolled along in lazy fashion. The Whittredge
+house as she passed looked deserted. The front shutters were closed, and
+no one was to be seen. Rosalind had gone away with her uncle for a few
+days. Belle amused herself by imagining that Rosalind's having been there
+at all was a dream, and she succeeded in producing a bewildering sense of
+unreality in her own mind.
+
+Morgan was not in his shop, but that he had been there recently was
+evident, for his tools lay scattered about.
+
+After the heat of the street the shop was cool and inviting, and a corner
+of an old sofa offered itself as a desirable spot in which to continue the
+story. It stood against the wall, and with several other pieces of
+furniture before it, was a secluded as well as a comfortable
+resting-place. Belle settled herself to her liking and was at once lost in
+her book. She finished the chapter and read another, and was beginning a
+third when something aroused her. For a moment she couldn't remember where
+she was, then with a finger in her book she peeped around the clock case,
+which with a high-backed chair screened her corner.
+
+The magician stood in the middle of the room, with his back toward her,
+gazing intently at something in his hand. Belle was about to come out of
+her hiding-place when he stepped to the window, and holding the object up
+between his thumb and finger, let the sunlight fall upon it, laughing
+gleefully like a child over a toy.
+
+Belle drew back quickly. Was she dreaming still? She pinched herself. No,
+she was awake, and in the magician's shop, and the thing she had seen in
+his hand was nothing less than Patricia's ring! She had heard it
+described too often not to recognize it. But how came it in Morgan's
+possession? She sat still and thought.
+
+Meanwhile, after turning it over and over, and nodding and laughing to
+himself in a way that would have seemed rather crazy to one who did not
+know him, the magician disappeared into the back room, closing the door
+behind him. Belle seized the opportunity to steal from the shop. It would
+be easier to think out of doors.
+
+The little brown and white house across the lane was keeping itself
+to-day. Miss Betty had gone to the city, and Sophy was at camp-meeting, as
+Belle happened to know, so she went over and sat on the porch step beside
+a large hydrangea. She must decide what to do. She remembered very
+distinctly the circumstances connected with the disappearance of the ring.
+Morgan had been one of the last persons to speak to old Mr. Gilpin before
+the attack of heart failure that ended his life, but no one had dreamed of
+suspecting him. Could he have had it all this time?
+
+Belle felt ashamed of herself for the thought. If there was an honest
+person in the world, it was Morgan. She had heard her father talk of
+circumstantial evidence, and how easy it was to draw wrong conclusions.
+She was puzzled. One thing was certain, she had seen the ring in his hand.
+
+"Now, if he were really a magician, I might think he had broken the spell
+on the ring we found in the Gilpin house," she said to herself.
+
+She must go back and pay the bill; for if she did not, her mother would
+have to know the reason, and Belle was not sure it would be wise to tell
+her about the discovery. Mrs. Parton acknowledged frankly she couldn't
+keep a secret, and Belle was wise enough to see it wouldn't do to spread
+the news abroad.
+
+"I wish Rosalind was here," she thought.
+
+When at length she made up her mind to go back, the magician was at work
+and greeted her just as usual. Belle wondered if she had not dreamed it
+after all. While he went into the next room to make change and receipt the
+bill, she looked for the ring she and Rosalind had hung on a nail beside
+the door. It was gone. Had any one ever known such a perplexing state of
+affairs?
+
+The magician must have wondered what made the usually merry Belle so
+grave, for he asked if she was well as he gave her the bill.
+
+As she walked slowly homeward, she noticed a large, dignified gentleman
+coming toward her. He did not belong to Friendship, she knew, and she
+wondered a little who he might be. He looked down on her benevolently
+through his spectacles as he passed, and for a moment seemed about to
+speak. Belle quickly forgot him, however, for the ring occupied her
+thoughts to the exclusion of everything else. Even the story so
+fascinating an hour ago, had lost its charm.
+
+"Does your head ache?" her mother asked, seeing her sitting on the
+doorstep, her chin in her hand, her book unopened beside her.
+
+"No, mother; I am just thinking," was Belle's reply.
+
+She was trying to decide whom to tell. "I wish father was at home," she
+said to herself.
+
+She went to bed with the matter still undecided, and the first thing she
+thought of when she opened her eyes the next day was the ring. A
+conversation overheard between her mother and Manda, the cook, added to
+her uneasiness.
+
+"Miss Mary, did you know there was a 'tective loafin' round town?"
+
+"A detective? No, I did not. If there is, it won't make any difference to
+you and me," answered Mrs. Parton.
+
+"Maybe it don't make no difference to white folks, but looks like they's
+always 'spicioning niggers," continued Manda, with a shake of her head.
+"Tilly 'lows it's that thar ring of old Marse Gilpin's."
+
+"Hardly," said Mrs. Parton, with a laugh. Belle, remembering the stranger,
+wondered if it might not be true.
+
+Such talk among the servants of Friendship was nothing new. Since the
+first excitement over the disappearance of the ring, it had broken out
+periodically; but to Belle this morning it seemed a strange coincidence.
+Suppose some one else had seen the ring in Morgan's possession? And now it
+occurred to her to tell Miss Celia.
+
+On her way to the Fairs' she met the stranger again, this time in front of
+Mrs. Graham's school. He was looking about him with an air of interest,
+and as Belle approached he asked if this was not the Bishop residence.
+
+"It was," she answered, "but it is a school now."
+
+The gentleman thanked her and walked on.
+
+"I believe he is a detective," she said to herself.
+
+Celia was in her usual place in the arbor bending over a piece of
+embroidery, when Belle found her.
+
+"Miss Celia, I have the strangest thing to tell you," she began, and then
+unfolded her story.
+
+Celia listened in astonishment. "Why, Belle, it isn't possible--you don't
+think--"
+
+"Miss Celia, I don't know. I saw the ring, and I know Morgan isn't a
+thief, but I don't understand it."
+
+"No, indeed. Morgan, whom we have always known--who is honest as the day!"
+Celia was silent for a moment, then she said, "Belle, it seems to me the
+only thing for you to do is to tell Mr. Whittredge. The ring belongs to
+him; he will know what to do far better than we, and he will think of
+Morgan, too."
+
+"I would have told him, but he has gone away."
+
+"Gone?"
+
+Belle wondered a little at Miss Celia's tone; it was as if she cared a
+great deal.
+
+"I don't think he will be gone long. He took Rosalind with him," she
+added.
+
+"Then I should wait till his return. A few days more can't make much
+difference. You have been very wise not to mention it to any one."
+
+But when Belle told about the supposed detective, Celia laughed and said
+she had a vivid imagination, and that it was only a coincidence that the
+old rumors should be revived just now.
+
+As Belle went down the hill, feeling somewhat crestfallen and rather tired
+of the whole matter of the ring, she met Maurice and Jack. Jack had spent
+the night with Maurice, and now they were on their way to the landing to
+take some pictures with Maurice's new camera. They made no objection to
+her proposal to join them, so she turned back, feeling strongly tempted to
+tell her story to them; but she had agreed with Miss Celia that it was
+best not to talk about it until Mr. Whittredge's return, and Belle prided
+herself on her ability to keep a secret.
+
+The interest of deciding what view would make the best picture made her
+forget the ring for a while; but as they sat on the edge of the dock
+waiting to catch a sailboat about to start out, she suddenly said, "Boys,
+I believe I saw a detective this morning," and she described the stranger.
+
+"Why do you think he is a detective?" asked Maurice.
+
+"Well, you know they always wear spectacles and try to look like
+ministers," she answered confidently.
+
+"Pshaw! they have all sorts of disguises," said Jack.
+
+"I don't care, I'm sure he is one, and I think he is looking for the
+ring." Belle pursed up her lips as much as to say she might tell more.
+
+"You are trying to make us believe you know something," remarked Jack,
+with brotherly scorn.
+
+"I do. Something I can't tell for--well, for several days."
+
+"Who knows it beside you?" asked Maurice.
+
+"Just Miss Celia."
+
+If Miss Celia knew, it seemed worthy of more respect. "How did you find it
+out?" asked Jack.
+
+"I can't tell you. It is a mystery; but, boys, I want to keep an eye on
+that man and see what he does," Belle said impressively.
+
+"How about taking his picture?" suggested Maurice.
+
+"Just the thing!" Belle clapped her hands. "Let's go look for him now."
+
+Anything that promised some fun was hailed with delight. It had been a
+little dull in Rosalind's absence. When she was with them nobody was
+conscious of her leadership, but now she was away they were at a loss.
+
+They waylaid old Mr. Biddle, driving in from the country with a load of
+apples, and demanded a ride which he good-naturedly allowed them, and they
+drove down the hill in state. When they came within sight of the
+post-office, Belle clutched Maurice's arm. "There he is," she whispered.
+"Let's get out and wait for him. You have your camera ready."
+
+The obliging Mr. Biddle stopped his horse and let his passenger out. As
+for the stranger, if he had known what was wanted of him, he couldn't have
+been more accommodating. He came slowly down the steps of the post-office,
+and stood within a few yards of the doorway, where three giggling young
+persons had taken shelter. Maurice had time for half a dozen pictures if
+he wanted them.
+
+"He isn't a detective," whispered Jack, "I'll bet a dime he is a
+minister."
+
+"I said he looked like a minister," Belle retorted.
+
+"I am going to Burke's to get him to show me about developing," said
+Maurice, as the stranger moved away, "Wouldn't it be fun if we could have
+his picture to show Rosalind when she comes to-morrow?"
+
+"Is she coming to-morrow? Oh, I am glad!" said Belle.
+
+"Let's follow and see where he goes," Jack proposed, as Maurice left them;
+and Belle nothing loath, they dogged the steps of the supposed detective.
+She was both alarmed and triumphant when he was seen to turn into Church
+Lane, but all other emotions were swallowed up in surprise when, instead
+of crossing to the magician's shop, he entered Miss Betty Bishop's front
+gate.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWENTY-THIRD.
+
+THE DETECTIVE.
+
+"'Twas I, but 'tis not I."
+
+
+The next morning Belle and Jack awaited the 10.30 train, seated together
+on a trunk on the station platform. Celia saw them from the door of the
+express office across the road. Presently they recognized her and began to
+wave, and then Belle came flying over to tell her how they had taken the
+detective's picture and had afterward seen him enter Miss Betty's gate.
+
+"Why should a detective go to Miss Betty's?" Celia asked, much amused.
+
+"Why should he go if he wasn't a detective?" Belle demanded.
+
+"Why not? He may be an agent, or a friend," Celia suggested, laughing.
+
+A whistle in the distance left no time for argument. Belle flew back to
+the platform, where Maurice had joined Jack. Celia turned toward home.
+
+She was more perplexed over Belle's story about the ring than she cared to
+own. Not for a moment did she think Morgan had taken it; and yet he was
+getting to be an old man and she recalled something she had heard her
+father say about a certain brain disease that first showed itself in acts
+wholly out of keeping with the character of its victim. Could this be the
+explanation?
+
+It was a relief to know that it would soon be in Allan Whittredge's hands.
+That he would do the kindest, wisest thing, she never thought of doubting.
+
+She had heard with a sinking of heart that he had gone away, and she
+scorned herself for the sensation of relief when Belle added, it was only
+for a few days. Celia deeply regretted the way in which she had met his
+request to speak with her that night at Friendly Creek. Why could she not
+have listened quietly? In these days she was torn by conflicting feelings.
+The spirit of the Forest was slowly tempering the bitterness in her heart,
+but it sometimes seemed to her that her loyalty to her father was
+weakening.
+
+It was fortunate matters at home demanded her thoughts. Plans for the
+winter, getting the boys off to school, and the many small cares of the
+housekeeper left little time for brooding.
+
+At the station Belle, in her eagerness to be the first to greet Rosalind,
+had to be dragged back out of harm's way by the baggage master, as the
+long train swept around the curve.
+
+"You'll find yourself killed one of these days if you don't look out,"
+remarked Jack, descending from the trunk.
+
+But Belle gave small heed. "I am so glad you have come," she cried,
+seizing upon Rosalind almost before she had her foot on the ground. "Such
+lots of things have happened."
+
+"Aren't you glad to see me too?" asked Mr. Whittredge.
+
+"Yes, I am especially glad to see you, because I have something to tell
+you. Something I can't tell any one else."
+
+"Bless me! this is interesting. Just wait till I find my checks, and we'll
+walk up town together."
+
+Belle, however, was not destined to relate her story just then, for no
+sooner had they started out, she in front with Mr. Whittredge, and
+Rosalind and the boys following, than Mr. Molesworth joined them and began
+talking about the paper mills. There was nothing for her but to fall back
+with the others, and this was not without its compensation, for now she
+could have a share in telling Rosalind about the detective.
+
+"It's all nonsense. I don't believe he was a detective at all, but it was
+fun taking his picture," said Jack.
+
+"I'll have it to show you to-morrow," added Maurice.
+
+"Why don't you ask Cousin Betty who he is?" suggested Rosalind.
+
+Belle's deep sense of the mystery of things had kept her from thinking of
+this simple method of solving the problem.
+
+"Of course we might," she acknowledged.
+
+"I want to stop at Morgan's a moment," Allan looked back to say.
+
+At the magician's corner Mr. Molesworth left them; but as it was only a
+step to the shop, the secret still remained untold.
+
+Morgan seemed delighted beyond all reason at sight of them. He greeted
+Allan as if he had been away years instead of days; and tapping his own
+breast, he exclaimed, looking from one to another, "I am Morgan, the
+magician!" Then pointing to the nail where the children had hung the brass
+ring, he added, "I have broken the spell!" With this he disappeared for a
+moment into the back room, but he was with them again before they had
+recovered from their surprise at his strange manner; and now he held
+something in his hand which he waved aloft gleefully.
+
+Belle began to understand that all her anxiety had been needless.
+
+"What does this mean?" asked Allan, as Morgan put into his hand a little
+worn case.
+
+The children crowded around him as he opened it and disclosed the
+long-lost, much talked of sapphire ring. In his delight the cabinet-maker
+almost danced a jig, and continued to repeat, "I'm a magician."
+
+"It's found; it's found!" cried Rosalind.
+
+"And I knew it," said Belle.
+
+"Hello!" exclaimed Jack. "Was this your secret? Did Morgan tell you?"
+
+Belle tried to explain her discovery, but so great was the excitement
+nobody would listen. It was really beyond belief that Patricia's ring was
+actually in their hands. It was some time before they quieted down
+sufficiently to hear Morgan's story.
+
+He had begun work on the spinet several days ago, he said, and upon
+removing the top had noticed something wedged in under the strings, which
+upon investigation he found to be the case containing the ring.
+
+"But where is the other ring?" Rosalind asked.
+
+The magician laughed and said that was another story, and he told how the
+evening before the real ring was found, Crisscross had been seized with a
+fit of unusual playfulness, and jumping up on the chest, above which the
+ring hung, had begun to move it to and fro with his paw, presently
+knocking it off and sending it rolling across the floor. He darted after
+it under tables and chairs but apparently never found it; nor could the
+magician, although he searched carefully.
+
+"So the mystery is not ended yet. We do not know what became of the magic
+ring, nor how the real ring came to be in the spinet," Allan remarked.
+
+"It is exactly like a sure enough fairy tale," added Belle; and then she
+whispered her part of the story, turning her back to the magician, for
+fear he might see what she was talking about.
+
+"And how about the detective? Did you think he was coming to arrest
+Morgan?" asked Maurice.
+
+Belle looked a little shamefaced. "I didn't know," she said.
+
+Mr. Whittredge wanted to hear about the detective, and was much amused at
+her description of the taking of his picture.
+
+Rosalind as she listened held the ring in her hand--Patricia's ring. She
+had thought a great deal about Patricia, and this seemed to bring her near
+and make her more real--the young girl who had looked like Aunt Genevieve,
+only more kind.
+
+"Let's show the ring to Miss Betty! May we, Mr. Whittredge?" asked Belle.
+
+Allan did not appear enthusiastic over the suggestion, but he did not
+refuse, and followed the children at a distance as they raced across the
+street.
+
+"There's the detective now," cried Jack, at the gate.
+
+"Where?" the others asked breathlessly.
+
+"On the porch with Miss Betty."
+
+Sure enough, partially shielded from view by the vines, in one of Miss
+Betty's comfortable chairs, sat the stranger.
+
+"Why--" began Rosalind, stopping short, "it looks like--Why, Dr.
+Hollingsworth! I didn't know you were here!"
+
+At the same moment the gentleman started up, exclaiming, "Well, Rosalind,
+they said you were out of town. I am very glad to see you," and they met
+and clasped hands like warm friends.
+
+"Children!" cried Rosalind, turning to her companions, "this is our
+president, Dr. Hollingsworth."
+
+"And these are the young people who took my photograph yesterday," Dr.
+Hollingsworth observed gravely. There was a twinkle in his eye, however.
+
+By this time Mr. Whittredge had arrived on the scene and was introduced.
+
+"So this is the detective," he said.
+
+The culprits looked at each other and meditated flight, but changed their
+minds when Dr. Hollingsworth shook hands with them, and said he knew how
+it was to have a new camera and want to take everything in sight, and that
+he really felt complimented.
+
+Belle thought she wouldn't have minded, except for the detective part of
+it, over which Mr. Whittredge made so much fun.
+
+The ring was exhibited, and the whole matter made clear after a while, and
+Dr. Hollingsworth said he was glad to have figured in any capacity in such
+an interesting occurrence.
+
+"And how in the world did it get in the spinet?" asked Miss Betty. "I
+believe Cousin Thomas put it there himself, as a practical joke."
+
+Miss Betty might have been holding a reception that morning, so full of
+people did her small porch appear, and so continuous was the hum of
+voices.
+
+Dr. Hollingsworth, it seemed, had been in the habit of visiting in
+Friendship twenty years ago, and finding himself in the vicinity, he had
+made it convenient to call upon his old friends; but, as he said, things
+had been rather against him. His college friend, the Presbyterian
+minister, was away on his vacation, Miss Bishop out of town for the day,
+and Rosalind, he did not know where.
+
+"And so there was nothing for me to do but loaf about that first
+afternoon," he explained, "but little did I think to what dark suspicions
+I was laying myself open," and he smiled at Belle.
+
+"Cousin Betty, you never told me you knew our president," Rosalind said
+reproachfully.
+
+Miss Hetty laughed. "You see it had been such a long, long time,
+Rosalind--"
+
+"That she had forgotten me," added the president.
+
+"Oh, no, I hadn't," she insisted.
+
+They all felt that they should like to see more of him, and that it was
+too bad he had to leave on the five o'clock train. The last hour was spent
+with the Whittredges, and Rosalind and Allan accompanied him to the
+station. Here, while they waited, Rosalind had an opportunity to tell him
+about the society of Arden Foresters, in which he seemed greatly
+interested, and was saying he should like to belong, when the gong
+sounded the approach of the train, and there was only time for good-by.
+
+"I shall be in this part of the country late in October, and may look in
+upon you again," the president put his head out of the window to say, as
+the conductor called, "All aboard."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWENTY-FOURTH.
+
+AT THE AUCTION.
+
+"Assuredly the thing is to be sold."
+
+
+Although the September days were warm, it was plain that summer was
+departing. The flutter of yellow butterflies along the road told it, so
+did the bursting pods of the milkweed, and the golden-rod and asters,
+wreathing the meadows in royal colors.
+
+The potting of plants began in the gardens, housewifely minds turned to
+fall cleaning, the spicy odor of tomato catsup pervaded the atmosphere,
+and the sound of the school bell was heard in the land.
+
+It was always so, Belle groaned. Just when out of doors grew most
+alluring, lessons put in their superior claim. To be sure, there were some
+free afternoons and always Saturdays, but one did not want to lose a
+moment of the fleeting beauty.
+
+Rosalind missed somewhat the constant companionship of her friends. Mrs.
+Whittredge thought it hardly worth while to enter her in school for two
+months, but at the instigation of Miss Herbert some home instruction was
+begun. This Uncle Allan had no conscience about interrupting whenever he
+wanted Rosalind for a drive or walk. As yet he said nothing about leaving
+Friendship. A few brief sentences had been exchanged with his mother upon
+the subject that weighed most heavily on his mind.
+
+"Has anything ever been done, any step taken, to correct the unfounded
+report which got out at the time of my father's death, in regard to Dr.
+Fair's treatment of the case?" he asked abruptly one evening.
+
+The color rose in Mrs. Whittredge's face, and she looked up from her work.
+"I do not understand you. How do you know it was unfounded?"
+
+"For one thing, because I have taken pains to investigate. I saw Dr. Bell
+in Baltimore."
+
+"May I ask why this sudden zeal?" His mother went on taking careful
+stitches in a piece of linen.
+
+"For the reason that until a few weeks ago I knew nothing about it. Now I
+cannot rest till the cruel wrong has been in some measure righted."
+
+"And you conclude without question, at once, that all the wrong is on one
+side. But I should not be surprised. I have ever been the last to be
+considered by my children."
+
+"You are not quite fair, mother," Allan answered gently, touched by the
+unhappy bit of truth in this remark; "but I'll not defend myself more than
+to say that I am not judging any one. I only wish the wrong on our side
+made right." And he added, what he realized afterward had the sound of a
+threat, "Unless it is done, I can never call Friendship my home."
+
+Here it ended for the time.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+And now, after a week of rain, October began with perfect weather, and
+from the strangers who flocked to the auction, attracted by reports of
+Lowestoft plates and Sheraton furniture, were heard many expressions of
+delight at the beauty of the old town.
+
+For two hours before the sale began, a stream of people passed through
+the house, examining its contents, or wandered about the grounds, admiring
+the view and the fine beech trees. Friendship itself was well represented
+in the throng, but rather in the character of interested onlookers than
+probable purchasers.
+
+Miss Betty was there to watch the fate of her silver, and Allan Whittredge
+had brought Rosalind, who was eager to see for herself what an auction was
+like. She hung entranced over Patricia's miniature, which with some other
+small things of value had been placed in a glass case in the library,
+until her uncle told her if she would select some article of furniture
+that particularly pleased her, he would try to get it for her. This
+delighted her beyond measure, and after much consideration she chose a
+chest of drawers, with a small mirror above it, swung between two sportive
+and graceful dolphins. "The little dolphin bureau," she called it.
+
+[Illustration: "SHE CHOSE A CHEST OF DRAWERS."]
+
+The sale was to begin at eleven o'clock, and silverware and china were
+first to be disposed of. The long drawing-room was full of camp chairs,
+and the audience had begun to assemble when Rosalind entered and sat down
+in a corner to wait for her uncle, who was interviewing the auctioneer.
+Two rows in front of her she saw Miss Betty, with Mrs. Parton and Mrs.
+Molesworth.
+
+"Do you expect to bid on your cream-jug and sugar-bowl when they are put
+up, Betty?" asked Mrs. Parton; adding, "How this chair squeaks! I wonder
+if it will hold me."
+
+"I haven't made up my mind," was the answer. "It goes against the grain to
+give money for what is really mine already. I can't get over the
+impression that this is a funeral instead of a sale."
+
+"I wonder if the Whittredges will buy anything. I saw Allan in the hall,"
+said Mrs. Molesworth. She was a tall, angular person, with a severe
+manner, a marked contrast to Mrs. Parton, with her ample proportions and
+laughing face. "By the way, Betty," she continued, "what has become of the
+ring?"
+
+"I know no more than you."
+
+The entrance of several strangers and some confusion about seats, kept
+Rosalind from hearing any more of the conversation for a time. A portly
+man completely blocked the way, and she began to wonder if her uncle
+would be able to get to the chair she was keeping for him.
+
+When things were quiet again, she heard Mrs. Molesworth say, leaning over
+Miss Betty and speaking to Mrs. Parton, "Why, she was an actress, wasn't
+she?"
+
+"I don't see that that was such an insuperable objection," Mrs. Parton
+replied, "In point of family she was just as good as he, perhaps a little
+better. The colonel and I met a lady at Cape May who knew them well. This
+girl was left an orphan early, and through the rascality of her guardian
+found herself penniless at seventeen. She had inherited the artistic gift
+of her family, only in her it took the dramatic turn, and necessity and
+her surroundings all combined to lead her in that direction. Then just as
+she was making a success she gave it up to marry--" Another interruption,
+and Rosalind did not hear whom she married.
+
+Her uncle now managed to join her by stepping over the backs of chairs,
+and it was not long before the sale began.
+
+From the start it was evident the city people had not come to look on.
+Bidding was spirited, and Miss Betty's silver soon went "out of sight,"
+as Mrs. Parton expressed it.
+
+Rosalind was highly entertained, and whenever her uncle put in a quiet
+bid, as he did now and then, she held her breath, fairly, for fear he
+would not get what he wanted.
+
+To Allan there was an unreality about it all. It seemed so short a time
+since he and Genevieve and Celia had been children together, taking tea
+with Cousin Thomas and Cousin Anne. What a strange household the two had
+constituted in this old mansion, where their whole lives had been spent.
+As he thought of it, he felt he had an inkling of why Thomas Gilpin had
+done as he did. Perhaps he had felt it would be better to have a clean
+sweep, and thus make possible for some one a fresh beginning in the old
+place. A fine substantial house it was, needing only a few improvements to
+make of it, with its spacious, high-ceiled rooms and wide hall, a most
+desirable residence.
+
+Rosalind's voice recalled him. "May I come again this afternoon, Uncle
+Allan? They may begin on the furniture."
+
+The auction continued for three or four days. Rosalind became the proud
+possessor of the dolphin bureau; and her uncle obtained also the miniature
+of Patricia, for what seemed indeed an extravagant sum, but he had given
+his promise to his sister.
+
+At the close of the sale on the second day, Allan went into the library to
+examine some books. The throng of onlookers and buyers had dispersed; only
+the auctioneer's assistants remained at work in the hall. Purchases had
+been promptly removed, and the house already seemed dismantled and bare.
+
+Absorbed in his search for a volume not on the catalogue, but which he
+felt sure was somewhere on the shelves, he became aware of Celia Fair's
+voice just outside the door. The next moment she entered the library and,
+going to the fireplace, stooped to examine the andirons. She had not
+observed him. Should he go quietly out, or make one more appeal to be
+heard? Allan hesitated.
+
+With her hand on the high mantel-shelf and her head against her hand,
+Celia stood looking down on the vacant hearth. There was something of
+weariness in the attitude. What a delicate bit of porcelain she seemed!
+Allan had a sudden, illogical vision of a fire of blazing logs, and
+himself and Celia sitting before it.
+
+He moved out of the shadow and she saw him; but though she stood erect and
+tense in a moment, she did not, as he expected, hasten from the room.
+Instead, she hesitated, and there was an appeal in her eyes very different
+from the defiance of a few weeks ago.
+
+"I didn't know there was any one here," she said; adding, "Mr. Whittredge,
+I have wanted to have an opportunity to say that I regret my rudeness. I
+was unreasonable--I am sorry."
+
+The childishness of the speech went to Allan's heart. He was conscious of
+keeping a very tight rein on himself as he answered, "Do not say that. I
+can understand a little of what you must feel. But does it mean that I may
+speak now and tell you that only a few weeks ago I first learned the
+cruel, the unwarranted, charge against your father? I had not understood
+before."
+
+Celia lifted her hand as if to ward off a blow, but she did not speak.
+
+Allan continued, "My silence must have seemed like a consent to it. And
+now, can we not meet, if only for a few minutes, on common ground? Must we
+be enemies because--"
+
+"Not enemies--oh, no," Celia said, looking toward the door as if she
+wished to end the interview.
+
+"Then--you will think me very insistent--but there is something I must
+explain to you. First, won't you let me give you a chair?"
+
+"Thank you, I'll stand," Celia answered; she moved, however, to a table
+and leaned against it.
+
+"It is about the ring. You perhaps remember the wording of the will?
+Before I left home to go abroad, so long ago, when I bade good-by to old
+Mr. Gilpin, he said to me, with that odd chuckle of his, 'Allan, I want
+Celia to have the ring when I die,' I replied that I hoped he would leave
+it to you in his will. Again, as I was leaving him, he called after me,
+'Remember, Celia is to have the ring,' It escaped my mind until I heard of
+the will, then of course I remembered. I think he had a feeling that if he
+left it to anybody it should be to a member of our family, and yet he
+wished you to have it. Now we both know what the old man had in mind;
+but, although things have changed between us since then, the fact remains
+that the ring is yours." Allan took the little worn case from his breast
+pocket and held it out.
+
+Celia looked at his extended hand, and shook her head. "I cannot take it,"
+she said.
+
+"But it does not belong to me; you must take it. You put me in an awkward
+position by refusing."
+
+Celia's eyes flashed. "And how about my position if I should take it? Has
+not all Friendship been speculating about the meaning of the Gilpin will?
+Is not everybody wondering what you are going to do with it? What--" She
+paused, clearly unable to keep her voice steady.
+
+She seemed about to hurry away when Allan intercepted her. "Forgive
+me--wait--just a moment. I see now. I was unpardonably stupid. I am not in
+the habit of considering what people say or may think, but I can see it
+would not do. I seem to be always annoying you," he concluded helplessly.
+
+A faint smile dawned on Celia's face. "No one can help it; it is just an
+awkward situation," she said, and left him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWENTY-FIFTH.
+
+QUESTIONS.
+
+"They asked one another the reason."
+
+
+Although the auction was over, the air of Friendship still vibrated from
+the stir. Bereft of its treasures, the Gilpin house stood an empty shell,
+facing an unknown future; for beyond the statement that he was from
+Baltimore, nothing was known of its purchaser.
+
+"Why in the world should a man from Baltimore want it?" Mrs. Parton asked;
+and the question was echoed on all sides. Not to live in, at all events,
+it appeared, as weeks passed and it remained undisturbed.
+
+Nor was this the only unanswered question. There was the ring. Miss Betty
+said it might as well have been left in the spinet, for all the good it
+did any one.
+
+Allan had his own unanswered question; without doubt his mother had hers,
+as had Celia Fair, but they gave no sign to the outside world, nor asked
+any help in finding an answer.
+
+And now came a new excitement. Dr. Pierce, the Presbyterian minister,
+announced impressively one Sunday that on a week from that day his pulpit
+would be occupied by his distinguished friend, Dr. Hollingsworth.
+
+It was explained that he had been South on business relating to a bequest
+to the university, and found it convenient to stop over on his way home.
+Still, with several large cities within easy reach, his presence was an
+undoubted compliment to the village, and Friendship began at once to
+refresh its memory in regard to its expected guest.
+
+Mrs. Molesworth came across the street to ask Mrs. Parton if she had ever
+heard Dr. Hollingsworth was not orthodox.
+
+Mrs. Parton had not, and seemed to consider it a minor matter, for she
+went on to tell how pleasant he was, and how fully he appreciated the joke
+of being taken for a detective by Belle.
+
+"I trust, indeed, it is not true," said Mrs. Molesworth, going back to the
+original question.
+
+"Well, I shouldn't worry, Cornelia. He is not likely to do much harm in
+one sermon," Mrs. Parton answered easily.
+
+Mrs. Molesworth shook her head. "You can never be sure. It is not for
+myself I fear, but for the boys. I have tried to protect them."
+
+"If your boys are like mine, they won't get any harm from a sermon. I do
+manage to drag them to church, but it is like taking a horse to water--it
+is another matter to make them listen."
+
+Mrs. Molesworth returned home feeling that Mary Parton treated serious
+subjects with undue levity. Mrs. Parton, seeing Miss Betty Bishop
+approaching, lingered at the gate.
+
+"Well, Betty, I suppose you know we are to have Dr. Hollingsworth at our
+church Sunday."
+
+She had heard it, but did not seem disposed to enlarge upon it, as was her
+custom with a piece of news.
+
+"Cornelia Molesworth is worrying because she has heard he is not
+orthodox."
+
+"She is not obliged to hear him, is she? Nobody can amount to anything
+nowadays without being accused of heresy; however, I fancy Dr.
+Hollingsworth can bear up under Mrs. Molesworth's disapproval."
+
+Mrs. Parton surveyed Miss Betty with a twinkle in her eye. "I declare,
+Betty," she remarked, irrelevantly, "you are growing younger. You look
+nearer twenty than forty this minute."
+
+"Perhaps it is my new hat," Miss Betty suggested; but surely she had
+passed the age when one flushes over the possession of a becoming hat.
+
+Mrs. Parton laughed to herself as she went back to the house, "Do you
+suppose that is why he is coming? Goodness! I wish the colonel was here."
+
+The news was discussed all over town that Monday morning.
+
+"What brings Dr. Hollingsworth here?" Dr. Barnes asked, meeting Colonel
+Parton in the bank. "He is a friend of the Whittredges, I understand.
+Anyway, it is a compliment to Friendship."
+
+"Friendship is a great place. He liked our looks when he was here a month
+or so ago," and the colonel laughed his easy laugh.
+
+"More than likely he thinks we need a little stirring up," Mr. Roberts
+remarked from his desk.
+
+"Did you hear the joke on my Belle?" the colonel asked, and proceeded to
+relate the story of the supposed detective and the photograph.
+
+The Arden Foresters in their turn talked it over that afternoon, sitting
+in a row near the red oak, which lavished badges of crimson and gold upon
+them now. The October air was delicious. They had raced up the hill and
+down to the landing and back again, for pure joy of moving in the
+sparkling atmosphere.
+
+"I have something to tell you," Rosalind announced. "You must all come to
+church next Sunday, for our president is going to preach."
+
+"Is that what you have to tell? because I knew it already," said Belle,
+whose cheeks matched the oak leaf she was pinning on her jacket.
+
+"No, it is something even better than that. I have a letter to read to
+you." As she spoke, Rosalind tossed a handful of leaves at Maurice.
+
+"That's right, wake the professor up," cried Jack, following her example.
+
+"Or bury him," said Belle, joining the onslaught.
+
+Maurice, who had been gazing rather absently into the distance, was
+aroused to defend himself, and the battle resolved itself into a
+hand-to-hand combat between the two boys.
+
+Maurice's crutch had been discarded, and his knee was almost as strong as
+ever, although rough sports, such as foot-ball, were still denied him. He
+had recently arrived at the dignity of long trousers, being tall for his
+age, and Jack had immediately nicknamed him "the professor."
+
+"Now, boys, that is enough," Rosalind said, with decision; "Maurice is
+waked up, I think."
+
+"Am I awake, or not?" Maurice demanded of the struggling Jack, as he held
+him down and sat upon him.
+
+"Mercy, yes!" Jack cried, freeing himself with a mighty effort. "But you
+must smile; I can't have you looking so melancholy. _Smile!_"
+
+In spite of himself Maurice obeyed the command.
+
+"That's right; now sit down and behave," Jack added, laughing.
+
+Rosalind took out her letter. "Listen," she said:--
+
+    "MY DEAR ROSALIND: I am coming back to Friendship in a
+    few days, and I want to ask if the Arden Foresters will admit a
+    new member to their circle? I am greatly interested in what I
+    have heard of it. I have been travelling in the Forest for a
+    good many years, with just an occasional lapse into the desert,
+    but I should like the right to wear an oak leaf and have my name
+    in the Arden Foresters' book, on the page with the magician's.
+
+    "Hoping that this is not asking too much, I am
+
+                               "Yours affectionately,
+
+                                     "CHARLES W. HOLLINGSWORTH."
+
+"Isn't that dear of him?"
+
+"Does he mean it really?" asked Maurice.
+
+"What is the matter with you, Maurice? Of course he does," cried Belle.
+"He is grand! The detective," and she laughed at the recollection.
+
+"Rosalind is going home before long, and I didn't know whether we would
+keep it up," Maurice said.
+
+"But I shall come back again next summer, and,--oh, I hope we aren't going
+to give it up!" Rosalind looked anxiously at her companions.
+
+"Never!" cried Belle.
+
+"No indeed," said Jack. "I am an Arden Forester forever."
+
+"A monkey forever," growled Maurice.
+
+"That is better than a bear, anyway," retorted Jack.
+
+"Maurice reminds me of the day I first talked to him through the hedge,"
+Rosalind remarked, smiling at him.
+
+Maurice laughed. "I was pretty cross that day. I don't mean that I want to
+give the society up, only we can't meet here much longer, and it seems as
+if our fun was nearly over."
+
+"It will soon be too cold to have our meetings out of doors; let's ask the
+magician if we can't meet there," Belle proposed.
+
+"What fun! I almost wish I wasn't going home. You must all write to me
+about what you do," said Rosalind.
+
+"We shall miss you dreadfully," Belle said, looking pensive for a moment.
+
+"But she hasn't gone yet, so what is the use of thinking about something
+that is going to happen, when you are having a pretty good time now?"
+asked Jack, philosophically.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWENTY-SIXTH.
+
+THE PRESIDENT.
+
+"--And good in everything."
+
+
+Friendship was without doubt a churchgoing community,--the different
+denominations could all boast of creditable congregations on Sunday
+mornings,--but on the occasion of Dr. Hollingsworth's visit, the other
+churches had a mere handful to divide between them, while at the
+Presbyterian church chairs had to be placed in the aisles. Such an unusual
+event afforded a pleasing variety in the customary Sabbath monotony.
+Something of a festive air pervaded the assembly.
+
+Celia Fair and Miss Betty Bishop, both deserters from the Episcopal
+church, chanced to be seated together. Rosalind's urgent invitation to
+come and hear our president preach, had brought Celia, and it was, of
+course, for old friendship's sake that Miss Betty was there.
+
+"Isn't that Mrs. Whittredge?" she whispered to Celia, as Allan with his
+mother and Rosalind passed up the aisle. "I don't know when she has been
+at church before." Then at sight of Mrs. Molesworth Miss Betty gave a
+slight shrug.
+
+A flutter of interested anticipation was noticeable when Dr. Pierce
+entered the pulpit accompanied by the stranger, and it must be confessed
+that the service preceding the sermon was gone through with perfunctorily
+by the greater part of the congregation. After the notices for the week
+had been given, there was a general settling back and recalling of
+wandering attention as Dr. Hollingsworth came forward and stood in the
+pastor's place at the desk.
+
+Mrs. Molesworth twisted her neck in an endeavor to see if he had notes;
+Colonel Parton decided promptly that here was no orator; Belle smiled at
+Rosalind across the aisle, thinking of the detective.
+
+In the president's gaze, as it rested upon the assembly, was the same
+genial kindliness that had attracted Belle when she first met him on Main
+Street. It seemed to draw his audience closer to him, to make of it a
+circle of friends. His manner was simple, his tone almost conversational.
+At the announcement of his text Celia leaned forward with a sudden
+conviction that here was a message for her:--
+
+"It is the Father's good pleasure to give you the Kingdom."
+
+Varied were the opinions afterward expressed of the sermon that followed.
+What Celia carried away with her was something like this:--
+
+"I shall speak to you this morning," he said, "upon a subject that touches
+each one of us very nearly, from the oldest to the youngest; for whatever
+our circumstances, whether we are rich or poor, learned or simple, whether
+our lot is cast in protected homes or in the midst of the world's great
+battle-field, our task is one and the same: to become citizens of the
+Kingdom of God. This being so, we cannot think too often or too much about
+this Kingdom, or inquire too minutely into its laws, or ask ourselves too
+earnestly why it is that so few of us accept the gift in anything like its
+fulness.
+
+"Although it is offered as a gift, there are conditions to be fulfilled,
+difficulties to be overcome. Our Lord recognized this when He said that
+the gate was strait and the way narrow, but He also said that this
+Kingdom was worth any price, or was beyond all price, to be obtained at
+any sacrifice. He emphasized this by a strong figure. It was better to
+enter into life maimed, He said,--with hand or foot cut off--rather than
+to miss life altogether.... The conditions of entrance into the Kingdom
+are apparently so simple it is strange we find them so difficult. I think
+they may be sifted down to two: love and faith,--the love from which
+service springs, the faith that means joy and peace. If we are to be the
+children of our Heavenly Father we must love, and we must have in our
+hearts that joy which grows out of trust.
+
+"Jesus said, 'Seek first the Kingdom of God.' If we do this we need
+concern ourselves with nothing else, and by concern I mean burden
+ourselves. The daily round--the vast machinery of life--must go on, but
+after all only he who belongs to the Kingdom is fitted to meet its
+problems. He brings to them a calm confidence, a clear vision. His heart
+does not beat quick with hate or envy. His energy is not weakened by
+worry. His sight is not dimmed by doubt.... Perhaps some of you are
+saying--what is so often said--that it is easy to preach; and you ask how
+one can cease to worry when the path is dark before him; how one can look
+upon the terrible problems of sin and suffering, and not feel their
+crushing weight. If what I am saying this morning were simply what I think
+about it, you are right to doubt. But these are not my words. Can you
+believe that our Lord when He told His disciples to seek the Kingdom and
+all other needful things would be added, was simply giving utterance to a
+beautiful but impracticable theory? For my part, I cannot.
+
+"I would ask you to notice that Jesus founded all he has to say on one
+great fact: the love of your Heavenly Father for you individually. Are you
+struggling with poverty, perhaps? Your Heavenly Father knoweth. Try, if
+but for a day, to put aside your anxiety and fix your thought on this. The
+things you need shall be given, and you shall find strength for another
+day of trust.
+
+"Have you been wronged? do you find it hard to forgive? are you bitter?
+Your Heavenly Father knoweth. He will take care of your cause. Leave it to
+Him; do not be afraid to forget it. Seek, ask, knock, that you may obtain
+entrance into the Kingdom of love.
+
+"Are you crushed by sorrow or physical pain? Your Father knoweth. Cease to
+fight against it. Come into His Kingdom. Suffering endures but a little
+while; and if you will have it so, out of it will come a diviner joy.
+
+"Is the world full of dark problems? Your Heavenly Father knoweth. It is
+His world. Your part is to do, not to despair.
+
+"Are you full of youth and hope and glad anticipation? Your Father
+knoweth. He made you so, and in a special sense the Kingdom belongs to
+you. The simple-hearted, the teachable, the joyous,--of such is the
+Kingdom. Enter in, and immortal youth shall be yours.... Oh, if I might
+help you to know the beauty, the joy, the peace of the Kingdom into which
+we may enter now and here, if we will. Yet we go on our way, oppressed by
+care, warped by envy and hate, our eyes blinded by what we call worldly
+wisdom."
+
+Something like this was what came to Celia; and as she listened, forgetful
+of her surroundings, it linked itself in her thought to the Forest
+secret.
+
+It was not so much the words as the aspirations they stirred,--the new
+belief in the possibility of high and joyous living, the new courage that
+thrilled in her veins. She was still under the spell when after the
+benediction Miss Betty asked, with a certain timidity, if she had liked
+the sermon.
+
+Celia looked at her blankly for a second before she replied, "Oh, so much!
+It was beautiful. I should like to know him." She turned away with a
+smile; she was not ready to discuss it yet. She wanted to think.
+
+"He held my attention, I grant, but I don't call it a sermon; it was too
+elementary,--it was nothing but a talk," she heard Mrs. Molesworth saying.
+
+"If it wasn't a sermon, it was something better," answered cheery Mrs.
+Parton.
+
+"Most magnetic speaker," the colonel was remarking to some one.
+
+And now Rosalind and Belle claimed Celia's attention, demanding to know
+what she thought of the detective; and she must come back to earth and
+listen and reply and enter into their gayety--an easier matter, to be
+sure, than responding to the comments of grown people.
+
+The next morning, on her way to class, Celia met Miss Betty and Dr.
+Hollingsworth walking up the hill toward the Gilpin house, and Miss Betty
+stopped and presented her companion.
+
+After some moments' chat about other things, as they were separating,
+Celia said, "I want to thank you, Dr. Hollingsworth, for my share of your
+sermon yesterday." Her face made it evident that this was no merely
+conventional speech, and the president looked down upon her benignly
+through his glasses.
+
+"I thank you for being willing to take any of my thoughts to yourself," he
+said.
+
+Celia now noticed for the first time that he wore an oak leaf, and she
+remembered with what delight Rosalind and Belle had told her of his wish
+to be an Arden Forester. "I believe," she added, laughing a little, "that
+I have the Kingdom of Heaven and the Forest somewhat mixed."
+
+"You will find when you have lived as long as I have that there are often
+many names for the same thing," the president answered, smiling.
+
+"And do you believe that things always come right in the Forest?" The
+wistful note in Celia's voice told something of her struggle.
+
+"It has been my experience so far on the journey. But, my dear young lady,
+the one way to test it is to live there."
+
+"I mean to," she said earnestly.
+
+Whatever the opinion in Friendship of Dr. Hollingsworth's ability as a
+preacher, he left behind him a most agreeable impression as a mere man, to
+quote Mrs. Parton.
+
+The Arden Foresters would not soon forget a tramp with him over Red Hill.
+They found him interested in everything, in a light-hearted, boyish way
+that made them overlook the fact that he was the president of a great
+university. When they stopped on the hilltop to rest and enjoy the view,
+he sat on the fence with them and talked foot-ball and cricket, and told
+stories of college pranks without deducing a single useful lesson
+therefrom. This was a surprise to Jack, for Dr. Pierce, who lived next
+door to the Partons, was fond of morals, and went about with his pockets
+full, so to speak.
+
+Before they knew it, they found themselves confiding to him their plans
+for the future.
+
+"You must all come to our university," Rosalind said, with decision,
+"mustn't they, Dr. Hollingsworth? Jack can study forestry, and Maurice
+can study law; and Belle and Katherine--"
+
+"I mean to study medicine if father will let me," Belle put in.
+
+Dr. Hollingsworth smiled upon the bright-eyed little girl, in whose every
+movement self-reliance and energy were written. "Don't be in haste to
+decide," he said. "There is sure to be something for you to do, and
+Rosalind and I shall be glad if, whatever it is, it brings you to our
+university."
+
+As they watched the president sign his name in the Arden Foresters' book
+that afternoon, there was stirred in each young heart an impulse to be and
+to do something worth while in the world.
+
+Meantime, the report spread that in returning to Friendship, Dr.
+Hollingsworth had had another object than merely to preach for Dr.
+Pierce.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVENTH.
+
+OLD ENEMIES.
+
+"Kindness nobler ever than revenge."
+
+
+If things came right in the Forest, it was not through effort. One had
+simply to surrender to its spell, to breathe in the beauty and the calm,
+to live there, as the president had said.
+
+Celia's thoughts were interrupted by Sally's hurried entrance.
+
+"Laws a mercy! Miss Celia, honey, Mrs. Whittredge's in the parlor. I come
+mighty nigh askin' her what she wanted in dis yere house."
+
+Celia looked up in astonishment. Mrs. Whittredge! What could it mean? "And
+she asked for me?" she repeated.
+
+"I done tol' her your mamma was sick, but she 'lowed 'twas you she
+wanted."
+
+Celia recovered herself. "Very well, Sally," she said, but it was with a
+beating heart she walked the length of the hall. Her enemy! What did it
+mean?
+
+Mrs. Whittredge, her heavy veil thrown back a little, stood beside the
+table in the centre of the room.
+
+"You are surprised, Celia," she said, as they faced each other, "but there
+is something I wish to say to you. No, I will stand, thank you."
+
+Celia waited, feeling, even in the midst of a tumult of emotion, the
+tragic beauty of the dark eyes.
+
+Mrs. Whittredge seemed to find words difficult. She looked down at the
+table on which her right hand rested. "I have made many mistakes," she
+began, "but--I have never meant to wrong any one. At the time of my
+husband's illness I--there were things said--I did not agree with Dr.
+Fair, and I may have gone too far. It is my misfortune to be intense. I
+was very unhappy. I thought the case was not understood. It was my
+mistake." She paused.
+
+"And my father died, crushed by the knowledge that he was unjustly blamed
+for the death of his friend! The discovery of your mistake comes too
+late." Celia's voice was tense with the stored up pain of those two years.
+
+Mrs. Whittredge drew back. "You are hard," she said. "We look at things
+from different standpoints. I have told you I wish to wrong no one,
+but--ah, your father was cruel--cruel to me!"
+
+"My father was never cruel," Celia cried.
+
+"Listen! He told me I was killing my husband. I, who worshipped him. I,
+who--God knows--would have given my life to--" she broke off in a passion
+of grief, sinking into a chair and burying her lace in her hands.
+
+Celia stood abashed and trembling before this revelation of a sorrow
+deeper than her own,--the sorrow of self accusation and unavailing regret.
+
+"Have you been wronged, are you hard and bitter? Seek the Kingdom of love.
+Your Heavenly Father knoweth. He will take care of your cause." For a
+moment Celia struggled against the wave of pity that was sweeping over
+her, then forgetting everything but the suffering of this woman bowed
+before her, she knelt by her side.
+
+"Forgive me," she whispered. "I do not want to be hard. I, too, have
+suffered, though not like you. Perhaps we wronged the dead by keeping
+bitterness in our hearts. Perhaps to them it is all made right now. I will
+forgive; I will try to forget."
+
+Mrs. Whittredge lifted her head. Her face was drawn and white.
+
+"I cannot forget," she said; "it is my misery. But I have no wish to make
+other lives as unhappy as my own. Will you believe me when I say I regret
+the wrong I did, and that I want to interfere with no one's happiness
+hereafter?"
+
+"I will believe it," Celia said, holding out her hand.
+
+Mrs. Whittredge did not refuse it; but her own was very cold in Celia's
+clasp. Drawing her veil over her face, without another word she left the
+house.
+
+Celia sat still, dazed by the sudden onward sweep of things. A meaning, a
+possible motive, beneath Mrs. Whittredge's words occurred to her as her
+heart began to beat more quietly. "To interfere with no one's happiness
+hereafter." Could Allan--but no, she would not let herself think it. She
+would stay in the Forest, and work and wait, and trust in its beneficent
+spell.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHTH.
+
+BETTER THAN DREAMS.
+
+                   "I like this place,
+    And willingly could waste my time in it."
+
+
+The engagement of Miss Betty Bishop and Dr. Hollingsworth was announced.
+As Miss Betty said, there was no use in trying to keep it a secret with
+Mrs. Parton spreading her suspicions abroad.
+
+"If you had confided in me and asked me not to tell, I shouldn't have
+breathed it," that lady protested.
+
+"Oh, yes, you would," Miss Betty said, laughing. "You know you tell
+everything; but, after all, there's no harm done, and no reason why it
+should not be known. I don't blame people for being surprised, either. I
+am surprised myself, and I see the absurdity, but--"
+
+"There is no absurdity about it. I am delighted. Dr. Hollingsworth is
+charming. I'd be willing to marry him myself if it wasn't for the
+colonel, and you are going to be as happy as happy can be." Mrs. Parton
+laughed her pleasant laugh, clearly overjoyed at what seemed to her the
+good fortune of her friend.
+
+Rosalind first heard the news from Belle. "Why," she said, "if he marries
+Cousin Betty, the president will be related to me."
+
+"Let's frame Dr. Hollingsworth's picture and give it to her," Maurice
+suggested.
+
+This was hailed as a brilliant idea, and that afternoon the five might
+have been seen in the picture store in search of a frame for the stolen
+photograph. It was an excellent likeness of the president, and an equally
+good one of black Bob, who, happening to pass at the critical moment, had
+been included unintentionally.
+
+The proprietor of the store, getting an inkling of the joke, hunted up a
+small frame which, with the help of a mat, answered very well. Then the
+Arden Foresters proceeded to Miss Betty's, where they delivered the
+package into Sophy's hands and scampered away, their courage not being
+equal to an encounter with her mistress.
+
+At the bank gate they separated, Belle going in with Katherine to practise
+a duet they were learning, and Jack hurrying home with the fear of his
+Latin lesson before his eyes. Maurice walked on with Rosalind.
+
+"Come in for a while," she said.
+
+The air was crisp, but the sunshine was bright, and the bench under the
+bare branches of the white birch seemed more inviting than indoors. As
+they took their seat there, Rosalind said gayly, "Father will be here this
+week. We are not sure what day."
+
+"And then you will have to go," Maurice added discontentedly.
+
+"Yes, and I am partly sorry and partly glad. I am so glad I came to
+Friendship, Maurice. Just think how many friends I have made!"
+
+"How long ago it seems--that day when you spoke to me through the hedge.
+You must have thought I was a dreadful muff," said Maurice.
+
+Rosalind laughed. "I thought you were cross."
+
+"I was in a horrid temper, but I didn't know how horrid until you told me
+the story and I read in the book what your cousin wrote about bearing
+hard things bravely. I suppose if it had not been for you, I should have
+gone on being a beast."
+
+"I was feeling pretty cross myself that day. I didn't know then what a
+pleasant place Friendship is. I think I have found a great deal of joy by
+the way, as Cousin Louis said," Rosalind continued meditatively.
+
+"And I thought my summer was spoiled," Maurice added.
+
+"It just shows you can never tell," Rosalind concluded wisely.
+
+"Are you sure you won't forget us when you go away?" Maurice wanted to say
+"me," instead of "us," but a sudden shyness prevented.
+
+"Why, Maurice, I couldn't! Especially you; for you were my first friend."
+The gray eyes looked into his frankly and happily.
+
+After Maurice had gone, Rosalind still sat there in the wintry sunshine.
+Things seemed very quiet just now, with Uncle Allan away for a week and
+Aunt Genevieve not yet returned. She and her grandmother were keeping each
+other company, and becoming better acquainted than ever before. Mrs.
+Whittredge's glance often rested upon her granddaughter with a sort of
+wistful affection, and once, when their eyes met, Rosalind, with a quick
+impulse, had gone to her side and put her arms around her. Mrs. Whittredge
+returned the caress, saying, "I shall be sorry to give you up, dearie."
+
+On another occasion Rosalind had told how surprised she had been to find
+that her grandmother did not wear caps and do knitting work. "But I like
+you a great deal better as you are," she added.
+
+Mrs. Whittredge smiled. "I fear I am in every way far from being an ideal
+grandmother," she said.
+
+Rosalind thought of all this, her eyes on the dismantled garden. The
+flower beds were bare, the shrubs done up in straw, the fountain dry, and
+yet something recalled the summer day when she had sat just here learning
+her hymn. She remembered her old dreams of Friendship, and now she decided
+that the reality was best. She shut her eyes and tried to think just how
+she had felt that Sunday afternoon.
+
+"What is the matter, little girl?" The magician's words, but not his
+voice; nor was it his face she looked into.
+
+"Father!" she cried,--"you dear! Where did you come from?"
+
+It was some time before any connected conversation was possible.
+
+"Why, father, how brown you are!"
+
+"And Rosalind, how tall you are, and how rosy! To think I have lost six
+months of your life!"
+
+"And I want to tell you everything just in one minute. What shall I do?"
+Rosalind said, laughing, as she held him fast.
+
+It did indeed seem a task of alarming proportions to tell all there was to
+tell; Rosalind felt a little impatient at having to share her father with
+her grandmother that evening. And there was almost as much to hear,--of
+Cousin Louis, whose health was now restored, but who was to spend some
+months in England, of their adventures, and the sights they had seen.
+
+"We shall want something to talk about when we get home," she was
+reminded.
+
+It would have been plain to the least observant that Patterson
+Whittredge's life was bound up with that of this little daughter. As he
+talked to his mother, his eyes rested fondly on Rosalind, and every
+subject led back to her at last.
+
+Rosalind, looking from her father to her grandmother, noted how much alike
+were their dark eyes, but here the resemblance ended. Mrs. Whittredge's
+oldest son, although he might possess something of her strong will, had
+nothing of her haughty reserve. His manner, in spite of the preoccupation
+of the student, was one of winning cordiality. Older and graver than
+Allan, there was yet a strong likeness between the brothers.
+
+Rosalind could not rest until she had taken her father to all the historic
+spots, as she merrily called them,--Red Hill, the Gilpin place, the
+cemetery, and the magician's shop, of course.
+
+"Friendship has been good for you, little girl," he said, as they set out
+far a walk next day.
+
+"I used to think that stories were better than real things, father, but it
+isn't so in Friendship. At first I was--oh, so lonely; I thought I never
+could be the least bit happy without you and Cousin Louis; but the
+magician and the Forest helped me, and since then I have had a beautiful
+time. I love Friendship. I almost wish we could live here."
+
+"And desert Cousin Louis and the university?"
+
+"No, I suppose not; but we can come back in the summer, can't we? And, oh,
+father dear, you'll join the Arden Foresters, won't you?"
+
+As they walked up the winding road at the cemetery, Mr. Whittredge heard
+something of those puzzles which had so disturbed Rosalind's first weeks
+in Friendship, beginning with the story of the rose.
+
+"It's funny, father, but I hadn't thought till then that grown people had
+quarrels. I might have known it from the story of the Forest; I remembered
+that afterward, and how things all came right."
+
+"Poor little girl! You should have been warned; and yet in spite of it you
+have learned that realities are better than dreams."
+
+"Father," Rosalind asked abruptly, "why was it you did not come to
+Friendship for so many years? Did not grandmamma like my mother? I think
+I ought to know."
+
+Mr. Whittredge smiled at the womanly seriousness of the lifted face. "I
+think you ought, dear," he answered.
+
+With her hand clasped in his he told her the story briefly, for even now
+he could not dwell upon it without pain, and as Rosalind listened she
+discovered that she had already heard a bit of it from Mrs. Parton and
+Mrs. Molesworth at the auction.
+
+"We must try, you and I, not to think too hardly of grandmamma now. She
+has suffered a great deal, and it was your mother's earnest wish that the
+trouble might be healed if the opportunity ever came." Patterson said
+nothing of his own struggle to forgive his mother's attitude toward his
+young wife.
+
+"I think, father," Rosalind said, "that perhaps grandmamma is sorry. One
+day, not long ago, I saw her looking at mother's picture. She did not know
+I was there. She took it from the table and held it in her hand, and I am
+sure she was crying a little."
+
+That was a happy day, for now they put aside sad memories, and turned to
+the merry side of life, Rosalind kept forgetting that her father had been
+in Friendship before, and continued to point out objects of interest with
+which he had been familiar long before she was born. So full were the
+hours that it was growing dusk when they turned into Church Lane to call
+on the magician.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWENTY-NINTH.
+
+AT THE MAGICIAN'S.
+
+"I would have you."
+
+
+Over his work these days the magician often smiled. It seemed to him that
+the good in things was beginning to show very plainly. The atmosphere of
+Friendship was clearing; the trouble which had first shown itself when
+Patterson Whittredge left his home had begun to lift with the coming of
+his daughter. Not that Rosalind had anything to do with it; it was only
+one of those bits of poetical justice that go to make life interesting.
+
+An onlooker might have observed that he smiled oftener when engaged on the
+spinet than at other times; but if the magician had made any more
+discoveries in connection with it, he kept them to himself.
+
+Now that the days were growing chill, a cheerful fire blazed on his
+hearth, before which Crisscross and Curly Q. dozed; he had found time to
+renew the motto over the chimney-piece, and the window-shelf was full of
+plants. The Arden Foresters appeared to regard the place as a club-room
+for their special benefit, and dropped in at all hours. The magician liked
+to have them there. As he sandpapered and oiled and polished, it was
+pleasant to glance in, now and then, at the open door, at a row of bright
+faces in the chimney-corner.
+
+Once in a while Celia joined them for a few minutes. She wanted to know
+about the purchaser of the spinet, but Morgan seemed inclined to evade her
+questions. He did not deny that there was a purchaser, but the name had
+apparently escaped him.
+
+Belle suggested that it might be the same mysterious individual who had
+bought the house, and Morgan accepted this as a happy solution when it was
+mentioned to him.
+
+The cabinet-maker was a very queer person at times.
+
+Celia sat in one corner of the high-backed settle alone this afternoon.
+Belle, who had come in with the news of the arrival of Rosalind's father
+the evening before, had just gone, and Celia, who had spent a busy
+morning, was reflecting that it was too late to begin a new task, and that
+she might as well allow herself to rest. Of late she hid taken life more
+quietly.
+
+"Morgan seems to have gone out. May I come in?" It was Allan Whittredge
+who spoke, standing in the door.
+
+"He was there a moment ago," Celia answered, rising.
+
+"May I wait for him here? You agreed we were not to be enemies; can't we
+go a step farther, and be friends?"
+
+Celia found no reply to this, but she sat dawn again.
+
+Allan took the arm-chair and faced her. "I seem to be always forcing
+myself on you, but I'll promise you this is the last time," he said.
+
+Still Celia had nothing to say, but she allowed him a glance of her dark
+eyes which was not discouraging.
+
+Allan went on: "I am so tired of mistakes and misunderstandings that,
+before the subject is closed forever between us, I want you to know the
+exact truth in regard to my feelings.
+
+"When I received your letter putting an end to things, at first I was hurt
+and angry, and I tried to persuade myself that it was for the best after
+all. You see, I did not know your side, and you will forgive me if I
+confess I thought you childish and lacking in deep feeling. Then, two
+years later, I saw you with the children, coming down the stairs at the
+Gilpin house, and something made me feel dimly that I had wronged you; but
+still I could not understand, until some words of Cousin Betty's suddenly
+made it clear. It was maddening to think what my long silence must have
+seemed to mean to you. Then, for the first time, I saw the real barrier
+between us, and the more I thought of it, the more impenetrable it became.
+
+"But it is hard for me to give up. I have looked at it on all sides; I
+went away that I might think more clearly about it, and of late I have
+begun to hope. I believe that love worthy of the name lives on in spite of
+everything, and I have dared to wonder if your love could have weathered
+this storm; if you still cared, though it might be only enough to give me
+the chance to win you again." Allan bent forward in his earnestness, his
+eyes fixed appealingly upon the small, still figure in the corner of the
+settle.
+
+"Do you not care at all, Celia?" he asked, after a moment's silence.
+
+Celia lifted her eyes. "Care?" she cried, "I have always cared,--through
+everything! When I thought you knew and believed the cruel charge against
+my father; when I knew his heart was broken; when he was dead,--when I
+wanted to hate you, still I cared. Have you cared like that?"
+
+This vehement confession, with its note of defiance, was bewildering.
+Allan hesitated before this unapproachable, tempestuous Celia. Then he
+drew his chair nearer. "Celia, dear heart, do not speak so; I have not
+been tried like you, but give me the chance and see how I will atone for
+the past."
+
+Suddenly Celia held out her hand; "Oh, Allan, I am so very bad-tempered. I
+seem always determined to quarrel," she said, with a laugh that was half a
+sob.
+
+This was enough, the strain was broken; Allan forsook the arm-chair for
+the settle.
+
+It was perhaps some fifteen minutes later when he asked Celia if she
+remembered the magician, and the tiger with three white whiskers. "What a
+brave little girl you were," he added.
+
+"Little goose," said Celia.
+
+"Does that mean you will no longer follow me blindly?"
+
+She laughed. "What made you think of it?" she asked.
+
+"Rosalind inquired the other day if I was the boy."
+
+"Allan, I don't know why I told the children that story."
+
+"At least it gave me the courage to try my fate."
+
+"I don't think it required much courage."
+
+"You don't know," Allan replied, smiling over her head. "But now, dearest,
+we are going to begin again and live in a fairy tale and forget all the
+hard and cruel things. Do you know, I had a vision that day, in the
+library of the old house? I saw a fire of blazing logs, and you and I sat
+before it, and we weren't quarrelling."
+
+"Dear old house! I can't bear to look at it now," Celia sighed.
+
+"I am sorry to hear that, for I was planning to live there."
+
+"Allan--you? Wasn't it sold?"
+
+"I bought it through an agent. I thought perhaps I might want to sell
+again if--if things did not come out as I hoped."
+
+"Even then you were thinking about it?"
+
+"I have thought of nothing else since the day I saw you on the stairs with
+your arm around Belle."
+
+"How unhappy I was! I did not dream that you still cared. It seems so long
+ago. Did you know your mother came to see me, Allan?"
+
+"Yes. She has keen eyes; she knew what it meant to me. Poor mother!"
+
+"I thought I could never forgive, but I believe I do now,--not
+always,--but I shall after a while."
+
+Allan pressed his lips to the hand he held; then, still holding it, he
+took the little case from his pocket and put the sapphire ring on her
+finger. "I hope Cousin Betty will be satisfied now," he remarked.
+
+Celia looked down at the quaint old ring. "How much it seems to stand
+for!" she said. "Rosalind will be glad," she added. "Do you know, I did
+not realize how bitter and unhappy I was until I met her one day in the
+cemetery. Her eyes were so sweet, they made me ashamed."
+
+"She told me about it," Allan answered.
+
+"Not about the rose? Did she see that? Oh, Allan--but I picked it up again
+and carried it home."
+
+"She long since came to the conclusion that she was mistaken in thinking
+it was her rose you threw away."
+
+It was growing dark. The magician, who had come in long ago, wisely
+refrained from interrupting his guests, but went about putting away his
+tools and smiling to himself. He was just lighting his lamp, when the shop
+door opened and Rosalind danced in, followed by her father.
+
+"Mr. Pat!" exclaimed the magician. "I heard you were here. I wondered if
+you wouldn't come to see me;" and he shook hinds as if he would never
+stop, while Rosalind circled around them merrily.
+
+"Mr. Pat was one of my boys," Morgan announced, as if it were a piece of
+news; adding, "We ought to make some tea."
+
+Rosalind clapped her hands, and nodded emphatically, "Let's!" she cried.
+"Why, there's Uncle Allan! Where did you come from?"
+
+"I arrived at home a few hours ago and found nobody, so I started out in
+search of some one. How are you, Patterson?" and the brothers clasped
+hands warmly.
+
+"We are going to have tea, just as I did that day when I was so lonely,
+and--here's Miss Celia!" Rosalind paused in surprise.
+
+Celia stood rather shyly in the door. She would gladly have escaped if she
+could.
+
+At Rosalind's exclamation, Allan drew his brother forward. "You remember
+Celia Fair, Patterson?" he said.
+
+"Certainly I do. She was about Rosalind's age when I last saw her."
+
+"I remember you very well, Mr. Whittredge," Celia said, as Patterson took
+both her hands, and looked into her glowing face.
+
+"I haven't been told anything, but--" he glanced inquiringly at Allan, who
+nodded, smiling.
+
+Rosalind caught sight of the ring on Celia's finger. "Oh," she said, "was
+that what the will meant? Are you going to wear it always? I know Aunt
+Patricia would be glad!" and she hugged Celia joyfully.
+
+That what followed was a childish performance cannot be denied, but alas
+for those who do not sometimes enjoy putting away grown-up dignity!
+Rosalind had set her heart on having tea, and the magician was no less
+pleased at the idea. He lighted up and filled the kettle, and she set the
+table, while the others looked on and laughed.
+
+"I began being a boy again four months ago, and I like it. How old are
+you?" Allan asked, passing Celia her cup.
+
+"About six," she answered.
+
+"Then I am ten."
+
+"Then you are too little for me to play with," said Rosalind. "How old are
+you, father?"
+
+"If Allan is ten I ought to be about sixteen, I suppose."
+
+"Here's to the magician!" cried Allan, and they drank the cabinet-maker's
+health right merrily.
+
+"I drink to the ring which has come to its own again," said Rosalind's
+father; and so the fun went on.
+
+Celia forgot her shyness and was a happy little girl once more.
+
+"Let us drink to the Forest and all who have learned its secret," she
+proposed.
+
+In the midst of it all, Miss Betty walked in.
+
+"Well!" she exclaimed, "I think you might have asked me."
+
+"It isn't too late. This is an impromptu affair in honor of Patterson,"
+said Allan, offering her a chair.
+
+"You have no idea what a noise you are making," she said, greeting the
+stranger. "I had just come in from a guild meeting, and the unusual
+illumination and the sounds of hilarity were too much for my curiosity."
+Here her glance rested in evident surprise upon Celia.
+
+"Celia has something to show you, Cousin Betty," Allan said mercilessly,
+"and you are not to bother me about it any more."
+
+Miss Betty went around to Celia and kissed her. "It is what I have been
+hoping all along," she whispered.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER THIRTIETH.
+
+OAK LEAVES.
+
+"Bid me farewell."
+
+
+"I have something to tell you," said Belle, as the Arden Foresters walked
+up the hill toward the Gilpin place.
+
+"So have I," added Rosalind, "something lovely," and she waved a small
+package aloft.
+
+"Is it something for us?" Katherine asked.
+
+"Let Belle tell hers first. Mine must wait till we get to the oak tree."
+
+"It is about the ring. I have found out how it came to be in the spinet,"
+Belle announced.
+
+"Really? How?"
+
+"Lucy Brown, Aunt Milly's granddaughter, put it there," she began, all
+eagerness to tell her news. "Aunt Milly, you know, was Mr. Gilpin's cook,
+and Lucy had come in from the country to stay with her a few days, when he
+was taken ill. The morning he died she found the case with the ring in it
+under the library table, and she carried it into the drawing-room, where
+she was dusting, meaning to show it to her grandmother. Just as she had
+opened the spinet some one called to her to run for Dr. Fair, that Mr.
+Gilpin was dying, and in a great hurry she pushed the ring case under the
+strings and closed the lid and forgot all about it. She went home before
+anybody knew the ring was lost, and never thought of it again till she
+came to Friendship the other day and our Manda was telling her about the
+magician's finding it."
+
+"I am almost sorry we know how it happened," said Rosalind. "I liked to
+think the magician had really broken the spell."
+
+It was the last meeting of the Arden Foresters before Rosalind's
+departure, and in spite of the wintry day they decided it must be held
+under the oak tree; and little cared they for the weather as they rustled
+through the fallen leaves beneath the bare brown trees.
+
+"I believe it is going to snow," said Jack, turning up his collar.
+
+"If you'll stay we'll take you coasting down the Gilpin hill," Maurice
+added.
+
+"I am afraid if I waited it wouldn't snow," Rosalind answered, laughing,
+"And now I have something to show you." They had reached the arbor, and
+sitting down she opened the box she carried.
+
+"You know we have been wondering what we should do for badges when the
+leaves were gone. Just see what the president has sent!" and she displayed
+to their delighted gaze five small, enamelled oak leaves.
+
+If Dr. Hollingsworth was sensitive to compliments, his ears must have
+burned badly about this time. Belle summed them up by remarking, "I just
+believe he is almost the nicest man I ever knew."
+
+They stood together under the oak tree, and Rosalind pinned on the new
+badges. "Let's promise to be friends, whatever happens," she said,
+"because we know the Forest secret and have had such good times this
+summer."
+
+The sun shone out brightly for a moment as the wind swept over the
+hilltop, rattling the vines on Patricia's Arbor; under the autumn sky the
+winding river sparkled as gayly as when its banks were green; on the
+far-away stretch of yellow road the wintry sunshine lay; and under the red
+oak they clasped hands and promised to be friends always.
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MR. PAT'S LITTLE GIRL***
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+<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" />
+<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Mr. Pat's Little Girl, by Mary F. Leonard</title>
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+<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Mr. Pat's Little Girl, by Mary F. Leonard,
+Illustrated by Chase Emerson</h1>
+<pre>
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at <a href = "https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre>
+<p>Title: Mr. Pat's Little Girl</p>
+<p>       A Story of the Arden Foresters</p>
+<p>Author: Mary F. Leonard</p>
+<p>Release Date: March 31, 2005  [eBook #15511]</p>
+<p>Language: English</p>
+<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p>
+<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MR. PAT'S LITTLE GIRL***</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h4>E-text prepared by David Garcia, Emmy,<br />
+    and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (www.pgdp.net)<br />
+    from page images generously made available by<br />
+    the Kentuckiana Digital Library
+    (<a href="http://kdl.kyvl.org/">http://kdl.kyvl.org/</a>)</h4>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="10" style="background-color: #ccccff;">
+  <tr>
+    <td valign="top">
+      Note:
+    </td>
+    <td>
+      Images of the original pages are available through the Electronic
+      Text Collection of the Kentuckiana Digital Library. See<br />
+      <a href="http://kdl.kyvl.org/cgi/t/text/text-idx?;page=simpleext">
+      http://kdl.kyvl.org/cgi/t/text/text-idx?;page=simpleext</a>
+    </td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2"></a><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3"></a></p>
+
+<h1>Mr. Pat's Little Girl</h1>
+
+<h2><span class='smcap'> A Story of the Arden Foresters</span> </h2>
+
+<h3>BY</h3>
+<h2>MARY F. LEONARD</h2>
+
+<p class="center">AUTHOR OF <i>THE SPECTACLE MAN</i>, ETC.</p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>WITH ILLUSTRATIONS ST CHASE EMERSON</i></p>
+
+<p class="figcenter"><img src="./images/emblem.jpg" alt="emblem" title="emblem" /></p>
+
+<p class="center">W.A. WILDE COMPANY</p>
+
+<p class="center">BOSTON AND CHICAGO</p>
+<p class="figcenter"><img src="./images/divider.jpg" alt="divider" title="divider" /></p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p class="center"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4"></a>1902</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+
+<p class="figcenter"><img src="./images/divider.jpg" alt="divider" title="divider" /></p>
+
+
+<p class="center"><span class='smcap'> Mr. Pat's Little Girl.</span><br /> <a name="Page_5" id="Page_5"></a>
+<span class='smcap'> to</span><br />
+<span class='smcap'> A.E.F.</span><br />
+<span class='smcap'> in loving memory</span><br />
+<span class='smcap'> this story is lovingly dedicated</span><br />
+<span class='smcap'> by her niece</span>
+<a name="Page_6" id="Page_6"></a></p>
+
+<p class="figcenter"><img src="./images/divider.jpg" alt="divider" title="divider" /></p>
+
+<p class="figcenter"><a href="./images/1.jpg"><img src="./images/1-tb.jpg" alt="&quot;HOW SWEET THE BREATH BENEATH THE HILL OF SHARON'S LOVELY ROSE.&quot;" title="&quot;HOW SWEET THE BREATH BENEATH THE HILL OF SHARON'S LOVELY ROSE.&quot;" /></a><a name="HOW_SWEET_THE_BREATH" id="HOW_SWEET_THE_BREATH" ></a></p>
+<p class='center'>"HOW SWEET THE BREATH BENEATH THE HILL OF SHARON'S LOVELY ROSE."</p>
+<p><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7"></a></p>
+
+<p class="figcenter"><img src="./images/divider.jpg" alt="divider" title="divider" /></p>
+
+<h2>CONTENTS.</h2>
+
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents">
+<tr><td align='center'>CHAPTER</td>
+<td align='left'></td>
+<td align='center'>PAGE</td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_FIRST"><b>I.</b></a></td>
+<td align='left'><span class='smcap'>Things Begin to Happen</span></td>
+<td align='right'><a href="#Page_11"><b>11</b></a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'></td>
+<td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">&quot;<i>A magician most profound in his art.</i>&quot;</span></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_SECOND"><b>II.</b></a></td>
+<td align='left'><span class='smcap'>On the Other Side of the Hedge</span></td>
+<td align='right'><a href="#Page_21"><b>21</b></a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='left'></td>
+<td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">&quot;<i>Give me leave to speak my mind.</i>&quot;</span></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_THIRD"><b>III.</b></a></td>
+<td align='left'><span class='smcap'>Friendship</span></td>
+<td align='right'><a href="#Page_32"><b>32</b></a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='left'></td>
+<td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">&quot;<i>True it is that we have seen better days.</i>&quot;</span></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_FOURTH"><b>IV.</b></a></td>
+<td align='left'><span class='smcap'>An Unquiet Morning</span></td>
+<td align='right'><a href="#Page_41"><b>41</b></a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='left'></td>
+<td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">&quot;<i>You amaze me, ladies!</i>&quot;</span></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_FIFTH"><b>V.</b></a></td>
+<td align='left'><span class='smcap'>Maurice</span></td>
+<td align='right'><a href="#Page_50"><b>50</b></a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='left'></td>
+<td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">&quot;<i>The stubbornness of fortune.</i>&quot;</span></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_SIXTH"><b>VI.</b></a></td>
+<td align='left'><span class='smcap'>Puzzles</span></td>
+<td align='right'><a href="#Page_62"><b>62</b></a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='left'></td>
+<td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">&quot;<i>How weary are my spirits.</i>&quot;</span></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_SEVENTH"><b>VII.</b></a></td>
+<td align='left'><span class='smcap'>The Magician Makes Tea</span></td>
+<td align='right'><a href="#Page_74"><b>74</b></a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='left'></td>
+<td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">&quot;<i>If that love or gold</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;"><i>Can in this place buy entertainment,</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;"><i>Bring us where we may rest ourselves and feed.</i>&quot;</span></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_EIGHTH"><b>VIII.</b></a></td>
+<td align='left'><span class='smcap'>&quot;To Meet Rosalind&quot;</span></td>
+<td align='right'><a href="#Page_85"><b>85</b></a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='left'></td>
+<td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">&quot;<i>Put you in your best array.</i>&quot;</span></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_NINTH"><b>IX.</b></a></td>
+<td align='left'><span class='smcap'>The Lost Ring</span></td>
+<td align='right'><a href="#Page_100"><b>100</b></a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='left'></td>
+<td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">&quot;<i>Wear this for me.</i>&quot;</span></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_TENTH"><b>X.</b></a></td>
+<td align='left'><span class='smcap'>Celia</span></td>
+<td align='right'><a href="#Page_110"><b>110</b></a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='left'></td>
+<td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">&quot;<i>One out of suits with fortune.</i>&quot;</span></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_ELEVENTH"><b>XI.</b></a></td>
+<td align='left'><span class='smcap'>Making Friends</span></td>
+<td align='right'><a href="#Page_118"><b>118</b></a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='left'></td>
+<td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">&quot;<i>Is not that neighborly?</i>&quot;</span></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_TWELFTH"><b>XII.</b></a></td>
+<td align='left'><span class='smcap'>The Gilpin Place</span></td>
+<td align='right'><a href="#Page_127"><b>127</b></a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='left'></td>
+<td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">&quot;<i>This is the Forest of Arden.</i>&quot;</span></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_THIRTEENTH"><b>XIII.</b></a></td>
+<td align='left'><span class='smcap'>In Patricia's Arbor</span></td>
+<td align='right'><a href="#Page_141"><b>141</b></a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='left'></td>
+<td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">&quot;<i>O, how full of briers is this working-day world.</i>&quot;</span></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_FOURTEENTH"><b>XIV.</b></a></td>
+<td align='left'><span class='smcap'>The Arden Foresters</span></td>
+<td align='right'><a href="#Page_147"><b>147</b></a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='left'></td>
+<td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">&quot;<i>Like the old Robin Hood of England.</i>&quot;</span><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8"></a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_FIFTEENTH"><b>XV.</b></a></td>
+<td align='left'><span class='smcap'>A New Member</span></td>
+<td align='right'><a href="#Page_158"><b>158</b></a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='left'></td>
+<td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">&quot;<i>In the circle of this forest.</i>&quot;</span></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_SIXTEENTH"><b>XVI.</b></a></td>
+<td align='left'><span class='smcap'>Reciprocity</span></td>
+<td align='right'><a href="#Page_171"><b>171</b></a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='left'></td>
+<td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">&quot;<i>Take upon command what we have.</i>&quot;</span></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_SEVENTEENTH"><b>XVII.</b></a></td>
+<td align='left'><span class='smcap'>A New Comrade</span></td>
+<td align='right'><a href="#Page_182"><b>182</b></a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='left'></td>
+<td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">&quot;<i>I know you are a gentleman of good conceit.</i>&quot;</span></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_EIGHTEENTH"><b>XVIII.</b></a></td>
+<td align='left'><span class='smcap'>An Imprisoned Maiden</span></td>
+<td align='right'><a href="#Page_198"><b>198</b></a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='left'></td>
+<td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">&quot;<i>The house doth keep itself,</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;"><i>There's none within.&quot;</i></span></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_NINETEENTH"><b>XIX.</b></a></td>
+<td align='left'><span class='smcap'>Old Acquaintance</span></td>
+<td align='right'><a href="#Page_212"><b>212</b></a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='left'></td>
+<td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">&quot;<i>And there begins my sadness.</i>&quot;</span></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_TWENTIETH"><b>XX.</b></a></td>
+<td align='left'><span class='smcap'>The Spinet</span></td>
+<td align='right'><a href="#Page_222"><b>222</b></a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='left'></td>
+<td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">&quot;<i>Though art not for the fashion of these times.</i>&quot;</span></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_TWENTY_FIRST"><b>XXI.</b></a></td>
+<td align='left'><span class='smcap'>&quot;Under the Greenwood Tree&quot;</span></td>
+<td align='right'><a href="#Page_225"><b>225</b></a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='left'></td>
+<td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">&quot;<i>Must you then be proud and pitiless?</i>&quot;</span></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_TWENTY_SECOND"><b>XXII.</b></a></td>
+<td align='left'><span class='smcap'>Circumstantial Evidence</span></td>
+<td align='right'><a href="#Page_242"><b>242</b></a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='left'></td>
+<td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">&quot;<i>I sometimes do believe and sometimes do not.</i>&quot;</span></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_TWENTY_THIRD"><b>XXIII.</b></a></td>
+<td align='left'><span class='smcap'>The Detective</span></td>
+<td align='right'><a href="#Page_254"><b>254</b></a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='left'></td>
+<td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">&quot;<i>'Twas I, but 'tis not I.</i>&quot;</span></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_TWENTY_FOURTH"><b>XXIV.</b></a></td>
+<td align='left'><span class='smcap'>At The Auction</span></td>
+<td align='right'><a href="#Page_265"><b>265</b></a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='left'></td>
+<td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">&quot;<i>Assuredly the thing is to be sold.</i>&quot;</span></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_TWENTY_FIFTH"><b>XXV.</b></a></td>
+<td align='left'><span class='smcap'>Questions</span></td>
+<td align='right'><a href="#Page_276"><b>276</b></a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='left'></td>
+<td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">&quot;<i>They asked one another the reason.</i>&quot;</span></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_TWENTY_SIXTH"><b>XXVI.</b></a></td>
+<td align='left'><span class='smcap'>The President</span></td>
+<td align='right'><a href="#Page_284"><b>284</b></a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='left'></td>
+<td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">&quot;&mdash;<i>And good in everything.</i>&quot;</span></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_TWENTY_SEVENTH"><b>XXVII.</b></a></td>
+<td align='left'><span class='smcap'>Old Enemies</span></td>
+<td align='right'><a href="#Page_294"><b>294</b></a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='left'></td>
+<td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">&quot;<i>Kindness nobler ever than revenge.</i>&quot;</span></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_TWENTY_EIGHTH"><b>XXVIII.</b></a></td>
+<td align='left'><span class='smcap'>Better Than Dreams</span></td>
+<td align='right'><a href="#Page_298"><b>298</b></a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='left'></td>
+<td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">&quot;<i>I like this place.</i>&quot;</span></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_TWENTY_NINTH"><b>XXIX.</b></a></td>
+<td align='left'><span class='smcap'>At the Magician's</span></td>
+<td align='right'><a href="#Page_308"><b>308</b></a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='left'></td>
+<td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">&quot;<i>I would have you.</i>&quot;</span></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='right'><a href="#CHAPTER_THIRTIETH"><b>XXX.</b></a></td>
+<td align='left'><span class='smcap'>Oak Leaves</span></td>
+<td align='right'><a href="#Page_319"><b>319</b></a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='left'></td>
+<td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">&quot;<i>Bid me farewell.</i>&quot;</span></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+<p><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9"></a></p>
+
+<p class="figcenter"><img src="./images/divider.jpg" alt="divider" title="divider" /></p>
+
+<h2>
+ILLUSTRATIONS.</h2>
+
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Illustration List">
+<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='right'>PAGE</td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='left'>&quot;'How sweet the breath beneath the hill<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Of Sharon's lovely rose'&quot;</span></td>
+<td align='right'><i>Frontispiece</i>&nbsp; <a href="#HOW_SWEET_THE_BREATH"><b>12</b></a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='left'>&quot;Do you know Miss Betty?&quot;</td>
+<td align='right'><a href="#DO_YOU"><b>78</b></a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='left'>&quot;Looking up, he discovered his visitors&quot;</td>
+<td align='right'><a href="#LOOKING_UP"><b>153</b></a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='left'>&quot;They crossed over to speak to her&quot;</td>
+<td align='right'><a href="#THEY_CROSSED_OVER_TO_SPEAK"><b>193</b></a></td></tr>
+
+<tr><td align='left'>&quot;She chose a chest of drawers&quot;</td>
+<td align='right'><a href="#SHE_CHOSE"><b>268</b></a></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+
+
+<p><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10"></a><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11"></a></p>
+
+<p class="figcenter"><img src="./images/divider.jpg" alt="divider" title="divider" /></p>
+
+<h2>Mr Pat's Little Girl</h2>
+
+
+
+<p class="figcenter"><img src="./images/divider.jpg" alt="divider" title="divider" /></p>
+
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_FIRST" id="CHAPTER_FIRST" ></a>CHAPTER FIRST.</h2>
+
+<h3>THINGS BEGIN TO HAPPEN.</h3>
+
+<p class="center">&quot;A magician most profound in his art.&quot;</p>
+
+
+<p>It was Sunday afternoon. The griffins on the doorstep stared straight
+before them with an expression of utter indifference; the feathery foliage
+of the white birch swayed gently back and forth; the peonies lifted their
+crimson heads airily; the snowball bush bent under the weight of its white
+blooms till it swept the grass; the fountain splashed softly.</p>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Hymn">
+<tr><td align='left'>&quot;'By cool Siloam's shady rill</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">How fair the lily grows,'&quot;</span></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<p>Rosalind chanted dreamily.</p>
+
+<p>Grandmamma had given her the hymn book, telling her to choose a hymn and
+commit it to memory, and as she turned the pages this had caught her eye
+and pleased her fancy.<a name="Page_12" id="Page_12"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;It sounds like the Forest of Arden,&quot; she said, leaning back on the garden
+bench and shutting her eyes.</p>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="How sweet the breath">
+<tr><td align='left'>&quot;'How sweet the breath beneath the hill</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">Of Sharon's lovely rose.'&quot;</span></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<p>She swung her foot in time to the rhythm. She was not sure whether a rill
+was a fountain or a stream, so she decided, as there was no dictionary
+convenient, to think of it as like the creek where it crossed the road at
+the foot of Red Hill.</p>
+
+<p>Again she looked at the book; skipping a stanza, she read:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="By Siloam's shady rill">
+<tr><td align='left'>&quot;'By cool Siloam's shady rill</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">The lily must decay;</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: .5em;">The rose that blooms beneath the hill</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">Must shortly pass away.'&quot;</span></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<p>The melancholy of this was interesting; at the same time it reminded her
+that she was lonely. After repeating, &quot;Must shortly pass away,&quot; her eyes
+unexpectedly filled with tears.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now I am not going to cry,&quot; she said sternly, and by way of carrying out
+this resolve she again closed her eyes tight. It was desperately hard
+work, and she could not have told whether two minutes or ten had passed
+when she was startled <a name="Page_13" id="Page_13"></a>by an odd, guttural voice close to her asking,
+&quot;What is the matter, little girl?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>If the voice was strange, the figure she saw when she looked up was
+stranger still. A gaunt old man in a suit of rusty black, with straggling
+gray hair and beard, stood holding his hat in his hand, gazing at her with
+eyes so bright they made her uneasy.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Nothing,&quot; she answered, rising hastily.</p>
+
+<p>But the visitor continued to stand there and smile at her, shaking his
+head and repeating, &quot;Mustn't cry.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I am not crying,&quot; Rosalind insisted, glancing over her shoulder to make
+sure of a way of escape.</p>
+
+<p>With a long, thin finger this strange person now pointed toward the house,
+saying something she understood to be an inquiry for Miss Herbert.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Herbert was the housekeeper, and Rosalind knew she was at church; but
+when she tried to explain, the old man shook his head, and taking from his
+pocket a tablet with a pencil attached, he held it out to her, touching
+his ear as he uttered the one word &quot;Deaf.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Rosalind understood she was to write her answer, and somewhat flurried she
+sat down on the <a name="Page_14" id="Page_14"></a>edge of the bench and with much deliberation and in large
+clear letters conveyed the information, &quot;She is out.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The old man looked at the tablet and then at Rosalind, bowing and smiling
+as if well pleased. &quot;You'll tell her I'm going to the city to-morrow?&quot; he
+asked.</p>
+
+<p>There was something very queer in the way he opened his mouth and used his
+tongue, Rosalind thought, as she nodded emphatically, feeling that this
+singular individual had her at an unfair advantage. At least she would
+find out who he was, and so, as she still held the tablet, she wrote,
+&quot;What is your name?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>He laughed as if this were a joke, and searching in his pocket, produced a
+card which he presented with a bow. On it was printed &quot;C.J. Morgan,
+Cabinet Work.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What is your name?&quot; he asked.</p>
+
+<p>Rosalind hesitated. She was not sure it at all concerned this stranger to
+know her name, but as he stood smiling and waiting, she did not know how
+to refuse; so she bent over the tablet, her yellow braid falling over her
+shoulder, as she wrote, &quot;Rosalind Patterson Whittredge.&quot;<a name="Page_15" id="Page_15"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;Mr. Pat's daughter?&quot; There was a twinkle in the old man's eye, and
+surprise and delight in his voice.</p>
+
+<p>Rosalind sprang up, her own eyes shining. &quot;How stupid of me!&quot; she cried.
+&quot;Why, you must be the magician, and you have a funny old shop, where
+father used to play when he was little. Oh, I hope you will let me come to
+see you!&quot; Suddenly remembering the tablet, she looked at it despairingly.
+She couldn't write half she wished to say.</p>
+
+<p>Morgan, however, seemed to understand pretty clearly, to judge from the
+way he laughed and asked if Mr. Pat was well.</p>
+
+<p>Rosalind nodded and wrote, &quot;He has gone to Japan.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;So far? Coming home soon?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>With a mournful countenance she shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>Morgan stood looking down on her with a smile that no longer seemed
+uncanny. Indeed, there was something almost sweet in the rugged face as he
+repeated, &quot;Mr. Pat's little girl, well, well,&quot; as if it were quite
+incredible.</p>
+
+<p>Rosalind longed to ask at least a dozen questions, but <a name="Page_16" id="Page_16"></a>it is dampening to
+one's ardor to have to spell every word, and she only nodded and smiled in
+her turn as she handed back the tablet.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I wish father had taught me to talk on my fingers,&quot; she thought, feeling
+that one branch of her education had been neglected. &quot;Perhaps Uncle Allan
+will, when he comes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>She watched the odd figure till it disappeared around a turn in the trim
+garden path, then she picked up the big red pillow which had fallen on the
+grass, and replacing it in one corner of the bench, curled herself up
+against it. The hymn book lay forgotten.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I believe things are really beginning to happen,&quot; she said to herself.
+&quot;You need not pretend they are not, for they are,&quot; she added, shaking her
+finger at the griffins with their provoking lack of expression. &quot;You
+wouldn't make friends with anybody, not to save their lives, and it seemed
+as if I were never to get acquainted with a soul, when here I have met the
+magician in the most surprising way. And to think I didn't know him!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The dream spirit was abroad in the garden. Across <a name="Page_17" id="Page_17"></a>the lawn the shadows
+made mysterious progress; the sunlight seemed sifted through an enchanted
+veil, and like the touch of fairy fingers was the summer breeze against
+Rosalind's cheek, as with her head against the red pillow, she travelled
+for the first time in her life back into the past.</p>
+
+<p>Back to the dear old library where two students worked, and where from the
+windows one could see the tiled roofs of the university. Back to the world
+of dreams where dwelt that friendly host of story-book people, where only
+a few short weeks ago Friendship, too, with its winding shady streets and
+this same stately garden and the griffins, had belonged as truly as did
+the Forest where that other Rosalind, loveliest of all story people,
+wandered.</p>
+
+<p>Friendship was no longer a dream, and Rosalind, her head against the red
+pillow, was beginning to think that dreams were best.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;If we choose, we may travel always in the Forest, where the birds sing
+and the sunlight sifts through the trees.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>These words of Cousin Louis's in his introduction to the old story pleased
+Rosalind's fancy. She <a name="Page_18" id="Page_18"></a>liked to shut her eyes and think of the Forest and
+the brave-hearted company gathered there, and always this brought before
+her the fair face of the miniature on her father's desk and a faint, sweet
+memory of clasping arms.</p>
+
+<p>When the doctor with a grave face had said that only rest and change of
+scene could restore Cousin Louis's health, and when Rosalind understood
+that this must mean for her separation from both her dear companions, it
+was to the Forest she had turned.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'll pretend I am banished like Rosalind in the story,&quot; she had said,
+leaning against her father's shoulder, as he looked over the proofs of
+&quot;The Life of Shakespeare&quot; on which Cousin Louis had worked too hard. &quot;Then
+I'll know I am certain to find you sometime.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Her father's arm had drawn her close,&mdash;she liked to recall it now, and
+how, when she added, &quot;But I wish I had Celia and Touchstone to go with
+me,&quot; he had answered, &quot;You are certain to find pleasant people in the
+Forest of Arden, little girl.&quot; And putting aside the proofs, he had talked
+to her of her grandmother and the old town of Friendship.<a name="Page_19" id="Page_19"></a></p>
+
+<p>She had been almost a week in Friendship now, and&mdash;well, things were not
+altogether as she had pictured them. Silver locks and lace caps,
+arm-chairs and some sort of fluffy knitting work, had been a part of her
+idea of a grandmother, and lo! her own grandmother was erect and slender,
+with not a thread of gray in her dark hair, nor a line in her handsome
+face.</p>
+
+<p>She was kind&mdash;oh, yes, but so sad in her heavy crepe. Aunt Genevieve in
+her trailing gowns was charming to behold, but no more company for
+Rosalind&mdash;at least not much more&mdash;than the griffins. Miss Herbert was not
+a merry, comfortable person like their own Mrs. Browne at home. The house
+was very quiet. The garden was beautiful, but she longed to be outside its
+tall iron gates; and she longed&mdash;how she longed&mdash;for her old companions!</p>
+
+<p>Cousin Louis had given her her favorite story in a binding of soft
+leather, delicious to hold against one's cheek, and her father had added a
+copy of the beautiful miniature. With these treasures she had set out upon
+her journey. But she had begun to feel as if in the great Forest <a name="Page_20" id="Page_20"></a>she had
+lost her way, when the friendly face of the magician reassured her.</p>
+
+<p>The sound of sweeping draperies broke in upon her thoughts. It was Aunt
+Genevieve, and she had not learned her hymn. Picking up her book, she
+stole swiftly across the grass till she was hidden by some tall shrubbery.
+Before her was a high hedge of privet; beyond it, among the trees, the
+chimneys of a red brick house.</p>
+
+<p>Walking back and forth, Rosalind began to study in earnest. Looking first
+at her book and then up at the blue sky, she repeated:&mdash;</p>
+
+
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="'Lo! such the child">
+<tr><td align='left'>&quot;'Lo! such the child whose early feet</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">The paths of peace have trod.</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: .5em;">Whose secret heart with influence sweet</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">Is upward drawn to God.'&quot;</span></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+<p><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21"></a></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_SECOND" id="CHAPTER_SECOND" ></a>CHAPTER SECOND.</h2>
+
+<h3>ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE HEDGE.</h3>
+
+<p class='center'>&quot;Give me leave to speak my mind.&quot;</p>
+
+
+<p>There was another garden on the other side of the hedge; not so large, nor
+so beautifully kept perhaps, but a pleasant garden, for all that. The red
+brick house to which it belonged was by no means so stately as the one
+whose doorstep the griffins guarded, yet it had an importance all its own.
+On week days, when the heavy shutters on the lower front windows were
+open, <i>The National Bank of Friendship</i> was to be seen in gilt letters on
+the glass; on Sundays, however, when they were closed, there was little to
+suggest that it was anything more than a private dwelling. It was a
+square, roomy house, and the part not in use for bank purposes was
+occupied by the cashier, Mr. Milton Roberts, and his family.<a name="Page_22" id="Page_22"></a></p>
+
+<p>While Rosalind, curled up on the garden seat, was thinking of home,
+Maurice Roberts lay in the hammock under the big maple near the side
+porch, where his mother and Miss Betty Bishop sat talking. He held a book,
+but instead of reading was allowing himself the lazy entertainment of
+listening to their conversation.</p>
+
+<p>From his position, a little behind the visitor, he had an excellent view
+of her as she sat erect in the wicker chair, her parasol across her lap.
+Miss Betty was plump and short, and had a dimple in her chin. Her hair,
+which was turning gray, waved prettily back from her forehead into the
+thickest of braids, and altogether there was a pleasant air of crispness
+about her; though something in the keenness of her glance, or the firmness
+with which her lips met, suggested that on occasion she might be
+unyielding. &quot;The Barnwell stubbornness,&quot; she herself would have explained,
+with the same complacency she manifested when displaying her grandmother's
+tea-set.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Roberts, Maurice's mother, was a gentle person, with large, soft eyes
+and a quiet manner.</p>
+
+<p>The preliminary conversation had not been <a name="Page_23" id="Page_23"></a>interesting, pertaining chiefly
+to flowers and the weather, and Maurice gave a sigh of satisfaction when,
+after a moment's pause, Miss Betty straightened herself and remarked,
+&quot;Well, I hear the will is certain to be sustained.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then the property will have to be sold?&quot; questioned Mrs. Roberts.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, and I may as well say good-by to the cream-jug and sugar-dish that
+Cousin Anne always said should be mine. Still, I never shall believe
+Cousin Thomas was out of his mind when he made that last will, it was too
+much like him. Dear knows it ought to be broken, but not on that ground.
+It was a case of pure spite.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, Betty!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Maurice smiled to himself at his mother's tone.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I assure you it was. I knew Cousin Thomas. Didn't Cousin Anne tell me
+dozens of times in his presence, 'Betty, this is your cream-jug and
+sugar-dish, because they match your teapot'?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I should think you had enough silver, Betty; still it was a shame Miss
+Anne left that list unsigned,&quot; said Mrs. Roberts.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;If you knew Cousin Anne at all, Mrs. Roberts, you <a name="Page_24" id="Page_24"></a>knew how hesitating
+she was. She couldn't decide whether to leave the Canton china to Ellen
+Marshall or to Tom's wife. She changed her mind any number of times, but
+she was always clear about my cream-jug and sugar-dish. If Cousin Thomas
+had had any decency, he would have considered her wishes. Think of my own
+grandmother's things put up at public auction!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Most of Mr. Gilpin's money goes to the hospital, I suppose,&quot; remarked
+Mrs. Roberts.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Pretty much everything but the real estate in and around Friendship, and
+the contents of the house, all of which will have to be sold and divided
+among his first cousins or their heirs. The only bequests made besides the
+money to the hospital are to Celia Fair and Allan Whittredge. Celia is to
+have the spinet, and Allan that beautiful old ring, if ever it comes to
+light again. I wish Cousin Thomas had left Celia some money. She was one
+person for whom he had a little affection.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Maurice wished so too. He admired Miss Celia Fair, and felt it was too bad
+she should get only an antiquated piano.<a name="Page_25" id="Page_25"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;Are the Fairs related to the Gilpins?&quot; his mother asked. Not being a
+native of Friendship, she had difficulty in mastering the intricacies of
+its relationships.</p>
+
+<p>It was ground upon which Miss Betty was entirely at home, however. &quot;They
+were kin to Cousin Thomas's wife,&quot; she explained. &quot;Mrs. Fair's grandmother
+was half-sister to Cousin Emma's mother, and raised Cousin Emma as her own
+child. Of course it is not very near when it comes to Celia. The spinet
+belonged to old Mrs. Johnson,&mdash;Celia's great-grandmother, you know,&mdash;whose
+name was also Celia. Saint Cecilia, they used to call her, because she was
+so good and played and sang so sweetly. It is right the spinet should go
+to Celia, but that would not have influenced Cousin Thomas a minute if he
+had not wished her to have it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And the ring has never been heard of?&quot; Mrs. Roberts asked, as her visitor
+paused for breath.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I doubt if it ever comes to light. It is nearly three years now since it
+disappeared,&quot; was the reply. Miss Betty looked up at the vines above her
+head, and her lips curled into a sort of <a name="Page_26" id="Page_26"></a>half smile. &quot;I should like to
+hear Cousin Ellen Whittredge on the will,&quot; she added. &quot;I don't think she
+cares much about the money, however; it is more that old feeling against
+Dr. Fair. You remember he testified to Mr. Gilpin's sanity.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And her son?&quot; asked Mrs. Roberts.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Allan? It is hard to find out what Allan thinks, but there is no
+bitterness in him. He is like his father, poor man! What I am curious to
+know is, what Cousin Thomas meant by saying in his will that Allan knew
+his wishes in regard to the ring. That strikes me as a little sensational.
+I asked Allan about it the last time I saw him, but he only laughed and
+said he'd have to get it before he could dispose of it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Betty now made some motions preliminary to rising, but as if on
+second thought, she laid her parasol across her knees again and asked,
+&quot;Have you heard that Patterson's daughter is here?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, I think I saw her in the carriage with her grandmother yesterday,&quot;
+was Mrs. Roberts's reply.<a name="Page_27" id="Page_27"></a></p>
+
+<p>This was news to Maurice, and he listened with interest.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Betty shook her head. &quot;I am surprised,&quot; she said. &quot;That marriage of
+Patterson's was a dreadful blow to Cousin Ellen.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It seems to me she was unreasonable about it. I am glad she sent for him
+before his father died.&quot; Mrs. Roberts spoke with some hesitation. She did
+not often array her own opinions against those of her friends.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I don't blame her as some do. A person of that sort, and Patterson the
+very light of her eyes! How would you feel if Maurice some day should do a
+thing like that?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Maurice laughed softly. His thoughts were not much occupied with marriage.
+His mother ignored the question, and in her turn asked, &quot;Did Mrs.
+Whittredge ever see her daughter-in-law?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, indeed. This child was not more than three when she died.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Poor little thing!&quot; Mrs. Roberts sighed.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Such a name! I detest fancy names. Rosalind!&quot; Miss Betty rose.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;A good old English name and very pretty, I think. Was it her mother's?&quot;<a name="Page_28" id="Page_28"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;I suppose so, but I don't know. Yes, I must go; Sophy will think I am
+lost. Good-by,&quot; and Miss Betty stepped briskly down the path.</p>
+
+<p>The gate had hardly closed when Maurice heard some one calling him.
+Looking over his shoulder, he saw his sister Katherine beckoning.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Maurice, Maurice, do come here; I want you to see something.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Her tone impressed him as unduly mysterious. &quot;What is it?&quot; he asked
+indifferently.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Come, and I'll show you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I sha'n't come till you tell me,&quot; he persisted.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, I think you might, because if I stop to tell you she may be gone.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Who'll be gone? You might have told it twice over in this time.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The girl I want you to see,&quot; explained Katherine, drawing nearer in
+desperation. &quot;Did you know there was a girl next door?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, of course.&quot; There was nothing in Maurice's tone to indicate how
+brief a time had passed since this information had been acquired.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Truly? I don't believe it,&quot; Katherine faltered.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;She is Mrs. Whittredge's granddaughter, and her name is Rosalind, so
+now!&quot;<a name="Page_29" id="Page_29"></a></p>
+
+<p>Privately, Katherine thought her brother's power of finding things out,
+little short of supernatural. &quot;Don't you want to see her?&quot; she asked
+meekly. &quot;There is a thin place in the hedge behind the calycanthus bush,
+and she is walking to and fro studying something.&quot; Would Maurice declare
+he had already seen this girl?</p>
+
+<p>Maurice sat up and reached for a crutch that rested against the tree. He
+had his share of curiosity. He was a tall, well-grown boy of thirteen, and
+it was apparent as he swung himself after Katherine, that accident and not
+disease had caused his lameness.</p>
+
+<p>Rosalind, studying her hymn all unconscious of observation, was a pleasant
+sight.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Isn't she pretty?&quot; whispered Katherine, but Maurice silenced her so
+sternly she concluded he did not agree with her.</p>
+
+<p>In reality he thought very much as she did, although he would not have
+used the same adjective. There was something unusual about this girl. Why
+it was, he did not understand, but she seemed somehow to belong in a
+special way to the sweet old garden with its June roses. Maurice had
+fancies that would have astonished Katherine <a name="Page_30" id="Page_30"></a>beyond measure if she could
+have known anything about them. But how was she to know when he pinched
+her arm and looked sternly indifferent?</p>
+
+<p>The tea bell called them back to the house; on the way Katherine's
+enthusiasm burst forth afresh.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Isn't she sweet? and such a beautiful name&mdash;Rosalind. How old do you
+think she is? and do you suppose she is going to live there? Oh, Maurice,
+shouldn't you be afraid of Mrs. Whittredge?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I don't know anything about her,&quot; Maurice replied, forgetting for the
+moment that he bad been pretending to know a great deal.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I should like to have my hair tied on top of my head with a big ribbon
+bow as hers is,&quot; continued Katherine, who would innocently persist in
+laying herself open to brotherly scorn.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I suppose you think you will look like her then,&quot; was his retort.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now, Maurice, I don't. I know I am not pretty.&quot; Katharine's round face
+grew suddenly long, and tears filled her blue eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Don't be a goose, then. I'll tell you what <a name="Page_31" id="Page_31"></a>she made me think of, that
+statue of Joan of Arc&mdash;don't you remember? Where she is listening to the
+voices? We saw it at the Academy of Fine Arts.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, Maurice, how funny! She is much prettier than that,&quot; said
+Katherine.<a name="Page_32" id="Page_32"></a></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_THIRD" id="CHAPTER_THIRD" ></a>CHAPTER THIRD.</h2>
+
+<h3>FRIENDSHIP.</h3>
+
+<p class='center'>&quot;True it is that we have seen better days.&quot;</p>
+
+
+<p>A rambling, sleepy town was Friendship, with few aspirations beyond the
+traditions of its grandfathers and a fine indifference toward modern
+improvements.</p>
+
+<p>During the era of monstrous creations in black walnut it had clung to its
+old mahogany and rosewood, and chromos had never displaced in its
+affections the time-worn colored prints of little Samuel or flower-decked
+shepherdesses. In consequence of this conservatism Friendship one day
+awoke in the fashion.</p>
+
+<p>There were fine old homes in Friendship which in their soft-toned browns
+and grays seemed as much a part of the landscape as the forest trees that
+surrounded them and shaded the broad street. Associated with these
+mansions <a name="Page_33" id="Page_33"></a>were names dignified and substantial, such as Molesworth,
+Parton, Gilpin, Whittredge.</p>
+
+<p>In times past the atmosphere of the village had seemed to be pervaded by
+something of the spirit of its name, for here life flowed on serenely in
+old grooves and its ways were the peaceful ways of friendship. But of late
+years, alas! something alien and discordant had crept in.</p>
+
+<p class='center'>
+'&quot;And what is Friendship but a name&mdash;'&quot;
+</p>
+
+<p>quoted the cabinet-maker sadly one morning when after climbing the hill
+from the wharf he paused to rest on the low stone wall surrounding the
+Gilpin place.</p>
+
+<p>Landing Lane ended at the top of the hill, and here at right angles to it
+the Main Street of Friendship might be said to begin, slowly descending to
+a level and following the leisurely curves of the old stage road till it
+came to a straggling end at the foot of another prominence known as Red
+Hill.</p>
+
+<p>In forty years a life takes deep root, and this time had passed since
+Morgan, a raw Scotch boy of eighteen, had come to Friendship as <a name="Page_34" id="Page_34"></a>assistant
+to the village cabinet-maker. A year or two later an illness deprived him
+of his hearing, but fortunately not of his skill, and upon the death of
+his employer he succeeded to the business, his kindly, simple nature,
+together with his misfortune, having won the heart of Friendship.</p>
+
+<p>His fame for making and doing over furniture had spread beyond the borders
+of the town; his opinion was valued highly by collectors, and it was said
+he might have made a fortune in the city. But what use had he for a
+fortune? It was the friendly greetings, the neighborly kindnesses, the
+comradeship with the children of the village, that made his life.</p>
+
+<p>In spite of its rugged lines his face as he grew older had taken on a
+singularly sweet expression, but it was sad to-day as he sat on the wall
+in his knit jacket and work apron, looking down on the town, its roofs and
+spires showing amongst the trees. It seemed to him that the times were out
+of joint, and his cheerful philosophy was beginning to fail him. Something
+had been wrong ever since Patterson Whittredge went away, more than a
+dozen years ago.<a name="Page_35" id="Page_35"></a></p>
+
+<p>Morgan never failed to follow with interest the careers of the boys of
+Friendship as they went out into the world, and of all the boys of the
+village Patterson had been his favorite. He had understood the trouble as
+well as if it had been carefully explained to him. His deafness had
+quickened his insight. A girl's lovely face on Pat's dressing-table, seen
+when he replaced a broken caster, partly told the story, and Mrs.
+Whittredge's pride and determination were no secret to any one.</p>
+
+<p>Judge Whittredge's whitening head and heavy step, his fruitless search for
+health abroad, his return to die at last in his old home, Patterson's
+coming,&mdash;sent for by his heart-broken mother,&mdash;this was the rest of the
+story. But before this family difference had been settled by the stern
+hand of death, the removal of Thomas Gilpin had precipitated another
+quarrel upon the town.</p>
+
+<p>It was a puzzle to Morgan that a man like his old friend Mr. Gilpin, who
+had it in his power to do so much good, should have chosen to do harm
+instead. As he rose to go, he looked over his shoulder at the old house,
+closed and deserted since the death of its owner.<a name="Page_36" id="Page_36"></a></p>
+
+<p>The site was a beautiful one, commanding a view of valley and hill and the
+narrow winding river. The house, an unpretentious square of red brick,
+with sloping roof and dormer windows, wore its hundred years with dignity,
+and amid its fine trees was an object of interest to strangers, of pride
+to the villagers.</p>
+
+<p>Below it on the slope stood a more modern house, in what had been until
+recently a handsome garden. Morgan, as he passed recalled how proud Dr.
+Fair had been of his flowers. Celia, who was entering the gate, nodded and
+smiled brightly. He noted, however, that her face was losing its soft
+curves and rose tints. Celia was another of his favorites, and he knew she
+was having her battle with misfortune, meeting it as bravely as a young
+woman could. Thomas Gilpin might so easily have smoothed the way for her.
+The spinet was an interesting heirloom, no doubt, but would not help Celia
+solve the problem of bread and butter.</p>
+
+<p>The shop of the cabinet-maker was just off Main Street, at the foot of the
+hill. To its original two rooms he had added two more, and here he lived
+with no companions but a striped <a name="Page_37" id="Page_37"></a>cat and a curly dog, who endured each
+other and shared the affection of their master.</p>
+
+<p>Morgan's housekeeping was not burdensome. Certain of his neighbors always
+remembered him on baking day, and his tastes were simple. His shop opened
+immediately on the street; back of it was his living room and the small
+garden where he cultivated the gayest blooms. The living room had an open
+fireplace, for it was one of the cabinet-maker's pleasures to sit in the
+firelight when the work of the day was over, and a small oil stove
+sufficed for his cooking. On one side of the chimney was a high-backed
+settle, and above it a book shelf. Like most Scotch boys, he had had a
+fair education, and possessed a genuine reverence for books and a love of
+reading. In the opposite corner was an ancient mahogany desk where he kept
+his accounts, and near by in the window a shelf always full of plants in
+the winter. A cupboard of his own manufacture, a table, a lamp, and an
+arm-chair completed the furniture of the room. The walls he had painted a
+dull red, and over the fireplace in fanciful letters had traced this
+motto: &quot;Good in everything.&quot;<a name="Page_38" id="Page_38"></a></p>
+
+<p>To this cheerful belief Morgan held firmly, although there were times like
+this morning, when coming out of the sunlight and feeling a little weary,
+he noticed that the walls were growing dingy and the motto dim, and sighed
+to think how hard it was to see the good in some things.</p>
+
+<p>He placed a paper in the old secretary and was turning toward the shop
+when he stopped short in amazement, for in the doorway stood Rosalind, her
+face full of eagerness. Behind her was Miss Herbert, whom Morgan entirely
+overlooked in his pleasure at seeing Mr. Pat's little girl again.</p>
+
+<p>He shook hands warmly and offered the arm-chair, but Rosalind had no
+thought of sitting down. As she gazed with bright-eyed interest around the
+room, her glance fell on the motto, and she pointed to it and then to
+herself.</p>
+
+<p>The cabinet-maker was puzzled. &quot;Is it your motto?&quot; he asked.</p>
+
+<p>She nodded brightly.</p>
+
+<p>Morgan turned to the shelf, took down a large volume of Shakespeare's
+plays, and laying it on the table began to turn the pages rapidly.
+Rosalind <a name="Page_39" id="Page_39"></a>looked over his arm. He ran his finger down a leaf presently and
+pointed to the line. &quot;There,&quot; he said.</p>
+
+<p>Rosalind turned back a page and pointed to her own name, and then they
+both laughed as if it were a great coincidence.</p>
+
+<p>A sharp tap on his arm made Miss Herbert's presence known to Morgan. Miss
+Herbert was not of Friendship. She knew the value of time if the
+cabinet-maker did not, and had no idea of waiting while he discussed
+Shakespeare in pantomime with Rosalind.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Herbert with the aid of the tablet, and Morgan with many queer
+gestures to help out his faltering tongue, so long without the guide of
+hearing, contrived to despatch the business relating to a claw-footed
+sofa. When it was finished, Rosalind was missing, and was discovered in
+the little garden, making friends with the black poodle, while the striped
+cat looked on from the fence.</p>
+
+<p>It was with evident reluctance she accompanied Miss Herbert to the
+carriage. Before she left she took the tablet and wrote, &quot;I am going to
+learn to talk on my fingers.&quot;<a name="Page_40" id="Page_40"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;Good,&quot; the cabinet-maker answered, and he followed them to the street,
+smiling and nodding. &quot;Come again,&quot; he called as they drove away.</p>
+
+<p>When he returned to the shop, the world seemed brighter, the mist of doubt
+had lifted.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The rough places can't last always,&quot; he told himself as he sandpapered
+the claw toes of the sofa. &quot;We are certain to come to a turn in the lane
+after a while. There's good in everything, somewhere.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps the coming of Mr. Pat's little girl was a good omen. To him at
+least it was a most interesting event, nor was he the only person in
+Friendship who found it so.<a name="Page_41" id="Page_41"></a></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_FOURTH" id="CHAPTER_FOURTH" ></a>CHAPTER FOURTH.</h2>
+
+<h3>AN UNQUIET MORNING.</h3>
+
+<p class='center'>&quot;You amaze me, ladies.&quot;</p>
+
+
+<p>Farther up the street on the other side, but within sight of the
+Whittredges', was Mrs. Graham's Boarding and Day School for Young Ladies.</p>
+
+<p>The broad, one story and a half mansion, with rooms enough for a small
+hotel, was still known as the Bishop place, although nearly twenty years
+had passed since the little brown and white house on Church Street had
+opened its doors to Miss Betty and her invalid father, and to such of the
+massive furniture as could be accommodated within its walls. In her
+circular Mrs. Graham was careful to state that her school was commodiously
+housed in the mansion of the late distinguished Senator Charlton H.
+Bishop, and many a daughter groaned over her algebra or French verbs in
+the very room where her mother or grandmother before <a name="Page_42" id="Page_42"></a>her had fleeted the
+time carelessly in evenings long past, for brilliant was the tradition of
+the Bishop hospitality.</p>
+
+<p>Celia Fair, who taught drawing in the school, and on occasion kept study
+hour in what had once been the long drawing-room, had a fancy that the
+spirit of those days was responsible for many an outburst of mischief.
+At present Mrs. Graham's pupils were in a fever of curiosity over the new
+arrival at the Whittredges'.</p>
+
+<p>The Whittredge place had been invested by them with something of a halo of
+romance, founded chiefly on the seclusion In which it pleased Mrs.
+Whittredge to live. Bits of gossip let fall by their elders were eagerly
+treasured; it became the fashion, to rave over the beauty of the haughty
+Miss Genevieve, and even her brother who was not haughty, but quite like
+other people, was allowed a share of the halo on account of his connection
+with the lost ring, made famous by the contested will.</p>
+
+<p>Katherine Roberts, returning to school after several days' absence, found
+herself unusually popular. Katherine lived next door to the unknown; she
+had seen her; it was even said she <a name="Page_43" id="Page_43"></a>had heard her speak. Excitement grew
+as the news spread.</p>
+
+<p>The girls were standing in groups on the porch and steps, laughing and
+talking together, and at sight of Katherine gave her an uproarious
+greeting.</p>
+
+<p>Round, rosy-faced, blue-eyed Katherine, with her brown hair in two tight
+plaits turned under and tied with a ribbon behind her ears, was a little
+abashed at the attention she excited.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What is she like, Katherine? tell us&mdash;the new girl at the Whittredges'.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;She is standing at the gate now,&quot; answered Katherine, looking over her
+shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Is she? Oh, where?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Let's walk by and see her.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We'll be tardy if we do, and at any rate there is the carriage; perhaps
+they will drive past.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Look! there's Miss Genevieve. No, they are going the other way.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What are you staring at?&quot; demanded Belle Parton, joining the group. Belle
+was a gypsy-looking girl with merry black eyes, and hair that refused to
+be smooth like Katherine's, but continually fell in her eyes. As she spoke
+she put <a name="Page_44" id="Page_44"></a>her hat on the step and proceeded to adjust the round comb she
+wore.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The Whittredge girl. Have you seen her, Belle?&quot; asked Charlotte Ellis.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No; what is she like?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Katherine is the only one who has seen her; she says she is lovely.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, she is! You ought to see her, Belle. Maurice and I peeped through the
+hedge and saw her walking to and fro studying something. And her name is
+Rosalind. Isn't that a beautiful name?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I don't believe she is much,&quot; Belle announced, with a turn of her head.
+The only reason she had for saying this was the naughty one of wishing to
+snub Katherine, who took everything in earnest and now looked crestfallen.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Never mind, Kit; tell us some more about her,&quot; urged one of the others.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Grandmamma says she is surprised at Mrs. Whittredge's having her here.
+You know she would have nothing to do with her son after he married, until
+lately, and she never saw her granddaughter before, I think family
+quarrels are awfully interesting; don't you?&quot; As Charlotte <a name="Page_45" id="Page_45"></a>spoke, the
+bell rang, and the girls turned toward the house.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Do you, Charlotte?&quot; exclaimed Katherine, who was accustomed to pin her
+faith to her friend's opinions, but thought that quarrels being wrong
+could not be interesting.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I think so, too. They are so delightfully mysterious,&quot; echoed another of
+the girls.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Nonsense! What is there that is mysterious?&quot; put in pugnacious Belle.</p>
+
+<p>It may have been the alluring summer day, or the fact that it was near the
+end of the term, and discipline had relaxed, but certain it was that a
+general restlessness and inclination to whisper pervaded the study hour.
+It was the fashion among the girls to adore Celia. Fair, and usually she
+had no difficulty in keeping order, but this morning even her presence was
+without effect.</p>
+
+<p>Belle Parton had her history propped up before her in a way that suggested
+some mischief going on behind its shelter, rather than any serious study.
+Katherine, who was honestly trying to study, was distracted by the signals
+flying around her. Charlotte Ellis, whose seat <a name="Page_46" id="Page_46"></a>was near the window,
+seemed principally occupied in peeping between the sash curtains.</p>
+
+<p>Celia had looked up for the second time to say, &quot;Girls, I must have better
+order,&quot; and things had for several minutes quieted down, when Charlotte
+suddenly announced in a loud whisper, &quot;Here they come!&quot; and with that
+there was a rush for the windows.</p>
+
+<p>The cause of the excitement was of course the Whittredge carriage, but all
+anybody caught was a fleeting glimpse of a white dress beside Miss
+Genevieve's black one, and, as luck would have it, Mrs. Graham opened the
+door just in time to witness the scramble for a view.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Young ladies, you amaze me! What is the meaning of this?&quot; she demanded,
+as the girls, half of whom had rushed because the others had, returned
+abashed to their seats.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I never knew them to behave so before,&quot; said Celia, in apology.
+&quot;Something seems to be wrong to-day.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Wrong, indeed,&quot; repeated Mrs. Graham, who was a person of somewhat
+majestic appearance. Then her glance fell on Belle's desk. &quot;And this
+explains the rapid disappearance of my <a name="Page_47" id="Page_47"></a>chalk!&quot; she added, holding up to
+view a pen tray on which were arranged a number of tiny goblets and dishes
+neatly cut out of chalk.</p>
+
+<p>Katherine, who had not left her seat, laughed nervously. She stood in
+great awe of the principal, and she did not in the least wish to laugh.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Graham looked at her sternly, &quot;One mark in deportment, Katherine, and
+three to those who left their desks, and you will all spend your recess
+indoors. Belle, I will see you in the office.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Belle followed Mrs. Graham, with her head held high, her lips pursed up
+saucily, her black eyes snapping. Katherine, through her own tear-filled
+ones, watched her in astonishment.</p>
+
+<p>When Belle returned study hour was over, and the culprits who were
+condemned to stay indoors had grouped themselves beside the window.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What did she do to you, Belle?&quot; they cried.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Nothing,&mdash;just talked. She said it was wasting time and chalk, and that
+it wasn't honest. Such a fuss about a little chalk!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Celia Fair, who had her hat on, ready to go <a name="Page_48" id="Page_48"></a>home, came behind Belle, and
+with a hand on either side of her face she lifted it till the saucy eyes
+looked into her own. &quot;Does that make any difference, really&mdash;because it is
+just chalk?&quot; she asked.</p>
+
+<p>Belle wriggled out of her hands, only to clasp her around the waist. &quot;I
+wouldn't take your chalk,&quot; she said, laughing.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I don't know what to think of you to-day,&quot; Miss Fair continued, looking
+around the group. &quot;I am afraid Mrs. Graham will not trust me to keep study
+hour after this.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There was a general cry of, &quot;Oh, Miss Celia, why not?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Do you think she can have a high opinion of my ability to keep order?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But no one else could do any better.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;If Mrs. Graham had been here, you would not have rushed to the window, I
+know very well.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But we are so much fonder of you, Miss Celia,&quot; urged Charlotte.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;If that is the case I'd like you to show it by behaving,&quot; said Celia, as
+she left the room.</p>
+
+<p>When Belle told at home about the day's occurrences, her father laughed.<a name="Page_49" id="Page_49"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;I shall tell Mrs. Graham she must introduce manual training. 'Satan finds
+some mischief still,' you see. Maybe Belle will turn out a famous
+sculptor.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;At any rate, colonel, you ought not to encourage her in such pranks,&quot;
+Mrs. Parton remarked, shaking her head at her husband, who never saw
+anything to criticise in the one little daughter among his five boys.<a name="Page_50" id="Page_50"></a></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_FIFTH" id="CHAPTER_FIFTH" ></a>CHAPTER FIFTH.</h2>
+
+<h3>MAURICE.</h3>
+
+<p>&quot;The stubbornness of fortune.&quot;</p>
+
+
+<p>It was the first of the month, and a steady stream of people passed in and
+out of the bank. Maurice sat on the steps leading up to the private
+entrance, and with few exceptions each new-comer had a pleasant greeting
+or kindly inquiry for him.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Betty Bishop rustling out, bank book in hand, called, &quot;How are you,
+Maurice? When are you and Katherine coming to take tea with me? Let me
+know and I'll have waffles.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The cabinet-maker came to the foot of the steps to ask about the lame
+knee, and shook his head in sympathy with Maurice's doleful face.</p>
+
+<p>Colonel Parton, a tall, gray-mustached man, accompanied by two hunting
+dogs, hailed him: &quot;Not going with the boys? Ah, I forgot your knee. Too
+bad! Jack's got the dandiest new fishing-rod you ever saw.&quot;<a name="Page_51" id="Page_51"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;As if I didn't know it,&quot; growled Maurice, us the colonel entered the
+bank.</p>
+
+<p>The next person to accost him was Miss Celia Fair. She hadn't any bank
+business, but seeing Maurice as she passed, stopped to speak to him. She
+sat down beside him and tried in her pretty, soft way to cheer him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Don't look so gloomy, dear; you know if you are careful you will soon be
+all right again,&quot; she said.</p>
+
+<p>At this Maurice poured forth all his disappointment at not being able to
+go with the Parton boys on their excursion down the bay.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I am just as sorry for you as I can be,&quot; said Celia, clasping her hands
+in her lap&mdash;such slender hands&mdash;and looking far away as if she were tired
+of everything near by. It was only for a moment, then she said with a
+little laugh, &quot;You can't possibly understand, Maurice, but I shouldn't
+mind a sprained knee in the least; I think I could even enjoy it, if I
+hadn't any more responsibility than you have.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But you don't care to go fishing,&quot; he suggested.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, yes, I do; I like to fish.&quot; With a smile she said good-by, and went
+away.<a name="Page_52" id="Page_52"></a></p>
+
+<p>After this Maurice settled down into deeper despondency than before. He
+had refused an invitation to drive, hid treated with bitter scorn
+Katherine's suggestion that he might like to go out to the creek with her
+and Blossom. &quot;You could ride in the stage, you know, and have to walk only
+the least little bit,&quot; she said.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Thank you; it is <i>such</i> fun to throw stones in the water,&quot; he replied,
+with elaborate politeness.</p>
+
+<p>That Maurice was badly spoiled was no secret. The only boy in the family,
+with bright, engaging ways when things went to please him, he had been
+petted and humored by his parents, given up to by Katherine, and treated
+as a leader by his boy friends, until he had come to look upon his own
+pleasure as the most important thing in the universe. Not that he realized
+this. He would have been greatly surprised to hear he was selfish.</p>
+
+<p>The accident by which his knee had been sprained severely was an
+experience as trying as it was new to him. At first the petting he
+received at home, and the attentions of his friends, added to his sense of
+importance and made it endurable, but this could not continue
+<a name="Page_53" id="Page_53"></a>indefinitely. Ball playing and other sports must go on, and Maurice, to
+his aggrieved surprise, found they could go on very well without him.</p>
+
+<p>This morning his mother had expostulated mildly. &quot;My son, you ought not to
+make yourself so miserable. You could not be more unhappy if you were to
+be lame always.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is <i>now</i> I care about,&quot; he replied petulantly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I don't know what to do with Maurice,&quot; he overheard her say to his father
+in the hall.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Let him alone. I am ashamed of him,&quot; was Mr. Roberts's reply.</p>
+
+<p>And now, deserted and abused, Maurice was very miserable, and when he
+could stand it no longer he sought a distant spot in the garden and threw
+himself face down in the grass.</p>
+
+<p>He had been lying here some time when a voice apparently quite near asked,
+&quot;Have you hurt yourself?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Lifting his flushed, unhappy face, he saw peeping at him through the hedge
+the girl Katherine had been so interested in on Sunday. She, too, was
+lying on the grass, and her fair hair was spread out around her like a
+veil. Maurice <a name="Page_54" id="Page_54"></a>raised himself on his elbow and surveyed her in surprise,
+forgetting to reply.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What is the matter?&quot; she asked again, looking at him with a pair of
+serious gray eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Nothing,&quot; he answered.</p>
+
+<p>The gray eyes grew merry. Rosalind laughed, as she said, &quot;Then you ought
+not to groan. I thought when I heard you, perhaps you had fallen from a
+tree.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I wasn't groaning,&quot; he protested, feeling ashamed.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Maybe you call it sighing, but it was dreadfully deep.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, I think a fellow has a right to sigh when he can't do anything or
+go anywhere; and everybody else is having a good time,&quot; Maurice felt
+anxious to vindicate himself.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I am not having a good time,&quot; said Rosalind, &quot;at least not very; but then
+you know if you stay in the Forest of Arden, something pleasant is bound
+to happen before long.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Maurice stared at her blankly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Perhaps you don't know the story,&quot; Rosalind suggested.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What story?&quot;<a name="Page_55" id="Page_55"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;Its real name is 'As You Like It,' but I call it 'The Story of the
+Forest.'&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What is it about?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh,&mdash;about a banished duke, who lived in the Forest, like Robin Hood, you
+know, with a lot of people who were fond of him. He had a daughter, named
+Rosalind, and after a while she was banished too and went to look for her
+father in the Forest. Her cousin Celia and a funny clown, Touchstone, went
+with her, and they were all disguised. And&mdash;well, there is a great deal
+more to it&mdash;but they were all cheerful and brave&mdash;everybody is in the
+Forest of Arden, because they are sure there is good in everything if you
+only try to find it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But that is all a story. It isn't true.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, yes, it is.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There wasn't a bit of good in hurting my knee and having the whole summer
+spoiled.&quot; Maurice's tone was undeniably fretful.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;If you had been banished as Rosalind was, I suppose you would not have
+thought there was any good in that; but she didn't cry about it. She made
+the best of it, and had a good time in spite of it.&quot;<a name="Page_56" id="Page_56"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;Who says I was crying?&quot; Maurice demanded angrily.</p>
+
+<p>Rosalind opened her gray eyes wide, then she sat up and tossed back her
+hair. Maurice felt convicted of rudeness. Was she going? He hoped not, for
+he wished to talk to her.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I suppose I am rather cross,&quot; he acknowledged; &quot;but don't you think it is
+pretty hard to hurt your knee and have to walk with a crutch, and stay at
+home when the other boys go fishing?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, indeed. Does it hurt much?&quot; Rosalind asked, with ready sympathy.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, not now; it did at first, but the doctor says it will be five or six
+months before it is well again.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then it isn't for always? That is something good.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Maurice somehow felt uncomfortable. He did not wish the emphasis laid on
+the good. It seemed wise to change the subject. &quot;What a lot of hair you
+have,&quot; he remarked.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It has been washed, and grandmamma said I might dry it in the sun,&quot;
+Rosalind explained, shaking her head so vigorously she was enveloped in a
+shining cloud.<a name="Page_57" id="Page_57"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;Isn't it a great bother? Kit hates to have hers braided.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Who is Kit?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;She is my sister Katherine.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It must be nice to have a sister. I haven't anybody but father and Cousin
+Louis, and of course they are better than any one else. There are
+grandmamma and Aunt Genevieve, but I am not very well acquainted with them
+yet. I should love to have some children related to me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>I have a little sister, too; her name is Blossom. That is, her real name
+is Mary, and we call her Blossom.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Kit and Blossom; and what is your name?&quot; Rosalind asked.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Maurice Roberts.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Rosalind tossed back her hair and began to twist it into a shining rope.
+&quot;I am Rosalind Whittredge,&quot; she said. &quot;I should not think you would ever
+be unhappy,&quot; she added.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Do you know, I saw you last Sunday when you were studying something. Kit
+and I peeped at you through the hedge.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I was learning a hymn for grandmamma. Why didn't you speak to me?&quot;<a name="Page_58" id="Page_58"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;I didn't know whether you'd like it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, of course I should have liked it. I was beginning to think that day
+I should never get acquainted with any one, and I was feeling dreadfully
+lonesome when the magician came in.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The magician?&quot; Maurice exclaimed. Certainly this was a singular girl who
+talked about magicians in an everyday tone.</p>
+
+<p>Rosalind laughed. &quot;I mean Morgan, who does cabinet work. Do you know him?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Everybody in Friendship knows Morgan. He is a good fellow, too. Why do
+you call him the magician?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Because that is what father called him when he was a little boy. Once
+when Morgan had made an old desk look like new, grandfather said he was a
+magician, and father, who heard him, thought he meant it really. Father
+and Uncle Allan used to play in his shop and talk on their fingers to him.
+Can you do that?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, yes; I'll teach you if you like.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I should like it very much. It is so tiresome to write things.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Morgan is very clever, too, about understanding. You only begin to spell
+a word <a name="Page_59" id="Page_59"></a>when he guesses what you want to say,&quot; Maurice added.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I went to his shop the other day with Miss Herbert, but she wouldn't let
+me stay long. I made friends with his funny dog.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Do you know what we call him? Curly Q. And the cat&mdash;did you see him? He
+is Crisscross.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How funny,&quot; said Rosalind. &quot;I think they are very good names. Crisscross
+wouldn't have anything to do with me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Are you going to live here?&quot; Maurice asked.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No; but I shall be here a long time. I think Friendship is a nice place,
+and funny too, because it has a bank with a garden around it. At home our
+banks are all on the street and have offices over them.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes; Friendship isn't a city,&quot; Maurice acknowledged apologetically. &quot;I
+should like to live in a big city.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I like Friendship. It only seems a little odd, you know,&quot; Rosalind
+hastened to add. &quot;Do they ever let you go into the bank part of your
+house?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, of course, I can go in whenever I <a name="Page_60" id="Page_60"></a>choose. My father is the cashier,
+and it is to take care of the bank that we live here.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The conversation was brought to an end by a maid sent to find Rosalind.
+After she had gone Maurice saw a book on the grass where she had been
+lying, and reaching through the hedge with his crutch, he drew it toward
+him. When he removed the outside cover, even his uncritical eye saw it was
+a handsome hook. &quot;Shakespeare's 'As You Like It.' Edited by Louis A.
+Sargent,&quot; he read. &quot;Why, it is one of Shakespeare's plays,&quot; he said, in
+surprise. So this was the story Rosalind was talking about.</p>
+
+<p>On the fly-leaf was some writing in small clear letters. &quot;For Rosalind,
+with the wish that she may meet the hard things of life as bravely, and
+find as much happiness by the way, as did her namesake in the Forest of
+Arden. From her friend, Louis A. Sargent.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Meet the hard things of life as bravely&mdash;&quot; Maurice's face grew hot. &quot;You
+wouldn't have thought there was any good in that.&quot; The touch of scorn in
+Rosalind's tone stung as he recalled it. He turned the leaves and began to
+read.<a name="Page_61" id="Page_61"></a></p>
+
+<p>It was a pleasure to look at the large clear type; he soon became
+interested.</p>
+
+<p>Half an hour later Katherine's voice broke in upon the Forest of Arden.
+&quot;Maurice, Maurice, what are you doing? Mother sent me to find you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I am reading. Don't bother, please,&quot; was the reply, in a tone so far
+removed from melancholy that Katherine, reassured, obediently retired.<a name="Page_62" id="Page_62"></a></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_SIXTH" id="CHAPTER_SIXTH" ></a>CHAPTER SIXTH.</h2>
+
+<h3>PUZZLES.</h3>
+
+<p class='center'>&quot;How weary are my spirits!&quot;</p>
+
+
+<p>Up to this time life had been a simple and joyous matter to Rosalind. She
+had known her own small trials and perplexities, but her father or Cousin
+Louis were always at hand to smooth out tangles and show her how to be
+merry over difficulties. Now all was different. There were puzzles on
+every side and no one to turn to.</p>
+
+<p>The house behind the griffins was not exactly a cheerful place. Rosalind
+found herself stealing about on tiptoe lest she disturb the silence of the
+spacious rooms. She hardly ventured to more than peep into the
+drawing-room, where Miss Herbert's liking for twilight effects had full
+sway. There was a pier table here, supported by griffins, the counterpart
+in feature of those on the doorstep, which she longed to examine, but <a name="Page_63" id="Page_63"></a>the
+shades were always drawn and the handsome draperies of damask and lace
+hung in such perfect folds she dared not disturb them.</p>
+
+<p>Where was the charm of her father's stories of Friendship? Was it because
+her grandfather was dead that everything had changed? This was why her
+grandmother wore black dresses and added that heavy veil when she went
+out. Rosalind once drew a corner of it over her own face and the gloom
+appalled her.</p>
+
+<p>She ventured to say one day as they drove along a pleasant country road,
+&quot;Grandmamma, you don't know how bright the sunshine is,&quot; and Mrs.
+Whittredge replied, &quot;I do not wish to know, Rosalind; nothing can ever
+again be bright to me.&quot; Yet if she would only look, she must see that it
+was bright. This was one puzzle.</p>
+
+<p>Aunt Genevieve's manner was another. It was as if she scorned everything,
+and sometimes it made Rosalind almost angry.</p>
+
+<p>On the day of her meeting with Maurice, she ate her lunch with a glance
+every few minutes at her great-uncle Allan on the opposite wall. A <a name="Page_64" id="Page_64"></a>very
+black portrait, it seemed only a meaningless blur till in a certain light
+the strong face and stern eyes shone out of the surrounding gloom with
+startling effect. She sometimes wondered rather anxiously if the uncle to
+whose home-coming she looked forward, could by any possibility be like the
+person for whom he was named. It was not an agreeable face, yet it drew
+her gaze with an irresistible attraction. She was convinced that on
+occasion the heavy brows contracted and the eyes grew even sterner.</p>
+
+<p>In the next panel hung Matilda, his wife, as the massive marble in the
+cemetery said,&mdash;a youthful person with side curls and a comfortable smile.</p>
+
+<p>Even with its southern windows the dining room was sombre in its massive
+furnishings of Flemish oak. Very different from the one at home, with its
+sunshine and flowers, its overflow of books from the study, and the odds
+and ends of pottery picked up by father and Cousin Louis in their travels.</p>
+
+<p>Rosalind was thinking that the plain little room of the magician was the
+pleasantest place <a name="Page_65" id="Page_65"></a>she knew in Friendship, when Martin entered with
+something in his hand, announcing in his courtly way, &quot;A book for Miss
+Rosalind.&quot; It seemed to her that Martin, with his grizzled head and dusky
+face, had the most beautiful manners ever seen.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;For me, Martin?&quot; she exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The young gentleman from next door left it,&quot; said Martin.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I did not know you knew any one next door, Rosalind,&quot; Mrs. Whittredge
+remarked questioningly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I am not very well acquainted, grandmamma,&quot; Rosalind answered, seeing
+suddenly in the handsome face a likeness to the dark portrait; &quot;but I
+talked to Maurice through the hedge this morning. I remember now, I had my
+book. I must have left it on the grass.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I believe Rosalind seldom loses an opportunity to speak to people. Miss
+Herbert says she is on quite intimate terms with Morgan,&quot; remarked Miss
+Genevieve.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Father told me about Morgan,&quot; Rosalind began apologetically, adding more
+confidently, &quot;I like to know people.&quot;<a name="Page_66" id="Page_66"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your father over again,&quot; Mrs. Whittredge said, smiling. &quot;What is your
+book, dear?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'As You Like It.' Cousin Louis gave it to me.&quot; As she spoke Rosalind
+caught the glance exchanged by her grandmother and aunt.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;When I was a little girl Cousin Louis told me the story because it is
+about Rosalind, you know, and ever since I have called it my story,
+because I like it best of all.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>No comment was made on this explanation, and it seemed to her the next
+time she looked in his direction, that Uncle Allan frowned.</p>
+
+<p>When luncheon was over she went out to the garden seat under the birch,
+carrying with her an old green speller found in a bookcase upstairs. In
+the back of it she had discovered the deaf and dumb alphabet, so now she
+would not have to wait for Maurice to teach her; she could learn it by
+herself. It did not seem difficult. With the spelling book propped open in
+one corner of the bench she went carefully over it, and then tried to
+think of words she was most likely to want to use in talking with Morgan;
+but this was slower work, and the thought that for some unknown reason her
+grandmother <a name="Page_67" id="Page_67"></a>was displeased with her kept claiming her attention.</p>
+
+<p>When father was displeased with her&mdash;and this was not often&mdash;he always
+told her, and they talked it over frankly, but grandmamma and Aunt
+Genevieve only looked at each other and said nothing. It both puzzled her
+and hurt her dignity to be treated in this way.</p>
+
+<p>Presently it occurred to her that her grandmother might have been vexed at
+her carelessness in leaving her book on the grass. It was careless; father
+would have said so. Well, she could let grandmamma know she was sorry, and
+feeling relieved at having found a possible solution of the problem, she
+closed the spelling book.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Whittredge looked up in evident surprise when Rosalind entered the
+room and announced, &quot;I am sorry I left my book on the grass, grandmamma.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What do you mean, my dear?&quot; she asked.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I thought you didn't like it because I was careless.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I suppose it was careless, my pet, but I had not thought of it. But tell
+me what makes you care so much for that book. It seems to me <a name="Page_68" id="Page_68"></a>there are
+many stories that would be more interesting to a little girl. Suppose you
+put it away and let me find you something else.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The color deepened in Rosalind's face. &quot;It is my own, own book,&quot; she
+cried, clasping it to her heart.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Very well, you need not be tragic about it,&quot; Mrs. Whittredge said coldly,
+turning to her writing.</p>
+
+<p>Again Rosalind knew she had offended, and this time her resentment was
+aroused. &quot;I don't like to be spoken to in that way,&quot; she told herself, as
+she walked from the room.</p>
+
+<p>Before she had reached the head of the stairs her grandmother's voice
+called her hack. Reluctantly she returned.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Whittredge had risen and now came to meet her and put her arm around
+her, and her voice was soft and full of affection as she asked, &quot;Do you
+want to go to the cemetery with me this afternoon, pet? Aunt Genevieve has
+the carriage, and I think a walk will do me good.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The walk along the shady street and through the grassy lane to the gate at
+the foot of the <a name="Page_69" id="Page_69"></a>hill was as pleasant as a walk could be that summer day.
+Rosalind kept sedately by her grandmother's side, and the face under the
+drooping hat was grave. Behind them walked Martin with some garden tools
+and a watering-pot.</p>
+
+<p>The serious eyes brightened, and the lips curved into a smile at sight of
+Maurice and Katherine playing dominos under the maple. How lovely it must
+be to have a brother or sister to play with and talk to!</p>
+
+<p>The cemetery was not new to Rosalind, for Mrs. Whittredge on her daily
+drive usually stopped there, and its winding paths and green slopes, its
+drooping willows and graceful oaks, and the flowers that bloomed
+everywhere, around the stately shafts of marble and the low headstones,
+seemed to her very pleasant. Here, however, her grandmother's sadness took
+on a deeper tinge as she moved among the mounds that lay in the shadow of
+the massive granite monument with &quot;Whittredge&quot; in letters of bronze at its
+base.</p>
+
+<p>As Martin went to work trimming the ivy under his mistress's direction,
+Rosalind wandered away by herself across the hill-top, pausing <a name="Page_70" id="Page_70"></a>now and
+then to read an inscription and do a sum in subtraction, on the result of
+which her interest largely depended. &quot;Lily, born 1878, died 1888,&quot; stirred
+her imagination, and she sat down to consider it at length. How old would
+Lily be now if she had lived? She tried to think how her own name would
+look on a stone. It was still and peaceful on that sunny hillside; it
+reminded her of &quot;Sharon's lovely rose.&quot; The idea of a grave here was not
+unattractive. She was considering it pensively when her eyes fell on a
+long-stemmed, creamy rose, lying not far from her on the ground. With
+instant pleasure in its beauty she took it up and held it against her
+cheek.</p>
+
+<p>Where had it come from? Some one must have dropped it. She stood up and
+looked around, but there was no one in sight. On the other side of a holly
+bush, however, a number of just such roses lay on a grave. Rosalind walked
+over and stooped to read the name on the low headstone. &quot;Robert Ellis
+Fair,&quot; she repeated half aloud as she laid her rose beside the others.</p>
+
+<p>When she lifted her head she met the surprised <a name="Page_71" id="Page_71"></a>gaze of a young lady, who
+came across the grass with a watering-pot in her hand. She was decidedly
+pretty to look at, and she smiled pleasantly as she began watering the
+flowers in an iron vase.</p>
+
+<p>Rosalind felt she must explain, so she said, smiling in her turn, &quot;I found
+a rose on the grass, and I thought it must belong here.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Thank you. I suppose I dropped it. Won't you tell me who you are? I am
+sure you do not live in Friendship.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, I am visiting my grandmother. I am Rosalind Whittredge.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>A strange expression crossed the face of the young lady at this
+announcement. Could it be that something displeased her? After a moment
+she spoke gravely, &quot;I think some one is looking for you,&quot; she said.</p>
+
+<p>Turning, Rosalind saw Martin in the distance, and as there seemed nothing
+else to do or say, she walked away. After she had gone some little
+distance she could not resist looking back, and just as she did so she saw
+the young lady fling something from her across the grass, and&mdash;it looked
+like a rose! Could it be her rose? Rosalind <a name="Page_72" id="Page_72"></a>felt her cheeks growing hot.
+How very strange! Here was a puzzle, indeed.</p>
+
+<p>Aunt Genevieve had come for them in the carriage, and as they drove home
+Rosalind tried to describe the young lady she had seen, saying nothing
+about the rose, however.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It must have been Celia Fair, mamma, don't you think so?&quot; asked
+Genevieve.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Fair was the name on the stone,&quot; said Rosalind, adding, &quot;She was pretty.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Whittredge looked at her mother, then as that lady was silent, she
+remarked, in her usual languid tone, &quot;I think you may as well know,
+Rosalind, that we have nothing to do with the Fairs.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Why did it make any difference to Rosalind? Why did everything seem wrong?
+Why did she feel so unhappy in spite of the blue sky and the sweet summer
+air?</p>
+
+<p>When they reached home she sat on the garden bench and looked up at the
+griffins, and the fancy floated through her mind that it might be
+comfortable to be as unfeeling as they.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;O, dear! I am afraid I am getting out of the Forest. What shall I do?
+Perhaps the magician could help me;&quot; she clasped her hands <a name="Page_73" id="Page_73"></a>at the
+thought. Why not go to see him? She knew the way.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I will take my book to show him,&quot; she said; and running to the house for
+it, forgetful of everything but her longing for sympathy, a few minutes
+later she flitted down the driveway and out of the gate.<a name="Page_74" id="Page_74"></a></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_SEVENTH" id="CHAPTER_SEVENTH" ></a>CHAPTER SEVENTH.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE MAGICIAN MAKES TEA.</h3>
+
+
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="If that love or gold">
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 6em;">&quot;&mdash;If that love or gold</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Can in this place buy entertainment,</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Bring us where we may rest ourselves and feed;</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Here's a young maid with travel much oppress'd</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>And faints for succour.&quot;</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+
+
+<p>The magician was at work in his small garden adjusting some wire netting
+for the sweet peas, while Curly Q. looked on with interest, and Crisscross
+finished his saucer of milk.</p>
+
+<p>Rosalind came through the shop so softly that only the cat was aware of
+it. He gazed at her in evident doubt whether to continue work on the rim
+of his saucer or take refuge on the fence.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I should like to have a little house, and a dog and cat to live with me,&quot;
+she thought, sitting down on the step to wait till she should <a name="Page_75" id="Page_75"></a>be
+observed. Yes, this was more like the Forest of Arden than any place she
+knew; her unhappiness seemed melting away in the peaceful atmosphere.</p>
+
+<p>Crisscross decided she was not dangerous, and keeping an eye on her by way
+of precaution went on with his supper. It was not long, however, before
+Curly Q. discovered her presence and came bounding to her side, with a
+sharp bark of welcome, then back to call his master's attention.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why! Why!&quot; exclaimed the magician, holding up a pair of rather grimy
+hands.</p>
+
+<p>There could be no doubt about his being glad to see Rosalind. He asked how
+she was, over and over, and apologized for his hands, and smiled and
+nodded and indulged in all sorts of absurd gestures, which made her laugh
+so she couldn't try her new accomplishment of talking on her fingers.
+Directly he hurried into the house, where she could hear him washing his
+hands, and then he came out again with a teakettle, which he filled at the
+cistern, and carrying it back set it on a small oil stove, which he
+lighted.<a name="Page_76" id="Page_76"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;We'll have some tea,&quot; he said, sitting down beside her and asking again
+how she was.</p>
+
+<p>Rosalind summoned all her learning and spelled out carefully, with the aid
+of some very dainty fingers, &quot;I-am-lon&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lonesome?&quot; repeated the magician. &quot;That is too bad. Mr. Pat wouldn't like
+that.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Rosalind shook her head. The tears were near the surface, but she kept
+them back, and remembering her book she laid it on the magician's knee,
+open at the words Cousin Louis had written: &quot;If we choose we may travel
+always in the Forest where the birds sing and the sunlight sifts through
+the trees; where although we sometimes grow footsore and hungry we know
+that the goal is sure. Just outside is the dreary desert in which, alas!
+many choose to walk, shutting their eyes to the beauty and peace of the
+Forest, and losing by the way the sacred gift of happiness.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The magician read it slowly through, then he smiled at Rosalind over his
+glasses. &quot;That's so,&quot; he said. &quot;It is hard to keep out of the desert
+sometimes, but it all comes right in the end. Why, the other day I was&mdash;&quot;
+here he shook <a name="Page_77" id="Page_77"></a>his head and put on a woe-begone expression of countenance
+that made his meaning plain, and caused Rosalind to laugh&mdash;&quot;and I looked
+up and there you stood in the door and pointed to the motto, 'Good in
+everything,' and I felt better.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Did I really cheer you up?&quot; cried Rosalind, delighted; and nodding quite
+as if he heard, the magician answered, &quot;Now I'll cheer you up.&quot; Rising, he
+beckoned her to follow him inside, and she obeyed, feeling as if she were
+somebody in a story.</p>
+
+<p>The kettle was already singing merrily, and from a shelf the magician took
+down a fat little teapot and, rinsing it with boiling water, proceeded to
+make tea. Next he spread a white cloth on a small table, and from the
+cupboard took out some blue and white cups and plates.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Let me set it,&quot; begged Rosalind, in pantomime, entering gayly into the
+spirit of the thing.</p>
+
+<p>Laughing, the magician left it to her and went off to his store-room, from
+which he emerged with a pitcher of milk and a loaf of brown bread.</p>
+
+<p>There was nothing in the appointments of this simple meal to offend the
+most fastidious taste, and <a name="Page_78" id="Page_78"></a>it was a sight to bring a smile to the
+dolefulest countenance, to see Rosalind and the magician sitting opposite
+to each other drinking tea. In the midst of it Morgan jumped up and went
+to the store-room, returning with a tumbler of jelly. &quot;Miss Betty Bishop's
+jelly,&quot; he said. &quot;Do you know Miss Betty?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="figcenter"><a href="./images/2.jpg"><img src="./images/2-tb.jpg" alt="&quot;DO YOU KNOW MISS BETTY?&quot;" title="&quot;DO YOU KNOW MISS BETTY?&quot;" /></a><a name="DO_YOU" id="DO_YOU" ></a></p>
+<p class='center'>&quot;DO YOU KNOW MISS BETTY?&quot;</p>
+<p>Rosalind shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;She makes good things,&quot; he added, as he unscrewed the top.</p>
+
+<p>Rosalind's afternoon in the open air had given her an appetite, and she
+did full justice to the brown bread and jelly, the novelty of the occasion
+adding a flavor. Through the open door and window came the glow of the
+sunset, and the air was sweet with some far-off fragrance. All trouble had
+faded from her face; it was as if in the heart of the Forest she had come
+upon some friendly inn. Such a small matter as dinner in the house behind
+the griffins quite escaped her memory.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, upon my word!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Startled in the act of feeding Curly Q., Rosalind looked toward the door,
+and saw there a lady in a crisp, light muslin. More than this <a name="Page_79" id="Page_79"></a>she did not
+at once take in, for behind her in the semi-darkness of the shop was
+Martin's face. The conviction that he was looking for her, and that
+grandmamma would be vexed, overshadowed everything else. She rose, while
+the magician greeted the lady as Miss Betty, and offered her a cup of tea.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'se been searchin' high and low for you, Miss Rosalind,&quot; Martin
+exclaimed, coming forward.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'm dreadfully sorry, Martin; I forgot,&quot; said Rosalind.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Betty, who had declined the tea, now held out her hand. &quot;This is
+Rosalind Whittredge, of course; I am your Cousin Betty.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I didn't know I had any cousins,&quot; said Rosalind.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You will find a few if you stay long enough,&quot; replied Miss Betty. &quot;How do
+you come to be eating supper with Morgan, I'd like to know? I was sitting
+on my porch when you went in, so when Martin came along I was able to help
+him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I like Morgan. I wanted to see him. Father told me about him.&quot; Rosalind
+felt she couldn't explain exactly.<a name="Page_80" id="Page_80"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;I used to know your father very well indeed,&quot; said Miss Betty, as they
+walked together to the street, after Rosalind had told the magician
+good-by. &quot;As you seem to like going out to tea, I hope you will come and
+take supper with me sometime,&quot; she added, with a twinkle in her eye.</p>
+
+<p>When she reached home Miss Herbert stood at the gate, and in the door was
+Mrs. Whittredge. Rosalind's face was full of brightness as she ran up the
+path.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Grandmamma, I meant only to stay a minute, and then I forgot.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have been worried about you, Rosalind,&quot; Mrs. Whittredge said gravely.
+&quot;Why did you not come to me and tell me where you wished to go? Where have
+you been?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;To see the magician&mdash;Morgan, I mean. I wanted so much to see him I did
+not think of anything else.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why did you wish to see him?&quot; continued her grandmother.</p>
+
+<p>The glow was fading from Rosalind's face. &quot;Because&mdash;&quot; she hesitated,
+&quot;because&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well?&quot;<a name="Page_81" id="Page_81"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;Because I was lonely, grandmamma, and I was afraid I was going to cry. I
+promised father I would be brave, and&mdash;well&mdash;Morgan knows about the
+Forest, and is very good to cheer you up. He made tea in the dearest
+little teapot, and it was so amusing, I forgot. I am sorry.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Do you mean you took supper with Morgan? Well, Rosalind, you are
+amazing!&quot; Aunt Genevieve spoke from the hall.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Never mind, Genevieve,&quot; said her mother. &quot;I am sorry you were lonely,
+Rosalind, but I do not understand why you should go to Morgan. And what do
+you mean by the 'forest'?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Rosalind's face was grave again. &quot;I don't know, grandmamma,&quot; she faltered,
+and indeed she could not have told if her life had depended on it.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I think you were very easy on her, mamma. It was certainly naughty of her
+to run away,&quot; Genevieve remarked, after Rosalind, worn out by the
+conflicting experiences of the day, had gone to bed.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Whittredge did not reply at once. On her lap lay her granddaughter's
+little volume <a name="Page_82" id="Page_82"></a>of &quot;As You Like It,&quot; and she had been reading the words
+about the Forest. It had a way of opening to that page.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;She is a peculiar, fanciful child, and quite old enough to know better.
+Professor Sargent may be a brilliant man, but it seems to me he has filled
+the child's head full of nonsense. I can't see what Patterson has been
+thinking of,&quot; Genevieve continued.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I am not inclined to find much fault with her. I did not expect her to be
+perfect. She seems naturally sweet and happy,&quot; her mother replied.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Losing by the way the sacred gift of happiness,&quot; Mrs. Whittredge's eyes
+went back to the book. Surely happiness had slipped from her grasp,
+leaving nothing but regret. It was sad to realize that her children found
+all their pleasure apart from her. Somewhere she had failed, but pride
+told her it was fate; that sorrow and disappointment were the common lot,
+that gratitude was not to be looked for.</p>
+
+<p>After her bitter disappointment in her oldest son she had been the more
+determined to have her way with Allan. With what result? The <a name="Page_83" id="Page_83"></a>extended
+tour abroad, planned with a purpose just as his college course was ended,
+had weaned him completely from his home. His interests were elsewhere, and
+although as joint executor with her of his father's estate he was often in
+Friendship, his visits were usually brief. Between herself and her
+daughter there was little sympathy. Genevieve, calm and inflexible, had
+early declared her independence. But more than all else put together was
+her haunting sorrow for her husband. Words of Dr. Fair, spoken long ago in
+cruel bluntness, still rang in her ears: &quot;Madam, you are killing your
+husband by your obstinacy.&quot; Her mind dwelt with morbid persistency upon
+them. Had the reconciliation with her son come too late?</p>
+
+<p>At a time of utter weariness with herself she acceded to Patterson's
+proposal to send his daughter to her. Genevieve had expostulated,
+insisting she would be impossible, a child with no bringing up. Rosalind
+had come, and even Genevieve had to admit, so far as manners and
+appearance were concerned, she was not impossible.<a name="Page_84" id="Page_84"></a></p>
+
+<p>In the fair young face, with its serious eyes, in whose glance there was
+often a singular radiance, Mrs. Whittredge found something that touched
+her heart. Her granddaughter had not the Whittredge beauty, she was
+nothing of a Whittredge, and yet&mdash;One day she had taken up the miniature
+on Rosalind's table, with a glance over her shoulder; and when she put it
+down and turned away, it was with the reluctant feeling that perhaps there
+had been some excuse for her son when he left father and mother and
+kindred and home for this young girl.<a name="Page_85" id="Page_85"></a></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_EIGHTH" id="CHAPTER_EIGHTH" ></a>CHAPTER EIGHTH.</h2>
+
+<h3>TO MEET ROSALIND.</h3>
+
+<p class='center'>&quot;Put you in your best array.&quot;</p>
+
+
+<p>Miss Betty Bishop lived in a small white house with brown trimmings, which
+she herself likened to a white cake with chocolate filling. Everything
+about it was snug and neat and seemed to the observer a pleasant
+expression of that kindly, busy, cheery lady; but Miss Betty was in the
+habit of declaring it had taken her twenty years to get settled in those
+small, low-ceiled rooms, and that she didn't feel quite in yet.</p>
+
+<p>There had been a great sacrifice of fine old furniture when the big house
+on Main Street had to be exchanged for the little one in Church Lane, and
+it was no wonder Miss Betty sighed at the thought. None the less she had
+accepted courageously the reverses which at twenty brought her gay
+girlhood to an end, and <a name="Page_86" id="Page_86"></a>for fifteen years was a cheerful, devoted nurse
+to her invalid father. Since his death she lived alone with only Sophy,
+her old mammy, to cook and care for her.</p>
+
+<p>When it became known that Miss Betty had invited certain of her young
+friends to tea to meet Rosalind Whittredge, a wave of excitement swept
+over Friendship.</p>
+
+<p>All the children of the town had heard stories of Miss Betty's beauty and
+belleship, but those Washington winters belonged to twenty years ago and
+had no connection with her present popularity. Sophy's skill as a cook no
+doubt had something to do with the fame of her mistress's tea parties, but
+besides this Miss Betty knew how to make her guests, whether young or old,
+have a good time.</p>
+
+<p>When asked if she was fend of children, she was sure to reply, &quot;Some
+children. I don't like disagreeable children any better than I do
+disagreeable grown persons.&quot; And for this reason, perhaps, it had come to
+be esteemed something of an honor to be asked to her house.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Betty had at first felt a prejudice against Patterson Whittredge's
+daughter, deciding in her <a name="Page_87" id="Page_87"></a>own mind that she was probably a spoiled little
+thing; but the sight of Rosalind taking tea with Morgan, and more than
+this, the frank gaze of those disarming gray eyes, had touched her kindly
+heart. She knew as well as anybody that it must be lonely in the
+Whittredge house; and so she had thought of the tea party.</p>
+
+<p>The interest felt in Patterson Whittredge's daughter was very general.
+Patterson belonged to those old times when peace had reigned in
+Friendship. He had been a favorite in the village, and to many it seemed
+only the other day that he had gone away. It was incredible that this tall
+girl seen walking by Mrs. Whittredge's side could be his daughter. There
+were those like Mrs. Graham's pupils, who were inclined to invest her with
+a halo of romance; others criticised her as not at all the Whittredge
+style, not what one had a right to expect in Mrs. Whittredge's
+granddaughter. Some pitied Mrs. Whittredge for the responsibility thrust
+upon her, others pitied Rosalind, and still more, envied her.</p>
+
+<p>In view of all the discussion, it was not possible to regard an invitation
+to meet her as quite an everyday matter.<a name="Page_88" id="Page_88"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;I do wish you had not soiled your embroidered muslin, Belle. You will
+have to wear your summer silk,&quot; said Mrs. Parton, addressing her daughter,
+who sat on the dining-room floor entertaining a Maltese kitten with a
+string and spool.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I forgot to tell you, mother, Jack dropped some wax candle on it last
+Sunday night, when we were looking for a penny in the grass,&quot; Belle
+replied, lifting her merry black eyes for a moment. &quot;Anyway, it isn't a
+dress-up party&mdash;only to supper.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Bring that dress to me at once. I am astonished at you. The only decent
+thing you have!&quot; Mrs. Parton sat down and clasped her hands in an attitude
+of desperation.</p>
+
+<p>Followed by the kitten, Belle departed, returning directly with the blue
+and white checked silk over her arm.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Whatever it is,&quot; her mother continued, I want you to look nice; Betty
+says Rosalind Whittredge has beautiful clothes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I just know she is a prig,&quot; remarked Belle, caressing the kitten.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, she isn't!&quot; A tumbled head and a pair of eyes very like Belle's own
+peered out suddenly <a name="Page_89" id="Page_89"></a>from beneath the table cover. &quot;If she was, she
+wouldn't have run away to take supper with Morgan.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Mercy upon us, Jack! you are enough to startle the sphinx. Come out from
+under that table at once,&quot; commanded his mother.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Did she do that?&quot; asked Belle, with some interest, adding, &quot;Is it very
+bad, mother? Can you clean it? How do you know she did, Jack?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Parton shook her head; &quot;I'll try French chalk,&quot; she said.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Miss Betty said so. She saw her,&quot; put in Jack.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Parton rose. &quot;Another time when you lose a penny, I will make it good
+rather than have your best dress spoiled,&quot; she remarked.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But you see, mother, it was a church penny,&quot; Belle explained, as if she
+were mentioning some rare and peculiar coin. &quot;Arthur brought the
+collection home because Uncle Ranney wasn't there, and when he untied his
+handkerchief on the porch a penny dropped out and rolled into the grass.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Who is going to Miss Betty's?&quot; Jack asked, as his mother left the room.<a name="Page_90" id="Page_90"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;Maurice and Katherine and you and me, and the Ellises, and&mdash;I don't know
+who.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I know it will be stupid; I don't think I'll go.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;If it is stupid, you will make it so,&quot; retorted his sister, adding, &quot;and
+you will go, too, for mother will make you; besides, you know you wouldn't
+miss Sophy's waffles.&quot; Belle departed with the kitten, leaving Jack to
+return to the latest Henty book and his retreat under the table.</p>
+
+<p>The Partons' was a square house, with a wide hall dividing it through the
+middle and opening on a porch at either end. When the weather at all
+permitted, these doors stood wide open, and dogs and cats and children ran
+in and out as they pleased. In the afternoons Colonel Parton sat on the
+front porch smoking and reading, threatening the dogs and the children
+indiscriminately, receiving not the slightest attention from either.</p>
+
+<p>As she passed him now, Belle mischievously deposited the kitten on his
+shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You baggage, you! Take this thing off me,&quot; thundered the colonel, as the
+kitten made <a name="Page_91" id="Page_91"></a>its claws felt in a frantic endeavor to hold on in its
+perilous position.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;O father! don't hurt her,&quot; Belle cried, running to the rescue, and in the
+scuffle that followed, the unfortunate kitten escaped.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Don't you let me catch you doing a thing like that again,&quot; scolded the
+colonel, as he picked up his paper and settled himself in his chair again.</p>
+
+<p>Belle laughed, and held up her face for a kiss, which her father gave with
+a hearty good will.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Parton was not the only one who felt dress to be a matter of
+importance on this occasion. Charlotte Ellis stopped at the bank gate to
+ask Katherine what she was going to wear.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My blue lawn, I think,&quot; Katherine answered. &quot;Mother says it is nice
+enough, and that I must keep my new white dress for Commencement.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Your blue dress is very pretty, I am sure,&quot; Charlotte said. She was two
+years older than Katherine, and her manner was mildly patronizing. &quot;I
+think I shall wear white. Of course <a name="Page_92" id="Page_92"></a>it is not a party, but we want to
+make a good impression on a stranger.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Katherine felt the force of this, but Maurice, who overheard Charlotte,
+was inclined to jeer. &quot;Much difference it will make to her what you have
+on,&quot; he said, as Charlotte left them. &quot;Her,&quot; meant Rosalind.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How do you know it won't make any difference?&quot; asked Katherine.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Because she is not that kind.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What kind? How do you know?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Now Maurice had kept his interview with Rosalind to himself, saying
+nothing to any one when he returned her book. His sudden interest in
+Shakespeare had not passed unnoticed; but as this or something else had
+caused longer intervals of cheerfulness, the family had not ventured to
+disturb the agreeable change by asking questions.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I know, because I talked to her the other day,&quot; he replied.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Maurice, really?&quot; cried Katherine. &quot;I don't believe it&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You needn't if you don't want to,&quot; was her brother's lofty answer.<a name="Page_93" id="Page_93"></a></p>
+
+<p>On the appointed evening the guest of honor was the last to arrive, and
+the others were in such a state of expectancy they could not settle down
+to an examination of Miss Betty's puzzle drawer with which she usually
+entertained her young guests until supper was announced. Miss Betty, who
+adored puzzles and problems of all kinds, was continually adding to her
+collection, and this evening there was a brand new one, brought from the
+city only the day before; but even Belle, who was especially good at
+puzzles, and besides affected not to care about Rosalind Whittredge, could
+not keep her eyes from the window.</p>
+
+<p>The application of French chalk had been successful, and she wore her blue
+and white silk; Katherine, in her blue muslin, with ribbons to match on
+her smooth braids, wished her mother had been more impressed with the
+importance of the occasion. Charlotte was complacent in her white dress
+with a large ribbon bow on top of her head, in a new fashion just received
+from her cousin in Baltimore.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That's the way Rosalind wears hers,&quot; whispered Katherine.<a name="Page_94" id="Page_94"></a></p>
+
+<p>The boys fingered the puzzles and talked about the ball game to be played
+to-morrow, but they shared the feeling of anticipation. Their hostess
+bustled back and forth.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Children,&quot; she said, pausing in the door, &quot;I want you to be as nice as
+possible to Rosalind. Remember she is a stranger, and we wish her to have
+a pleasant impression of Friendship.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Here she is!&quot; announced Belle, and the rest crowded around the window.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There's Miss Genevieve,&quot; whispered Charlotte; &quot;girls, she is coming in!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The Whittredge carriage had stopped before the gate and Miss Genevieve, a
+marvel of grace in soft chiffons that rippled and curled about her slender
+height and emphasized the fairness of her skin, was actually escorting her
+niece to the door.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Isn't she lovely?&quot; sighed Charlotte, in an ecstasy.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not so sweet as Miss Celia,&quot; said loyal Belle.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Betty met them on the porch, while her guests in the parlor craned
+their necks to catch a glimpse, through the open door, of the new
+<a name="Page_95" id="Page_95"></a>arrivals. The languid sweetness of Miss Genevieve's tone floated in above
+Miss Betty's crisper utterance.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Mamma is just as usual, thank you. Yes, it was very kind of you to ask
+her; I have no doubt she finds it dull. Yes, we expect Allan in a week or
+two, but there is no counting on him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>So absorbed were the listeners, they did not begin their retreat soon
+enough, and their hostess, ushering Rosalind in, encountered a scene of
+confusion. Katherine in the excitement fell backward over a footstool and
+was rescued, flushed and shamefaced, by Jack Parton. Charlotte smoothed
+her dress and tried to look dignified. Belle and Maurice were in fits of
+laughter.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Betty surveyed them in surprise. Rosalind stood beside her, and the
+girls at once noted that she wore pink.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Is anything the matter?&quot; asked Miss Betty, observing Katherine's flushed
+face. &quot;I want to introduce Rosalind Whittredge to you. Rosalind, this is
+Charlotte Ellis, and Katherine Roberts, and Belle Parton&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Still laughing, Belle held out her hand. &quot;We were peeping at you,&quot; she
+said.<a name="Page_96" id="Page_96"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;Didn't you know I was coming in?&quot; Rosalind asked, a gleam of fun in her
+own eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We wanted to see Miss Genevieve,&quot; added Belle.</p>
+
+<p>As Miss Betty proceeded to name the boys, Rosalind said, &quot;Oh, I know
+Maurice,&quot; quite as if he were an old friend; and she added, standing
+beside him, &quot;I am so much obliged to you for bringing my book home.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Does Maurice know her?&quot; whispered Belle.</p>
+
+<p>Katherine nodded, although she had had her doubts until this minute.</p>
+
+<p>Maurice was agreeably conscious of Belle's eyes as he talked to Rosalind.
+He was not at all unwilling to have the distinction of being the only one
+to know the new-comer.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I read the story,&quot; he said. &quot;I did not know till after you had gone that
+it was one of Shakespeare's plays. We read Julius Caesar at school last
+winter.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I know that too,&quot; Rosalind answered. I have Lamb's stories. Cousin Louis
+used to read them to me, and then from the real plays, but I like the
+story of the Forest best.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Dear me! they are talking about Shakespeare,&quot; Belle exclaimed.<a name="Page_97" id="Page_97"></a></p>
+
+<p>Rosalind looked across the room at her, and smiled in a way that seemed an
+invitation.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is a little funny for her to sit down beside a boy the first thing,
+don't you think?&quot; Charlotte said in a low tone to Katherine, who assented
+because she was in the habit of agreeing with Charlotte.</p>
+
+<p>Belle overheard. &quot;Silly!&quot; she said, and to show her scorn she went over
+and sat on an arm of the sofa beside Rosalind.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Do you like to read?&quot; she asked.</p>
+
+<p>Rosalind opened her eyes. &quot;Of course I do, don't you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Belle, who had browsed in her father's library since she had learned her
+letters, was known as a great reader, and felt rather proud of her
+reputation; but she found the stranger had read as much as she, and seemed
+to think nothing of it.</p>
+
+<p>In the warmth of a discussion of favorite stories any stiffness is sure to
+melt rapidly away. Jack, hearing mention of &quot;The Talisman,&quot; joined in and
+the others drew up their chairs, so that when Miss Betty rustled back from
+an excursion to the dining room she found the ice broken and <a name="Page_98" id="Page_98"></a>sociability
+prevailing. But she startled them all by an exclamation.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Jack Parton, for pity's sake, sit up! and you too, Katherine; I cannot
+allow my guests to sit on their spines.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But it is so much more comfortable,&quot; protested lazy Jack, slowly screwing
+himself into a more erect position, while Katherine straightened up with a
+blush.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There seems to be something wrong with the spines of this generation, and
+the first thing you know it will react on their mental and moral natures.
+People without backbone are odious,&quot; Miss Betty continued.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I wish you children could have seen Miss Patricia Gilpin as I saw her
+once when I was a little child, more than thirty years ago. She was
+straight as an arrow and pretty as a picture. Such old ladies have gone
+out of fashion. I remember hearing her describe the backboard and spiked
+collar she wore for several hours each day when she was a child.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What was the spiked collar for?&quot; Rosalind asked.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;To keep her head in the correct position.&quot;<a name="Page_99" id="Page_99"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;I am glad I didn't live then,&quot; said Belle.</p>
+
+<p>At this point Miss Betty's sermon was interrupted by the appearance of a
+small, brown boy in a white apron, who announced supper.<a name="Page_100" id="Page_100"></a></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_NINTH" id="CHAPTER_NINTH" ></a>CHAPTER NINTH.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE LOST RING.</h3>
+
+<p class='center'>&quot;Wear this for me.&quot;</p>
+
+
+<p>The old mahogany table had never reflected a circle of brighter faces than
+gathered about it that evening to do justice to Sophy's good things served
+on Miss Hetty's pretty china.</p>
+
+<p>Rosalind at the left hand of her hostess looked around the company with
+frank enjoyment of the novelty of the occasion. These young people were
+very entertaining, particularly Belle; and more amusing than anything was
+the small waiter, at whom Miss Betty glanced so sternly when he showed a
+disposition to laugh at the jokes.</p>
+
+<p>It was when Miss Betty began to serve the strawberries that some one
+remarked on the old cream-pitcher of colonial glass, and thus started her
+on her favorite topic of the cream-jug <a name="Page_101" id="Page_101"></a>and sugar-dish that exactly
+matched her teapot and should have been hers.</p>
+
+<p>This was the first time Rosalind had heard mention of old Mr. Gilpin and
+the will.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My grandmother and Cousin Thomas's mother were sisters,&quot; Miss Betty
+explained, &quot;and when their father and mother died the family silver was
+divided between them. In this way the teapot came down to me, and some of
+the other pieces to Cousin Anne, who was, you know, Cousin Thomas's
+sister.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Was old Mr. Gilpin related to me, Cousin Betty?&quot; asked Rosalind.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, certainly, my dear; it is time you were learning about your
+relations. He was your grandfathers own cousin. Your great-grandmother was
+Mary Gilpin before she married Mr. Whittredge.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Rosalind looks puzzled,&quot; said Belle, laughing.</p>
+
+<p>Rosalind laughed too. &quot;I never knew about relations before. Does father
+know all this?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I should hope so; this is not much to know.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Miss Betty, you promised to tell us about the ring, sometime; Rosalind
+would like to hear <a name="Page_102" id="Page_102"></a>it, I am sure. Wouldn't you, Rosalind?&quot; asked Belle.</p>
+
+<p>Rosalind wished very much to hear it, and Miss Betty, with a glance around
+the table, remarked, &quot;I shall be glad to tell what I know if you care to
+have me, and Jack will sit up.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Send for a pillow, Miss Betty; that is what mother does,&quot; Belle
+suggested, to the delight of the small waiter, who was compelled to retire
+suddenly to the hall, where he was heard giggling.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As some of you know,&quot; Miss Betty began, &quot;the ring belonged to Miss
+Patricia Gilpin, who was an aunt of Cousin Thomas's, and your
+great-great-aunt, Rosalind. If it is still in existence, it is not far
+from eighty years old. You might suppose from the way in which they are
+spoken of now, that in the early part of the century all young women were
+beauties and belles; but if there is any truth in her miniature, Patricia
+Gilpin was a really beautiful woman.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Wasn't she married? I thought it was an engagement ring,&quot; said Charlotte.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It was, but she never married. The young naval officer to whom she was
+engaged was <a name="Page_103" id="Page_103"></a>killed in the War of 1812. They had known each other only a
+short time; it was love at first sight, I suppose. He had the ring made
+for her, and I always heard that she received it and the news of his death
+at nearly the same time. The last message she had from him was, 'Wear this
+for me,' which he had written on a card and enclosed with the ring; and
+she always wore it. She was a girl of eighteen at the time, and greatly
+admired; but she never forgot her lover.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Did she live in Friendship?&quot; Rosalind asked.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;During her father's lifetime this was her home. She was born in the old
+Gilpin house, which was new then; and perhaps you know that the rustic
+summer-house at the top of the hill on the left is called Patricia's
+arbor. For some years after her lover's death she lived in seclusion,
+seeing no one; and always when the weather permitted she would sit in the
+arbor, looking out upon the river.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It was said that this was the scene of their courtship, but it may be
+only a story.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;After her father's death she lived in Washington, but she often visited
+Cousin Anne in the <a name="Page_104" id="Page_104"></a>old place. As I have said, I remember seeing her and
+hearing her talk, when I was a child of six or seven. She was a stately
+and beautiful old lady, and as I recall it now, her face showed she had
+borne her share of trouble and disappointment bravely; and you can't say
+more than that for anybody.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That is what Cousin Louis says,&quot; remarked Rosalind, smiling at Maurice.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But you haven't told us what the ring was like,&quot; put in Charlotte.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I never could tell a straight story,&quot; replied Miss Betty, laughing.
+&quot;Well, it was a broad band of open lace-work of a most delicate and
+beautiful pattern, and made of pure gold. The stone was an oval sapphire
+of great depth and purity of color, in a setting of tiny stars, made of
+little points of gold. When Miss Patricia died she left the ring to Cousin
+Anne, her niece, along with many other valuable things. Cousin Anne never
+wore it, but she used to show it to me sometimes as a great treat, and I
+have tried it on more than once. Cousin Anne ought to have made a will;
+but at best she was an undecided person, and she had a long illness. It
+<a name="Page_105" id="Page_105"></a>was generally supposed she would leave it to your aunt Genevieve,
+Rosalind, or else to Patricia Marshall. Indeed, there were half a dozen of
+them who would have given their heads for it. Cousin Anne knew it, and she
+hated to disappoint anybody, so she ended by disappointing everybody.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why didn't she leave it to you. Miss Betty?&quot; asked Jack.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Miss Patricia was not related to me. She was aunt to Cousin Thomas and
+Cousin Anne on their father's side, and I am connected through the
+Barnwells, his mother's family, just as Rosalind's grandmother is,&quot; she
+explained; adding, &quot;As Cousin Anne left no will, everything she owned went
+to her brother; and you have all heard about his will. Most of his money
+was to go to the endowment of a hospital, all the other property to be
+sold and the proceeds divided among his first cousins or their children,
+except the ring and an old spinet that came to him through his wife. The
+first he left to Allan Whittredge, the other to Celia Fair.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;To Uncle Allan?&quot; asked Rosalind, greatly interested.<a name="Page_106" id="Page_106"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, and everybody wonders why. However, when they came to take an
+inventory, the ring was not to be found.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And they haven't the least idea what became of it,&quot; remarked Maurice.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I think it was stolen,&quot; said Miss Betty, &quot;although I acknowledge there is
+something mysterious about it. Cousin Thomas was subject to attacks of
+heart failure, and was found one evening unconscious in his arm-chair
+before the open door of the safe, where he kept his valuables. Morgan had
+left him an hour before, apparently as well as usual. He was discovered in
+this condition by old Milly, who is honest as the day, and she sent at
+once for Dr. Fair, next door, but it was some time before he could be
+found, and in the excitement it seems quite possible the ring might have
+been stolen. After Dr. Fair had partially revived the old man, he noticed
+the open safe and closed it. Cousin Thomas never regained consciousness
+entirely, and died the next day. It must have been a week before the ring
+was missed. The strange thing is that there were jewels of greater value
+in the safe, which were not disturbed.&quot;<a name="Page_107" id="Page_107"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;Don't you wish your uncle would give it to you if it is found?&quot; Charlotte
+asked Rosalind.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;In his will Mr. Gilpin said he left the ring to Allan, who was aware of
+his wishes in regard to it. I have no idea what those wishes were, but I
+hardly think he had Rosalind in mind,&quot; Miss Betty said, smiling.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Uncle Allan must know what he meant. How strange!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Like a story, isn't it?&quot; said Belle.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Have they looked everywhere for it?&quot; continued Rosalind.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes; the most, thorough search has been made, to no effect.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The rest of the evening was spent in games, and from the laughing that
+went on, Miss Betty's guests must have enjoyed themselves. When Martin
+came for her and Rosalind said good night to her new friends, she did not
+feel like the same girl who had had to go to the magician to be cheered a
+few days ago. The face she lifted to the stars as she walked home was very
+bright indeed.</p>
+
+<p>Grandmamma and Aunt Genevieve sat in the hall.<a name="Page_108" id="Page_108"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;Have you had a pleasant time?&quot; Mrs. Whittredge asked.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;A beautiful time, grandmamma. I do like to know people. And Miss Betty&mdash;I
+mean Cousin Betty&mdash;told us about the lost ring and&mdash;was she my
+aunt?&mdash;Patricia? Did you ever see her, grandmamma?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, a number of times. She visited at our house when I was a child. She
+died a few years after my marriage. Your Aunt Genevieve is thought to
+resemble the miniature done of her in her girlhood.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Rosalind looked in the direction of the arm-chair where her aunt half
+reclined, her eyes on a book, her clear profile in relief against the dark
+leather, the mellow lamp-light bringing out the copper tints in her hair.
+&quot;Then I know she must have been lovely,&quot; she said.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Whittredge laughed, and Genevieve lifted her eyes to ask, &quot;What is
+that?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Rosalind is sure Patricia Gilpin must have been handsome if you resemble
+her,&quot; her mother replied.</p>
+
+<p>Genevieve shrugged her shoulders, and her lips curled a little, although
+she smiled; &quot;Thank you, Rosalind,&quot; she said.<a name="Page_109" id="Page_109"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;I don't believe,&quot; thought Rosalind, as she slowly prepared for bed, &quot;that
+Miss Patricia&mdash;Aunt Patricia&mdash;looked as if she didn't care about anything.
+She bore hard things bravely, Miss Betty said, and I believe people who do
+that have a kind look.&quot; Here her glance fell upon the miniature on her
+dressing-table. The sweet eyes smiled on her. Taking it up she pressed it
+to her lips; &quot;Like you, my dear beautiful,&quot; she whispered.<a name="Page_110" id="Page_110"></a></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_TENTH" id="CHAPTER_TENTH" ></a>CHAPTER TENTH.</h2>
+
+<h3>CELIA.</h3>
+
+<p class='center'>&quot;One out of suits with fortune.&quot;</p>
+
+
+<p>&quot;O Celia!&quot; called Miss Betty Bishop, from her front door, &quot;come in a
+minute. I had a tea party last night, and I want to send your mother some
+of Sophy's marshmallow cake. I am so glad you happened by,&quot; she added, as
+Celia came up the walk, &quot;I was wondering how I should get it to her.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is very kind of you, Miss Betty,&quot; said Celia, following her into the
+dining room.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There is no kindness about it,&quot; asserted Miss Betty, opening the cake
+box. &quot;I am just proud of Sophy's good things and like to make other people
+envy me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That is not hard,&quot; Celia answered, thinking that life seemed easy and
+pleasant in this snug little house. Miss Betty had had her hard times, she
+knew, but the troubles of others are <a name="Page_111" id="Page_111"></a>apt to seem easier to bear than
+one's own, just as in bad weather the best walking is always on the other
+side of the street.</p>
+
+<p>Celia was warm and tired, and the dim, cool room was grateful to her as
+she sat resting in silence while Miss Betty fluttered back and forth.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Perhaps you'll think I'd better mind my own business,&quot; she said,
+returning after a moment's absence, &quot;but here is something I saw in the
+<i>Gazette</i>. It might be worth trying.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Celia knew by heart the advertisement held out to her. &quot;Work at home.
+Fifteen dollars a week made with ease, etc.&quot; She accepted it meekly,
+however, not wishing to hurt her friend's feelings.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Talking about minding your own business,&quot; continued Miss Betty, &quot;in my
+experience it does not pay. I once saw Cousin Anne Gilpin looking at
+taffeta at Moseley's, and I knew as well as I knew my name that the piece
+she selected wouldn't wear. At first I thought I'd tell her; then I
+decided it was none of my business,&mdash;Cousin Anne was old enough to know
+about the quality of silk. And what do you think? She <a name="Page_112" id="Page_112"></a>sent me a waist
+pattern off it for a Christmas gift!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Celia laughed as she rose to go. &quot;Thank you for the cake, even if it isn't
+a kindness. Mother will enjoy it,&quot; she said.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You haven't noticed my hall paper,&quot; Miss Betty remarked, escorting her
+visitor to the door. &quot;I don't expect you to say it is pretty, for it
+isn't. I have to confess wall paper is too much for me. This entry is so
+small I could not put anything big and bright on it, so I thought I was
+getting the very thing when I selected this,&mdash;and what does it look like?
+Nothing in the world but a clean calico dress. Now it is done I see it
+would have been better with plain paper.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is clean and unobtrusive,&quot; Celia agreed, smiling. Her smiles were a
+little forced this morning, it was easy to see; and Miss Betty, laying a
+kind hand on her arm, said, &quot;Don't worry too much, Celia. I know something
+about hard times, and you will work through after a while.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Celia felt the tears rising, and she left Miss Betty with an abruptness
+that made her ashamed <a name="Page_113" id="Page_113"></a>of herself as she recalled it. After the exertion
+of climbing the hill she stopped to rest on the rustic seat just inside
+her own gate. &quot;I wonder,&quot; she asked herself, &quot;if there is anything much
+harder to bear than seeing a house you love going to ruin and not to be
+able to save it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>A branch of the honeysuckle that twined about the gate-post touched her
+shoulder, as if to remind her there was still some sweetness in life after
+all; but she did not heed it, nor the rose vines and clematis which made
+the old gray house beautiful in spite of needed repairs. Celia saw only
+rotting woodwork and sagging steps. She thought how the flower garden had
+been her father's pride, and how in his spare moments, few as they were,
+he was sure to be found digging and trimming and training, with the
+happiness of the born gardener. Ah, those days! She remembered the
+half-incredulous wonder with which she had been used to hear people speak
+of the certainty of trouble. She had felt so certain that joy overbalanced
+sorrow, that smiles were more frequent than tears. Now she understood,
+since she had tried to hide her own grief under a smiling face.<a name="Page_114" id="Page_114"></a></p>
+
+<p>From her babyhood she had been her father's companion and confidante,
+driving about the country with him, interested in all that concerned his
+large practice. A warm-hearted, impulsive man, open handed to the point of
+extravagance, Dr. Fair had had few enemies and many friends; and loving
+his work, life had been full of joy to him. In contrast with those happy
+years the bitterness of his last days seemed doubly cruel to Celia.
+Whenever she was tired and discouraged, the memory of that dark time rose
+before her.</p>
+
+<p>She had been only a child when Patterson Whittredge left home, but she
+could remember how warmly her father had taken his side, and how this had
+caused the first coolness between him and his boyhood friend, Judge
+Whittredge. The judge was influenced by his wife, and between the stubborn
+doctor and imperious Mrs. Whittredge there had been no love lost.</p>
+
+<p>The storm had passed after a while, and when the judge's health began to
+fail Dr. Fair had been called in. But Mrs. Whittredge had not forgotten,
+and the doctor's position was not an easy one. Only his devotion to his
+old friend <a name="Page_115" id="Page_115"></a>had kept him from giving up the case at the beginning. The
+Gilpin will and her father's testimony to the old man's sanity had added
+to the trouble, and upon this had come the accusation which, whispered
+about, had broken the doctor's heart. Harassed by the hard times and the
+failure of investments, denied a place at the bedside of his friend, he
+had fallen an easy victim to pneumonia, outliving Judge Whittredge only a
+few days. The memory of it lay like lead upon Celia's heart.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have left you nothing but a heritage of misfortune, Celia,&quot; had been
+his last words to her.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Don't think of that, father; I'll manage,&quot; she answered; and she had
+tried, but the solving of the problem was costing her the bloom of her
+youth. There were the two brothers to be educated, and a delicate, almost
+invalid mother to be cared for, and an income that would little more than
+pay the taxes on their home. To sell or rent it was not at present
+practicable, and she could not take boarders, for no one boarded in
+Friendship. Neither could she leave to try her fortune in the city, so she
+had been doing <a name="Page_116" id="Page_116"></a>whatever her hand found to do. Sewing, embroidering, a
+little teaching, and, in season, pickling and preserving. Friends had been
+kind, but Celia was proud and determined to fight her own battle, and
+sometimes, as this morning, kindness made her burden seem harder to bear.</p>
+
+<p>The worst of it was the root of bitterness in her heart. She could never
+forgive Mrs. Whittredge. Few guessed the intensity hidden beneath Celia's
+gentle manner. Only now and then a spark from her dark blue eyes revealed
+it. The general construction put upon her proud reserve was that she was
+unsociable.</p>
+
+<p>There is no loneliness like that of the unforgiving heart. Celia had never
+felt it so strongly as after her meeting with Rosalind Whittredge in the
+cemetery. There had been something in the soft gaze of the gray eyes that
+she could not forget. It had made her take up the rose again after she
+flung it away and carry it home with her.</p>
+
+<p>But she must not linger here any longer. There was an order from the
+Exchange in the city which should be promptly filled if she hoped <a name="Page_117" id="Page_117"></a>for
+others. As she rose she confronted Morgan entering the gate.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Good morning,&quot; he said, and there was an odd sort of embarrassment in his
+manner as he added, &quot;Some of your window frames need fixing, Miss Celia.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>She smiled and shook her head. &quot;Can't afford it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Miss Celia, let me do it, I've lots of time, and the doctor was very good
+to me,&quot; he said.</p>
+
+<p>Again Celia shook her head, but the hurt look on Morgan's face made her
+relent. &quot;Well, perhaps the worst ones,&quot; she spelled. She would trust to
+being able to make it up to him sometime.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That's right,&quot; he exclaimed, joyfully, adding, as he turned to go, &quot;Don't
+you worry, Miss Celia. There's good in it somewhere.&quot;<a name="Page_118" id="Page_118"></a></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_ELEVENTH" id="CHAPTER_ELEVENTH" ></a>CHAPTER ELEVENTH.</h2>
+
+<h3>MAKING FRIENDS.</h3>
+
+<p class='center'>&quot;Is not that neighborly?&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<p>Miss Betty's tea party was the beginning of a new and happier state of
+affairs for Rosalind; one pleasant thing followed another. There were
+letters from the travellers, long and delightful and full of the genial
+spirit of the Forest, making her more than ever certain that they and she
+were alike journeying beneath its shelter, and at some turn of the road
+would surely meet again.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Whittredge also had a letter, &quot;I trust you will not keep Rosalind
+secluded,&quot; her son wrote. &quot;I want her to have companions of her own age,
+and to learn to know and love the old town as I loved it. She has lived
+too much with Louis and me and story books; it is time she was waking up.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>This explains why the Roberts children and <a name="Page_119" id="Page_119"></a>the Partons received special
+invitations to call on Rosalind. Friendship began to seem to her a very
+different place as her acquaintance with it grew and neighborly relations
+were established with Maurice and Katherine. The gap in the hedge became a
+daily meeting-place, and grew slowly, but steadily, wider.</p>
+
+<p>A few days after the tea party, Katherine asked Rosalind to go out to the
+creek with her, and on the way they stopped for Belle. While she went to
+find her hat, Rosalind made the acquaintance of the colonel and several
+dogs. Then the three strolled along the wide street, under the shade of
+tall maples, past pleasant gardens and inviting houses, until the street
+turned into a country road, and before them was Red Hill and the little
+bridge over Friendly Creek at its foot.</p>
+
+<p>Under the bridge the water rippled and splashed over the stones, and out
+of sight, back somewhere among the trees, it could be heard rushing over a
+dam. The children seated themselves on a bit of pebbly beach.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How nice to be near the real country!&quot; Rosalind exclaimed. &quot;At home we
+are near the <a name="Page_120" id="Page_120"></a>park, but that is not the real country. We have to go miles
+to get there.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But there are such lovely stores and things in the city,&quot; said Katherine.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Still, you can't go about by yourself, as you can here,&quot; Rosalind
+answered; and Belle added, &quot;I like to go to the city for a little while,
+but I'd rather live in Friendship, where the houses aren't so close
+together.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>As they sat there, throwing stones in the water and writing in the sand,
+Rosalind heard a great deal about school, which would close next
+week,&mdash;how the girls had rushed to the window to see her and had lost
+their recess, and how Belle had been sent to the office, besides, for
+making chalk dishes. It was all very amusing, but she could not understand
+why the girls wanted to see her.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, you know they are all interested in your house, and in Miss
+Genevieve; and then everybody was surprised at your coming to visit your
+grandmother.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I can't see why,&quot; Rosalind said, opening her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, well&mdash;because you never had before, you <a name="Page_121" id="Page_121"></a>know.&quot; Belle's manner was
+hesitating, as if she felt conscious of being on dangerous ground.</p>
+
+<p>What she said was certainly true. Rosalind herself did not exactly
+understand it. She knew only that there had been some reason why her
+father had not visited his old home for many years. She wondered if these
+girls knew more about it than she.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You see, you are something new,&quot; Belle added, laughing. &quot;Didn't Miss
+Celia scold us that morning, Katherine?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, no, Belle, she didn't exactly scold,&quot; said Katherine.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;She didn't throw back her head and frown and say 'Young ladies, I am
+amazed!'&quot;&mdash;here Bell gave an excellent imitation of Mrs. Graham's
+manner&mdash;&quot;so you don't call it scolding. She just said, 'Girls, I don't
+know what to think!' and we felt as mean! I love Miss Celia.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;So do I,&quot; echoed Katherine.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Is she one of your teachers?&quot; Rosalind asked.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes; she is Miss Celia Fair. She teaches drawing and sometimes keeps
+study hour, and <a name="Page_122" id="Page_122"></a>she is as sweet as she can be,&quot; Belle concluded, with
+enthusiasm.</p>
+
+<p>The name brought to mind one of Rosalind's greatest puzzles,&mdash;the
+hillside, the young lady who looked as if she might be as Belle described
+her&mdash;sweet; the strange incident of the rose, and Aunt Genevieve's words,
+&quot;We have nothing to do with the Fairs.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I saw her once,&quot; she remarked gravely.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I forgot the Fairs and the Whittredges don't speak. Perhaps you know
+about it,&quot; said Belle.</p>
+
+<p>Rosalind shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I think it was about the will; wasn't it, Katherine? Mrs. Whittredge
+wanted to break it because she thought Mr. Gilpin was crazy, but Dr. Fair
+said he wasn't, and testified in court.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Rosalind listened with interest. &quot;Isn't Dr. Fair dead?&quot; she asked.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes. He used to be our doctor, and I liked him so much.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The Fairs have lost all their money now, so Miss Celia has to teach and
+do all sorts of things,&quot; Katherine remarked.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Her name belongs to the Forest,&quot; thought<a name="Page_123" id="Page_123"></a> Rosalind, looking at the
+ripples, Belle had thrown herself back and was gazing at the sky from
+under her hat brim; Katherine was busy with a collection of pebbles; the
+stillness was broken only by the hum of insects and the murmur of Friendly
+Creek. Suddenly Rosalind seemed to hear with perfect distinctness what it
+said,</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Be fr-ie-nds, be fr-ie-nds,&quot; with a little trill on the words.</p>
+
+<p>From experience she knew very little of unfriendliness. All this about
+quarrels and having nothing to do with people was new to her. As she
+considered it she remembered that Oliver hated Orlando, and Rosalind's
+uncle had treated her and her father unkindly, in the story. &quot;But it all
+came right in the end,&quot; she told herself, &quot;when they met in the Forest.&quot;
+It was a cheering thought, and she smiled over it.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What are you smiling at?&quot; Belle asked, sitting up.</p>
+
+<p>Rosalind's eyes had a far-away look as she replied, &quot;I was thinking about
+the Forest.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What forest?&quot; Belle began to ask, when a curly dog rushed down upon them,
+and on the <a name="Page_124" id="Page_124"></a>bridge above their heads they saw the magician waving his
+hand.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, Curly Q. How are you?&quot; cried Rosalind.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There's Morgan,&quot; said Belle; &quot;you know him, don't you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Of course I do. I took tea with him last week,&quot; Rosalind answered,
+laughing.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And, Belle, she calls him the 'magician,'&quot; Katherine said.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Do you? Why?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Because he is one. Didn't you know it?&quot; Rosalind danced up the slope,
+with Curly Q. after her.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Rosalind says you are a magician. Are you?&quot; Belle spelled rapidly when
+they had joined Morgan on the bridge.</p>
+
+<p>The old man's eyes twinkled as he replied, &quot;That's a secret; you mustn't
+tell anybody.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Ask him if he knows about the Forest,&quot; said Rosalind.</p>
+
+<p>Belle asked the question.</p>
+
+<p>Morgan laughed. &quot;'Where the birds sing&mdash;'&quot; he quoted.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Tell me about it, please,&quot; begged Belle. &quot;Does Katherine know?&quot;<a name="Page_125" id="Page_125"></a></p>
+
+<p>Rosalind promised she would sometime; and as Katherine did not know
+either, and as it was growing late, Belle agreed to wait.</p>
+
+<p>It was rather an odd and pleasant sight, if any one had stopped to think
+of it&mdash;the old man with his bright, wistful eyes, his tool box on his
+shoulder, and his three companions, walking home together. Demure
+Katherine, dainty Rosalind, saucy Belle,&mdash;all as merry as merry could
+be,&mdash;and Curly Q. running in and out among them in an ecstasy of delight,
+and at imminent danger of upsetting somebody.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, Pigeon, how do you like your new friend?&quot; asked the colonel, as his
+daughter took her seat beside him on the door-step.</p>
+
+<p>Belle gazed thoughtfully across the lawn. &quot;I like her,&quot; she answered, &quot;but
+she is funny. I suppose it is because she hasn't gone much to school. She
+isn't like Charlotte, or Katherine, or me. She isn't prim, and yet&mdash;it is
+queer, father, but she makes me feel as I do when I am with Miss
+Celia&mdash;like behaving.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The colonel laughed his hearty ha, ha! &quot;I hope you'll cultivate her
+society,&quot; he said, adding, &quot;she is like Pat, as high-toned a fellow <a name="Page_126" id="Page_126"></a>as
+ever lived. He was something of a dreamer, too, and this child has the
+eyes of a poet.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;They are gray,&quot; remarked Belle. &quot;But I know what you mean, father; she
+looks as if she saw things far away. She was looking so this afternoon,
+and when I asked her what she was thinking about she said 'the forest.' I
+don't know what she meant, but Morgan knew.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You have plenty of sense,&quot; said her father, looking fondly upon her.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Of course I have, I am your child,&quot; laughed Belle, jumping up to give him
+a hug.<a name="Page_127" id="Page_127"></a></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_TWELFTH" id="CHAPTER_TWELFTH" ></a>CHAPTER TWELFTH.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE GILPIN PLACE.</h3>
+
+<p class='center'>&quot;This is the Forest of Arden.&quot;</p>
+
+
+
+<p>Rosalind, walking in the garden next morning, heard her name called from
+the other side of the hedge.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Is that you, Maurice?&quot; she asked, bending to peep through the narrow
+opening where they had first become acquainted.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes; don't you want to go up to the Gilpin place?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'd rather go there than anywhere,&quot; Rosalind assented eagerly, &quot;I am so
+interested in Aunt Patricia and the ring.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The house is closed, you know, but the grounds are pretty. I'll meet you
+at the gate whenever you are ready,&quot; Maurice answered.</p>
+
+<p>He considered Rosalind his special friend by right of first acquaintance,
+and had no thought of allowing Katherine or Belle to get the advantage <a name="Page_128" id="Page_128"></a>of
+him, and for this reason he had planned the expedition. He also wished to
+talk over &quot;As You Like It&quot; without interruption, and was decidedly
+provoked when she called to Katherine, who was shelling peas on the side
+porch, &quot;We are going to the Gilpin place; can't you come when you have
+finished?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Katherine, who had tried in vain to find out from Maurice where he was
+going, was more than delighted at the invitation.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It would have been nicer if we had stayed to help her,&quot; Rosalind
+remarked, as they walked up the street.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Girls' work,&quot; Maurice growled.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, I am a girl. And why shouldn't boys shell peas? They eat them.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Maurice scorned such logic, but her eyes were so merry it was with an
+effort he kept himself from smiling.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Katherine is such a bother,&quot; he said.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I like Katherine; she is so pleasant,&quot; Rosalind observed, with a side
+glance at her companion.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Perhaps you'd rather go with her and have me stay at home?&quot; he suggested,
+with much dignity.<a name="Page_129" id="Page_129"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;And shell peas?&quot; Rosalind laughed.</p>
+
+<p>What a provoking girl this was! And yet he liked her, and somehow at the
+vision of himself shelling peas he couldn't help laughing, too, and thus
+harmony was restored.</p>
+
+<p>After climbing the hill, a good deal of exertion for Maurice with his
+crutch, they paused to rest on the steps leading up from the gate of the
+Gilpin place.</p>
+
+<p>Rosalind, looking at the dignified mansion among the trees, felt the
+atmosphere of mysterious interest that always surrounds a closed and
+deserted house, particularly an old one upon which several generations
+have left their impress. She thought of the young and lovely Patricia, and
+the sailor lover who never came back.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Do you know, I feel very sorry for Aunt Patricia, Maurice. To have some
+one you love never come back&mdash;it must be very hard. I can understand a
+little now since father and cousin Louis went away. Miss Betty said she
+bore it bravely, too.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It was a long time ago,&quot; said Maurice, feeling that it was a waste of
+emotion to grieve over things that had happened so far back in the past.<a name="Page_130" id="Page_130"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;But there is the ring. It is not so very long ago since that was here.
+Don't you wish we could go into the house and look for it? I believe it is
+there somewhere;&quot; Rosalind spoke with assurance.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But they searched every nook and cranny,&quot; said Maurice.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;If it were in a story, there would be a secret drawer somewhere. I wonder
+if Aunt Patricia isn't sorry it is lost.&quot; Rosalind sat in silence for a
+few moments, looking down at the town. &quot;I like Friendship,&quot; she said.
+&quot;There are a great many interesting things happening here, more than ever
+happen at home.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The Gilpin house stood on an elevation of its own, from which the ground
+sloped gently in all directions. Its late owner had cared little for
+flowers and shrubs, but had taken pride in his trees, which still
+preserved the dignity of their forest days. At the back of the house there
+was a view of the little winding river, and halfway down the slope a once
+flourishing vegetable garden had turned itself into a picturesque
+wilderness of weeds. The charm of it all grew upon Rosalind as they walked
+about.<a name="Page_131" id="Page_131"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;I should like to live here, Maurice. I like it better than our
+garden&mdash;grandmamma's, I mean. Let's sit on the grass, where we can see the
+river.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Not far from them was the rustic summer-house which Miss Betty had called
+Patricia's arbor.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Maurice,&quot; Rosalind exclaimed, with conviction in her tone, &quot;this is the
+Forest of Arden.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You talk about it as if it were all true, instead of only a story,&quot; said
+Maurice.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But it is true&mdash;one kind of true. Cousin Louis explained it to me
+once&mdash;ever so long ago, when I had a sore throat and couldn't go to the
+Christmas tree, at the president's. I cried and was dreadfully cross, and
+wouldn't look at my Christmas things; and after a while he asked me if I
+should like to live in the Forest of Arden. I was so surprised I stopped
+crying, and he told me that when we were brave and happy, we made a
+pleasant place for ourselves, where lovely things could happen, and when
+we were cross and miserable we made a desert for ourselves, where pleasant
+things couldn't possibly come about, just as if you want flowers to grow,
+you have to have good soil.<a name="Page_132" id="Page_132"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;Cousin Louis can tell things in a very interesting way, and by and by I
+began to feel ashamed, and I made up my mind to try it; and when I told
+father, he said he would try too, and we found it was really true,
+Maurice. He and Cousin Louis and I&mdash;oh, we had such good times! We even
+told the president about it, and Cousin Louis said he was going to start a
+secret society of the Forest of Arden. Then he was ill, and everything
+stopped.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I know it isn't easy to stay in the Forest always, particularly when you
+are dreadfully lonesome, but the magician says if you keep on trying you
+will find the good in it after a while.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How can there be good in bad things?&quot; Maurice demanded.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Did you read what was in my book? I know it by heart. 'If we choose, we
+may walk always in the Forest, where the birds sing and the sunlight sifts
+through the trees, where, although we sometimes grow footsore and hungry,
+we know that the goal is sure.' That means it will all come right in the
+end. Don't you know how, in the story, the people who hated each other all
+came to be friends in the Forest?&quot;<a name="Page_133" id="Page_133"></a></p>
+
+<p>The sun travelling around the beech tree encroached upon their
+resting-place, and Maurice proposed moving farther down the slope. &quot;Tell
+me about the secret society,&quot; he said, as they again settled themselves.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It was a very nice plan,&quot; Rosalind answered, clasping her knees and
+looking up into the tree top. &quot;He told me about it one evening when he
+wasn't well and had to lie on the sofa, while father did the proofs. Only
+those could belong who made the best of things and knew the secret of the
+Forest. We were sure the president would join because he had had a great
+trouble and was very brave; and there was Mrs. Brown, who had lost all her
+money, and kept house for us. Then, I didn't have anything much to be
+brave about, but I have since, for I did so want to go with father and
+Cousin Louis. Perhaps that doesn't seem much,&quot; she added apologetically,
+&quot;'but small things count,' Cousin Louis said.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I should think it might,&quot; Maurice agreed.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Aunt Patricia could have belonged,&quot; said Rosalind, her eyes still in the
+tree top. &quot;I wonder if she knew about the Forest?&quot;<a name="Page_134" id="Page_134"></a></p>
+
+<p>Maurice felt stirred by the picture her words called up of a great company
+of people all bearing hard things bravely. &quot;There is Morgan,&quot; he
+suggested. &quot;It must be hard to be deaf, yet he is always cheerful.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, indeed, he could belong. He knows the secret of the Forest. And
+Maurice, you have a beautiful chance to be brave.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Maurice's face grew red, he pushed his crutch impatiently from him. &quot;I
+haven't been brave,&quot; he said.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, you haven't,&quot; Rosalind acknowledged frankly; &quot;but then you did not
+know about the Forest. Maurice, let's start a society, you and I, and
+perhaps some of the others will join. The magician will, I know.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>A shrill whistle was heard at this moment.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is Jack,&quot; said Maurice; and sure enough that individual presently
+appeared and dropped down beside them, breathless from his run up the
+hill.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What are you two doing?&quot; he puffed.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Talking. How warm you are!&quot; and Rosalind offered her broad-brimmed hat
+for a fan. &quot;Have you seen anything of Katharine?&quot;<a name="Page_135" id="Page_135"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;She and Belle are on the way. Say, what were you talking about? It seemed
+to be interesting.&quot; Jack rolled over on his back and blinked at the sky.</p>
+
+<p>Rosalind looked at Maurice. &quot;Would you tell him?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No,&quot; was the prompt reply, &quot;he wouldn't care for it.&quot; He felt certain
+harum-scarum Jack would only be bored by the Forest, perhaps would make
+fun.</p>
+
+<p>Jack turned his face to Rosalind, &quot;Tell me,&quot; he urged; &quot;Maurice doesn't
+know what I like.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I will, then, as soon as the girls come.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>It was not long before Belle was heard calling, and she and Katherine came
+running across the grass and joined the group under the tree.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We are waiting for you; Jack wants to hear about the Forest,&quot; said
+Rosalind.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, you promised to tell us what you meant, and how Morgan came to know
+about it.&quot; Belle cast her hat on the grass and shook back her hair.</p>
+
+<p>Maurice looked discontented. Jack and Belle would think it silly, and
+Katherine wouldn't understand.<a name="Page_136" id="Page_136"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;Maurice knows about it, and perhaps some of the rest of you have read the
+story of the Forest of Arden,&quot; began Rosalind.</p>
+
+<p>Belle had, but Katherine and Jack had not so much as heard of it, so
+Rosalind told the story of the banished Duke and his followers who lived
+in the Forest, and were happy because they had learned to make the best of
+things and to find good even in trouble and disappointment; how Rosalind,
+the daughter of the Duke, was also banished, and with her cousin and the
+clown went to seek her father in the Forest; how Orlando, turned out of
+his home by his cruel elder brother, also went to the Forest in company
+with his old servant Adam; of their adventures there; and how finally the
+wicked Duke and the heartless brother, who were pursuing the runaways,
+came under the spell of the same Forest and repented of their evil deeds;
+and the story ended in forgiveness and love under the greenwood tree.</p>
+
+<p>It was just the day and place for the story. The joyous, lavish beauty of
+summer was everywhere around them, and as Rosalind told it her eyes took
+on the look Belle had described to her father. There was silence after she
+finished. Jack <a name="Page_137" id="Page_137"></a>lay with his head on his arms, looking out on the river;
+Maurice was drawing beech leaves in his note-book, the discontent all gone
+from his face; Belle absently plaited the hem of her dress; while
+Katherine twisted a wreath of honeysuckle around her hat.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Is that all?&quot; Belle asked, after a little.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That is the story; then I was telling Maurice about the meaning Cousin
+Louis found in it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Tell us that,&quot; said Jack.</p>
+
+<p>Rosalind explained the Forest idea, and the plan for a secret society.
+This at once appealed to Belle.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That would be fun,&quot; she exclaimed. &quot;We could have 'The Forest' for a
+watchword, and hold meetings out of doors somewhere.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes; 'under the greenwood tree,'&quot; said Maurice.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I don't understand,&quot; said Katherine. &quot;What are we to do?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We promise to bear hard things bravely, and&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Let's be like Robin Hood,&quot; Belle interrupted, &quot;and help down-trodden
+people.&quot;<a name="Page_138" id="Page_138"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;Do you know any?&quot; asked her brother, turning over.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Jack makes me think of the dormouse in 'Alice,'&quot; laughed Rosalind. &quot;He is
+always going to sleep and waking up.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'll tell you!&quot; cried Belle, &quot;let's search for the ring.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But we don't know where to look,&quot; said Katherine.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;A thing isn't much lost if you know where to look, goosie,&quot; answered
+Maurice.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You see, it is partly pretend,&quot; Rosalind explained. &quot;I think it is a
+beautiful idea, don't you, boys?&quot; she asked.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Maurice, are you going to promise to bear hard things bravely?&quot; Jack
+asked, with a quizzical look. It seemed to tickle him greatly, for he went
+off into a fit of laughing. &quot;'See, the conquering hero comes,'&quot; he hummed.</p>
+
+<p>Maurice pave him a thump with his crutch. &quot;You aren't much of a hero,
+either,&quot; he said. &quot;Who took the roof off when his tooth was pulled?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But that hurt,&quot; said Jack, still laughing.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I am willing to own I have been making an <a name="Page_139" id="Page_139"></a>awful fuss, but someway I
+hadn't thought about it, and I am willing to try if the rest are.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But I haven't any trouble,&quot; said Katherine.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Everybody has hard things to bear sometimes,&quot; replied Rosalind.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Doesn't Maurice ever snub you?&quot; asked irrepressible Jack.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What shall we call our society?&quot; Rosalind inquired, looking around the
+group for suggestions.</p>
+
+<p>Maurice tore a leaf from his note-book and divided it carefully into five
+parts, handing a slip to each of his companions.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now be still for a while and think, and then write down a name.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>All was quiet for a time. &quot;Now,&quot; said Maurice, &quot;what is yours, Rosalind?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The Secret Society of the Forest,&quot; said Rosalind.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Sons and Daughters of the Forest,&quot; announced Belle.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The Forest Society,&quot; said Jack.</p>
+
+<p>Katherine had not been able to think of a name. Maurice's was &quot;The Arden
+Foresters,&quot; suggested, he said, by Belle's &quot;Robin Hood.&quot;<a name="Page_140" id="Page_140"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;I believe it is the best,&quot; said Rosalind, and so they all agreed finally,
+and the new society was named.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now we must have a book and write in it what we promise,&quot; said Belle.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Let's appoint Rosalind and Maurice to draw up a&mdash;what do you call it?&quot;
+suggested Jack.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I know,&quot; said Belle; &quot;a constitution.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I meant to go into Patricia's Arbor, and I forgot,&quot; remarked Rosalind, as
+they walked home together.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I thought I saw some one sitting there when Belle and I passed,&quot; said
+Katherine.<a name="Page_141" id="Page_141"></a></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_THIRTEENTH" id="CHAPTER_THIRTEENTH" ></a>CHAPTER THIRTEENTH.</h2>
+
+<h3>IN PATRICIA'S ARBOR.</h3>
+
+<p class='center'>&quot;O, how full of briers is this working-day world.&quot;</p>
+
+
+<p>On this same bright morning when Rosalind for the first time saw the
+Gilpin place, Celia Fair carried her sewing, a piece of dainty lace work,
+to the old rustic summer-house. It made some variety in the monotony of
+things to sit here where she could lift her eyes now and then, and looking
+far away across the river to the hills, let them rest on a bit of sunny
+road that for a little space emerged from the shadow to disappear again on
+its winding way.</p>
+
+<p>On this stretch, of road the sunshine seemed always to lie warm and
+bright, and to Celia it brought a sense of restfulness. Perhaps in some
+far-off time the sunlight would again lie on her path.</p>
+
+<p>She loved the old place, and the thought that in all probability it would
+soon pass into the <a name="Page_142" id="Page_142"></a>hands of strangers, troubled her. She had often sat
+here in Patricia's Arbor, beside old Thomas Gilpin, and listened to his
+reminiscences. She had been a favorite with the old man, all of the
+tenderness of whose nature had spent itself upon the wife who lived only a
+brief time; and in Celia's relationship to her, distant though it was, lay
+the secret of his regard.</p>
+
+<p>One of her earliest recollections was of taking tea at the Gilpin house in
+company with Genevieve and Allan Whittredge. Mild, fair-faced Miss Anne
+and her grim-visaged, cross-grained brother were a strangely assorted
+pair. Celia's childish soul had been filled with awe on these occasions.
+She had difficulty in keeping her seat in the stiff old haircloth chairs,
+or in crossing the polished floor of the drawing-room without slipping.</p>
+
+<p>At one end of this room stood the ancient spinet, long ago the property of
+her own great-grandmother, which she was told would some day be hers.
+Celia had been proud of this until Miss Anne, displaying her chief
+treasures, Patricia's miniature and ring, remarked upon Genevieve's
+likeness to her great-aunt. Genevieve, <a name="Page_143" id="Page_143"></a>with the ring on her finger,
+looked complacently over her shoulder at the long mirror, and Celia was
+smitten with sudden envy. A great-grandmother called Saint Cecilia was not
+half so interesting as a beautiful great-aunt with a romantic love story;
+and an old and useless spinet not to be compared to a ring like
+Patricia's. That the ring was to be Genevieve's she never doubted.</p>
+
+<p>Allan had made fun of his sister and treated heirlooms in general with
+scorn, calling Celia to look at a print of Jonah in knee breeches and shoe
+buckles, emerging front the mouth of the whale. Allan always saw the fun
+in things.</p>
+
+<p>Between those days and the present there was a great gulf fixed. She had
+resolutely put away from her all these memories, and to-day she was
+annoyed that they should return in such force. They brought only pain to
+her tired heart.</p>
+
+<p>Her hands fell in her lap, and she gazed with unseeing eyes at the hills.
+After all, Patricia, mourning her lover, had not known the bitterest
+sorrow.</p>
+
+<p>The thought of her work, which must be done, aroused her. &quot;What a weak
+creature I am, thinking <a name="Page_144" id="Page_144"></a>my lot harder than that of any one else,&quot; she
+exclaimed, and taking up her needle she determinedly fixed her mind on the
+present. There was the suit Tom needed, and the grocery bill that should
+be paid the first of the month. She must work hard and not waste time in
+regrets. The summer that meant leisure and pleasure for many, meant only
+added cares for her.</p>
+
+<p>A surprising announcement broke in upon these dreary thoughts: &quot;This is
+the Forest of Arden!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The voice was a sweet, girlish one, and came from somewhere behind the
+arbor, but the vines grew so thick she could not get a glimpse of the
+speaker. Celia went on with her work, feeling at first a little annoyed
+that her quiet should be disturbed, yet the suggestion of sylvan joy in
+the words grew upon her. The Forest of Arden&mdash;where they fleeted the time
+carelessly&mdash;what a rest for tired spirits it seemed to offer!</p>
+
+<p>&quot;If we will, we may travel always in the Forest, where the birds sing and
+the sunlight sifts through the trees&mdash;&quot; the same voice repeated. A stir of
+wind set the leaves rustling, and Celia lost the rest.<a name="Page_145" id="Page_145"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;That means it will all come right in the end.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The people who hated each other all came to be friends in the Forest.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Fragments like these floated in to Celia. Then she heard Maurice Roberta's
+voice saying, &quot;Let's go farther down the slope.&quot; She went to the door of
+the arbor and looked out. As she had suspected, Maurice's companion was
+the girl she had encountered in the cemetery, Rosalind carried her hat in
+her hand, and as they crossed an open space the sunshine turned her hair
+to gold.</p>
+
+<p>Celia went back to her work. &quot;It will all come right in the end,&quot;&mdash;this
+was what Morgan had told her yesterday; it was strange that this child
+should cross her path again, and with the same message.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Even people who hated each other came to be friends in the Forest.&quot; To
+travel always in the Forest! How restful the idea! How would it seem not
+to hate anybody? To be really at peace? But it was not possible for her.</p>
+
+<p>Her thoughts would persist in dwelling upon Rosalind Whittredge. Again she
+recalled with shame the impulse that made her scorn the rose. She <a name="Page_146" id="Page_146"></a>was
+glad she had picked it up and carried it home. Why should she have any
+feeling against Patterson Whittredge's daughter? Had not her father taken
+Patterson's side in the family trouble over his marriage? Ah, but that was
+long ago, and it was hard to forget that Rosalind, with her sweet, serious
+eyes, was after all Mrs. Whittredge's granddaughter, Genevieve's niece.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I wish she wasn't, and that I could see her and speak to her, and ask her
+what she means by the Forest,&quot; she thought. &quot;She is gentle and sweet; she
+is not like the Whittredges. Why should I dislike her because she belongs
+to them? Oh, it is dreadful to hate people!&quot; Celia hid her face in her
+hands, &quot;but I do&mdash;I do,&quot; she added.<a name="Page_147" id="Page_147"></a></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_FOURTEENTH" id="CHAPTER_FOURTEENTH" ></a>CHAPTER FOURTEENTH</h2>
+
+<h3>THE ARDEN FORESTERS</h3>
+
+<p class='center'>&quot;Like the old Robin Hood of England.&quot;</p>
+
+
+<p>&quot;Article I. This Society shall be called 'The Arden Foresters,'&quot; read
+Maurice. &quot;That will do, won't it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes; and then let's put the object. It doesn't come next in this, but we
+shan't need so many articles,&quot; Rosalind answered, running her finger down
+the page of a blue bound book.</p>
+
+<p>The committee appointed to draw up a constitution for The Arden Foresters
+had set about it with great seriousness. Their surroundings may have had
+something to do with this, for their papers were spread out on the
+leather-covered table in the directors' room at the bank, immediately
+under the eye of a former president, whose portrait hung over the
+mantel-piece, while the large-faced clock on the wall gave forth its
+majestic &quot;tick, lock.&quot;<a name="Page_148" id="Page_148"></a></p>
+
+<p>The blue book which was serving as a model, Rosalind had found on her
+aunt's table, and asked permission to use.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, then, 'Article II. The object of this Society shall be, To remember
+the Secret of the Forest; to bear hard things bravely; to search for the
+ring&mdash;' Anything else?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Maurice, that is beautiful. Is there anything else?&quot; Rosalind pressed her
+lips with a forefinger.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Belle wanted to have 'to help the needy,' or something of the kind.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The down-trodden,&quot; said Rosalind, laughing. &quot;I don't like that, do you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Let's wait; we may think of something after a while. Where shall we meet?
+That might come next.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Under the trees at the Gilpin place, and when it rains we can go to
+Patricia's Arbor. What fun it would be to have a meeting in the rain!&quot; A
+great pattering on the window-pane emphasized Rosalind's remark.</p>
+
+<p>Maurice wrote busily for a minute, looking up to ask, &quot;What day shall we
+meet?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Let's not say any day, and then we can do as we choose,&quot; Rosalind
+suggested, feeling that <a name="Page_149" id="Page_149"></a>the restrictions of a constitution might be
+burdensome.</p>
+
+<p>Article III then read: &quot;This Society shall hold its meetings at the Gilpin
+place.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Maurice, here are qualifications for membership. Ought we to have that?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I don't know; what are they?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Rosalind bent over the book, &quot;Let me see&mdash;'Intelligence, character, and&mdash;'
+such a funny word. 'R&nbsp;e&nbsp;c&nbsp;i&nbsp;p&nbsp;r&nbsp;o&nbsp;c&nbsp;i&nbsp;t&nbsp;y'; what is that?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Maurice looked over her shoulder, &quot;'Rec&mdash;' Oh, I know, 'reciprocity.'&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What does it mean?&quot; Rosalind asked.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I think it is something political.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then we don't want it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>However, as there was a dictionary in the room, it was thought best to
+consult it.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Here it is, 'mutual giving and returning,'&quot; Maurice announced, when he
+found the place.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Giving and returning,'&quot; Rosalind repeated; &quot;Maurice, look for 'mutual.'&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It means almost the same thing,' something reciprocal, in common,'&quot; he
+said presently.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then it means to do things for each other. I <a name="Page_150" id="Page_150"></a>like that. Why couldn't we
+put that in Article II? It means 'helping.'&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How about qualifications, then?&quot; asked Maurice.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I don't think I'd have any. We'll only ask the people we want.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>So reciprocity was added to Article II. As he wrote, Maurice laughed.
+&quot;I'll bet they won't any of them know what it means,&quot; he said.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then Article IV will be the watchword, 'The Forest,'&quot; added Rosalind.
+&quot;And, Maurice, don't you think it would be nice to choose a leaf for a
+badge? But perhaps we'd better decide that at the next meeting. Don't you
+think it is going to be fun?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Maurice agreed that it was, feeling sure Jack and Belle and Katherine must
+be impressed with the result of their afternoon's work. He had a new
+blank-book ready for the constitution, and on the first page he had
+already written: &quot;The Arden Foresters&mdash;Secret Society,&quot; and at Rosalind's
+suggestion he now added the motto, &quot;Good in everything.&quot;<a name="Page_151" id="Page_151"></a></p>
+
+<p>They surveyed it with pride, and Rosalind said, &quot;I am just crazy to show
+it to somebody. Where is Katherine?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>But Maurice thought it wouldn't be fair to the others to show it to her
+first.</p>
+
+<p>The rain continued to patter against the window. Rosalind sat with her
+elbows on the table, and her chin in her hands, watching Maurice as he
+folded the sheet of legal-cap paper on which the constitution was written,
+and placed it in the book.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Maurice,&quot; she said suddenly, lifting her eyes to the benevolent face of
+the bank president, &quot;do you know Miss Celia Fair?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Miss Celia? Why, of course I do.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Everybody seems to know everybody in Friendship. It's funny,&quot; Rosalind
+commented thoughtfully. &quot;Then you can tell me just what sort of a person
+she is.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;She is tip-top; I like Miss Celia,&quot; Maurice replied, with emphasis.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Do you think she is kind?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, indeed. The day I felt so badly about not going fishing,&mdash;the day
+you spoke to me through the hedge,&mdash;she came in and sat on<a name="Page_152" id="Page_152"></a> the step and
+tried to cheer me up. Oh, yes, Miss Celia is kind.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But do you think she would be kind to some one she didn't know?&quot; Rosalind
+persisted.</p>
+
+<p>Maurice looked at her in surprise, she seemed so much in earnest in these
+inquiries. &quot;How can you be kind to people you don't know?&quot; he asked.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'll tell you about it if you won't tell. You see I am not quite sure.&quot;
+Then Rosalind told the incident of her meeting with Miss Fair in the
+cemetery. &quot;She looked pleasant and as if she wanted to be friends at
+first, but she didn't say anything after I told her my name, and when I
+looked back, I am sure&mdash;almost sure&mdash;saw her throw the rose away.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Miss Celia wouldn't do a thing like that,&quot; Maurice asserted stoutly. &quot;She
+couldn't have any reason for it; she doesn't know you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Do you really think she wouldn't?&quot; Rosalind asked, in a tone of relief.
+&quot;You know there is a kind of a quarrel between her family and ours,&mdash;Belle
+said so,&mdash;and I thought perhaps that had something to do with it; but I am
+going to try to think I was mistaken about the rose.&quot;<a name="Page_153" id="Page_153"></a></p>
+
+
+<p class="figcenter"><a href="./images/3.jpg"><img src="./images/3-tb.jpg" alt="&quot;LOOKING UP HE DISCOVERED HIS VISITORS.&quot;" title="&quot;LOOKING UP HE DISCOVERED HIS VISITORS.&quot;" /></a><a name="LOOKING_UP" id="LOOKING_UP" ></a></p>
+<p class='center'>&quot;LOOKING UP HE DISCOVERED HIS VISITORS.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>While they talked the rain had ceased, and some rays of watery sunshine
+found their way in at the window.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Let's go to the magician's and show him the constitution and ask him to
+join,&quot; Rosalind proposed.</p>
+
+<p>Maurice was willing, and without a thought of the clouds they started
+gayly up the street. They were almost there when Rosalind said, &quot;I believe
+it is going to rain, and we haven't an umbrella.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Perhaps we shall have to stay to supper with Morgan,&quot; Maurice suggested,
+laughing.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I had a very good supper there,&quot; said Rosalind. &quot;I don't see why
+everybody should think it was so very funny in me to go.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No one else would have done it, that's all.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>When they looked in at the door of the magician's shop, he was busy with
+some scraps of leather. Around him were bottomless chairs, topless tables,
+and melancholy sofas with sagging springs exposed to view, and in one
+corner a tall, empty clock-case. With his spectacles on the tip of his
+nose and a pair of large shears in his hand, Morgan might have sat for the
+picture of some wonder-working genius. Looking up, he <a name="Page_154" id="Page_154"></a>discovered his
+visitors, and a smile illumined his rugged face, as he waved them a
+welcome with the big shears. He was never too busy for company.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Come in, come in,&quot; he said; and jumping up he got out a feather duster
+and whisked off a chair for Rosalind, remarking that dust didn't hurt
+boys.</p>
+
+<p>Rosalind laid the book on the table among the scraps of leather, open at
+the page where Maurice had written the name of the society and the motto.
+Pointing to it, they explained that they wished him to join.</p>
+
+<p>Adjusting his spectacles, the magician carefully read the constitution.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The Secret of the Forest? What's that?&quot; he asked.</p>
+
+<p>Rosalind pointed to the motto, whereupon he nodded approvingly, and went
+on. &quot;Search for the ring&mdash;&quot; he looked up questioningly; but when it was
+explained, he shook his head. &quot;Stolen,&quot; he said.</p>
+
+<p>Reciprocity seemed to amuse him greatly. He repeated it several times,
+glancing from one to the other of his visitors.<a name="Page_155" id="Page_155"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;Do you suppose he knows what it means?&quot; Maurice asked Rosalind.</p>
+
+<p>The magician's quick eyes understood the question. &quot;Golden Rule?&quot; he
+asked.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, I did not think of that!&quot; cried Rosalind.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Morgan has a lot of sense,&quot; Maurice replied, with an air of
+proprietorship.</p>
+
+<p>When he had read it all, the magician nodded approvingly. &quot;I'll have to
+join because you have my motto,&quot; he said.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then we have six members to begin with,&quot; Rosalind remarked joyfully.</p>
+
+<p>By this time it had grown dark again and the rain was beginning to fall,
+and while the magician, having a good deal on hand, continued his work,
+Maurice and Rosalind sat on the claw-footed sofa, regardless of dust.
+Curly Q. and Crisscross both sought refuge in the shop, and the latter
+proved himself capable of sociability by jumping up beside Rosalind.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Morgan really does make me think of a magician,&quot; she said, stroking
+Crisscross and looking at the cabinet-maker. &quot;I saw a picture once called
+'The Magician's Doorway.' It was all of <a name="Page_156" id="Page_156"></a>rich, polished marble, and you
+could look down a long dim passage where a blue light burned. Just at the
+entrance a splendid tiger was chained, and above his head hung a silver
+horn.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Was the horn to call the magician?&quot; asked Maurice.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, I suppose so; and you couldn't get it without going very near the
+tiger. Cousin Louis promised to write a story about it, but he never had
+time.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>A flash of lightning, followed immediately by a clap of thunder, startled
+them. Maurice went to the door and looked out. &quot;It is going to be a big
+storm,&quot; he said.</p>
+
+<p>As he spoke the rain began to fall in torrents, hiding Miss Betty's house
+across the street from view. Suddenly a solitary figure with a dripping
+umbrella was almost swept into the shop.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, Miss Celia!&quot; cried Maurice.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I began to think I would be drowned,&quot; she said, laughing breathlessly.</p>
+
+<p>The magician dropped his shears and took her umbrella.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You are wet; we must have a fire,&quot; he said.<a name="Page_157" id="Page_157"></a></p>
+
+<p>Celia protested. A summer shower wouldn't hurt. It was too warm for a
+fire. Rosalind meanwhile sat in the shadow, Crisscross beside her, the
+thought of the rose and of Aunt Genevieve's words making her hope Miss
+Fair would not see her. Her face was gentle; was it possible she could be
+unkind and disdainful?</p>
+
+<p>The magician came to the rescue. He didn't believe in quarrels anyway, and
+if he had considered the matter he probably would have argued that
+Rosalind could have no concern with those she knew nothing about; and
+observing her in the corner he said, with a wave of the dripping umbrella,
+&quot;This is Mr. Pat's little girl, Miss Celia. You remember Mr. Pat?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Celia, shaking out her wet skirts, turned in surprise. As her eyes met
+Rosalind's she smiled. &quot;Yes,&quot; was all she said.</p>
+
+<p>But after a while she came over and patted Crisscross, and said Rosalind
+must be a witch to have gained his affection so soon, and asked what she
+and Maurice were doing there, not as if she wanted an answer so much as
+just to be friendly.</p>
+
+<p>Rosalind felt a great relief, and her eyes were soft as she responded
+shyly.<a name="Page_158" id="Page_158"></a></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_FIFTEENTH" id="CHAPTER_FIFTEENTH" ></a>CHAPTER FIFTEENTH.</h2>
+
+<h3>A NEW MEMBER.</h3>
+
+<p class='center'>&quot;In the circle of this Forest.&quot;</p>
+
+
+<p>In Friendship the summer was never fairly ushered in until Commencements
+were over. When the boys of the Military Institute, a mile beyond the
+village, had yelled their last yell from the back platform of the train as
+it swept around the curve, and Mrs. Graham's boarders had departed,
+accompanied by their trunks and the enthusiastic farewells of the town
+pupils, then, and not before, Friendship settled down to the enjoyment of
+picnics, crabbing parties, and moonlight excursions.</p>
+
+<p>Going away for the summer was almost unknown in Friendship; a week or two
+at the shore or in the mountains was as much as any of its loyal
+inhabitants dreamed of. To the few who like Genevieve Whittredge found the
+<a name="Page_159" id="Page_159"></a>place dull at any season, the warm days afforded a welcome excuse for
+flitting.</p>
+
+<p>After the final decision in the Gilpin will case Friendship drew a long
+breath and acquiesced in the inevitable. Arguments and discussion lost
+their interest, and something like the old peace settled down on the town.</p>
+
+<p>The Gilpin house and its contents must now be sold, but summer was not an
+advantageous season, and the sale had been postponed till early fall in
+the hope of attracting from a distance lovers of old furniture.</p>
+
+<p>Thus the place was left untenanted. Weeds ran riot in the garden, the
+grass crept stealthily over the walks, and the clematis and honeysuckle on
+the low stone wall mingled their sweetness in undisturbed luxuriance. The
+Arden Foresters were free to come and go as they chose, the only other
+trespasser being Celia Fair, who when her household tasks were done often
+brought her sewing to Patricia's Arbor, with the feeling that her days
+there were numbered.</p>
+
+<p>At the Whittredges' Genevieve was making her preparations to leave soon
+after the return of her brother Allan, who was looked for any <a name="Page_160" id="Page_160"></a>day. Her
+mother's restless mind had taken a sudden fitful interest in some
+genealogical question, and welcoming anything that diverted her thoughts
+from herself had thrown all her energies into the subject, spending most
+of her time at her desk or in reading old letters.</p>
+
+<p>Rosalind was left to go her ways; if she appeared at meal-time, no
+questions were asked, Miss Herbert, indeed, shook her head at such
+liberty. A girl of Rosalind's age should be learning something useful,
+instead of running about the village or poring over story books. She could
+not know that with a certain old play for a textbook the children she
+thought so harum-scarum were learning brave lessons this summer.</p>
+
+<p>Rosalind was happy. The hours when she was not with one or all of these
+new friends of hers were few, and these she usually spent in the garden,
+which she was beginning to love, with a book. She had discovered some old
+books of her father's, given to him in his boyhood, with his name and the
+date in them, in itself enough to cast a halo over the most stupid tale.</p>
+
+<p>When the sun shone on the garden seat beside the white birch, there was
+another favorite <a name="Page_161" id="Page_161"></a>spot in the shade of a tall cedar, where an occasional
+stir of wind brought the spray from the fountain against her face.</p>
+
+<p>Yes, in spite of the puzzles, Rosalind was beginning to love Friendship.
+It was weeks since Great-uncle Allan had seemed to frown on her, and even
+the griffins wore a friendlier look; as for the rose, she had come to
+doubt the evidence of her own eyes since that afternoon at the magician's
+when Miss Fair had shown such friendliness.</p>
+
+<p>The summer so dreary in prospect to Maurice bade fair to be endurable
+after all. Rosalind's gray eyes, now merry, now serious, but always
+seeking the good in things, her contagious belief in the Forest, had
+stirred his manliness, making him conscious of his fretfulness, and then
+ashamed. His mother, who had dreaded the long holiday, wondered at his
+content. Katherine wondered a little too. The Forest of Arden made a very
+nice game, and it was pleasant to have Maurice in a good humor, but she
+did not quite understand the connection.</p>
+
+<p>Soon after the close of school Colonel Parton took his two older boys away
+on a western trip, leaving Jack with no resource but Maurice and <a name="Page_162" id="Page_162"></a>the
+girls. The two boys were great chums, and as Maurice's knee made active
+sports impossible, Jack, too, gave them up for the most part.</p>
+
+<p>As for Belle, her indifference to Rosalind had turned into ardent
+admiration. She and Charlotte Ellis had a sharp dispute over the
+new-comer. Charlotte confessed she was disappointed in her, and pronounced
+her odd, all of which Belle deeply resented, the result being a decided
+coolness between them.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I am as glad as I can be Charlotte is going away this summer,&quot; she was
+heard to remark.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;She can't be as glad as I am that we aren't going to be in the same
+town,&quot; was Charlotte's retort when the speech was repeated to her.</p>
+
+<p>The cleverness of Maurice and Rosalind was duly impressed upon the other
+three when the constitution of The Arden Foresters was read, and after
+careful consideration it had been copied in the blank-book, and beneath it
+the members signed their names. The excitement of Commencement week being
+over, a meeting was called to decide on a badge.</p>
+
+<p>It had been decided that any member might call a meeting, and the method
+was suggested <a name="Page_163" id="Page_163"></a>by Belle. In each garden a spot was selected,&mdash;an althea
+bush at the Partons', a corner of the hedge at the Roberts's, a cedar near
+the gate at the Whittredges',&mdash;in which the summons, a tiny roll of paper
+tied with grass, was to be deposited.</p>
+
+<p>On the morning appointed for this meeting of The Arden Foresters, Celia
+Fair, knowing nothing about it, of course, had just settled herself in the
+arbor with a cushion at her back and her work-basket beside her, when
+Rosalind looked in. She carried a book and a bunch of leaves, and she
+seemed surprised to find the summer-house occupied. Her manner was
+hesitating as, after saying good morning, she asked if Miss Fair had seen
+Maurice or Belle.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No; are you expecting them? Won't you come in and sit down while you
+wait?&quot; Celia asked, noticing the hesitation.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I wonder what they have told her about me?&quot; was her thought. It brought a
+flush to her face, and yet why did she care?</p>
+
+<p>Rosalind accepted the invitation shyly. &quot;I must be early,&quot; she said. &quot;I
+was to meet the others here at ten, but I went to drive first with
+grandmamma.&quot;<a name="Page_164" id="Page_164"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is still ten minutes of ten,&quot; Celia said, looking at her watch. &quot;Are
+you going to have a picnic?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No; only a meeting of our society.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What sort of a society?&quot; Celia asked.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;A secret society,&quot; Rosalind replied, with a demure smile.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, is it? That sounds interesting, but I suppose I can't know any more.
+What is your book? That isn't part of the secret, is it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Rosalind slipped off the paper cover and laid the little volume in Celia's
+lap.</p>
+
+<p>The young lady took it up, exclaiming with delight over the binding of
+soft leather, the handmade paper, and beautiful type. It fell open at the
+fly-leaf with the inscription.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And Professor Sargent gave you this Lovely book?&quot; she said.</p>
+
+<p>Rosalind's eyes shone at this tribute. &quot;Cousin Louis gave it to me just
+before he and father started for Japan, and he wrote that about the hard
+things because I wanted so much to go with them and I couldn't,&quot; she
+explained.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Rosalind, what was it you were talking to Maurice about, here behind the
+arbor one day? I <a name="Page_165" id="Page_165"></a>couldn't help hearing a little. It had something to do
+with a forest.&quot; Celia had dropped the book in her lap and looked at
+Rosalind with something that was almost eagerness in her lace.</p>
+
+<p>Rosalind thought a moment, &quot;Why, did you hear us? I know now what it was,&quot;
+and she turned the leaves and pointed to the paragraph beginning, &quot;If we
+will, we may travel always in the Forest,&quot; then she added shyly, &quot;You
+ought to belong to the Forest because of your name.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'So losing by the way the sacred gift of happiness,'&quot; Celia repeated, her
+eyes on the book. &quot;What do you mean by belonging to the Forest?&quot; she
+asked, looking up.</p>
+
+<p>Rosalind seldom needed to be urged to talk on this subject, and she had a
+sympathetic listener as she explained the Forest secret, and told how it
+had helped her in the loneliness of those first days in Friendship.</p>
+
+<p>Celia was lonely and sad. She had held aloof so long in her proud reserve
+that now there seemed nowhere to turn for the sympathy she longed for, and
+Rosalind's little allegory, with its simple message of patience and hope,
+fell upon ground well prepared.<a name="Page_166" id="Page_166"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, Rosalind,&quot; she cried, &quot;show me how to live in the Forest!&quot; and with a
+manner altogether out of keeping with the Celia known to most persons, she
+drew the child to her. &quot;I wish you would love me, dear,&quot; she said.</p>
+
+<p>Rosalind's shyness faded away. She forgot about the rose, and Aunt
+Genevieve's words. Here was a new friend, one who cared about the Forest.
+She responded warmly to Celia's caress, and when a few minutes later the
+other Arden Foresters rushed upon the scene, the two were talking together
+as if they had known each other always.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Miss Celia, are you going to join our society?&quot; asked Belle, the ardent,
+flying to her side and giving her a hug.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Don't stick yourself on my needle! I haven't been invited yet. Rosalind
+tells me it is a secret society, and of course I am dying to know about
+it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Let's tell her,&quot; said Katherine.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Girls always want to tell everything,&quot; remarked Jack, causing Belle to
+frown upon him sternly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The magician has joined,&quot; added Rosalind.<a name="Page_167" id="Page_167"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then I don't see why Miss Celia can't. Do you, Maurice?&quot; asked Belle.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Listen, Belle,&quot; said Celia, laughing, and without waiting for Maurice's
+reply, &quot;there may be some difference of opinion as to whether I should be
+a desirable member or not; suppose you go over there under the oak and
+talk it over. Then if you want me I'll consider the question.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>This seemed a sensible suggestion, and the Foresters retired to the shade
+of the scarlet oak to discuss the matter. Jack had meant nothing but a
+fling at the feminine fondness for telling things, and was astonished that
+his remark could be supposed to reflect upon Miss Celia; and as no one
+else found any objection to the new member, they returned presently to
+inform her that she was by unanimous consent invited to become an honorary
+member of their society.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;As honorary members aren't expected to do much, I'll consider it. Now
+please tell me about it. What is its name and object?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Maurice produced the book and read, &quot;'The name of this Society shall be
+The Arden Foresters.'&quot;<a name="Page_168" id="Page_168"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;That sounds like Robin Hood, don't you think?&quot; Belle put in.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'The object,'&quot; Maurice continued, &quot;'shall be to remember the Secret of
+the Forest, to bear hard things bravely, to search for the ring, and
+reciprocity.'&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What ring?&quot; Celia asked, smiling at the queer ending to this article.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Don't you know? Patricia's ring. The one that is lost,&quot; Rosalind
+explained, sorting her leaves.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I fear it is a hopeless quest.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Maurice,&quot; Rosalind exclaimed, &quot;that is the word we wanted,&mdash;the 'quest'
+of the ring. Let's put it in.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What does it mean?&quot; asked Katherine.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;A search,&quot; Celia answered.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then why won't 'search' do?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But 'quest' sounds more like the Forest,&quot; Rosalind urged.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;More romantic,&quot; added Belle, adjusting her comb and tying her ribbon.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;One word is as good as another if it means what you want to say,&quot;
+insisted Jack. &quot;They think they are so smart with their 'reciprocity,' and
+they got it out of a book.&quot;<a name="Page_169" id="Page_169"></a></p>
+
+<p>Rosalind glanced at him reproachfully. &quot;We looked in the dictionary for
+the meaning,&quot; she said.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I see no objection to getting it out of a book. Most constitutions are
+patterned after others, and reciprocity is a good word. Is there any
+more?&quot; Miss Celia spread her work on her knee and turned to Maurice.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Just the watchword 'The Forest.'&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I like your society very much and want to join if, as you suggested, I
+can be an honorary member. I can try to bear hard things bravely, and
+remember the Forest secret, although I haven't any time to give to the
+quest of the ring.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then let her write her name under the magician's,&quot; said Rosalind,
+clapping her hands. &quot;Now we have seven members.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Maurice had his fountain-pen in his pocket, just as if he had expected a
+new member this morning, and Celia signed her name in the book beneath
+&quot;C.J. Morgan, Magician.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He wrote that for fun, because Rosalind calls him 'the magician,'&quot; Belle
+explained.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I haven't heard that old title for many a <a name="Page_170" id="Page_170"></a>year,&quot; Celia remarked, as she
+waited for her signature to dry.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now we have to choose a badge,&quot; said Belle.</p>
+
+<p>Rosalind spread out her collection of leaves. &quot;We thought a leaf would be
+appropriate,&quot; she added. There were beech, and maple, and poplar, and oak
+in several varieties.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I think I should choose this,&quot; and Celia pointed to a leaf from the
+scarlet oak. &quot;Not only because it is beautiful in shape, but because the
+oak tree stands for courage. A 'heart of oak' has become a proverb, you
+know.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Rosalind's eyes grew bright. &quot;I didn't think of its having a meaning. I
+like that.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And in the fall we'll have scarlet badges instead of green ones,&quot; said
+Jack.</p>
+
+<p>There could be no better choice than this, they all agreed; and Jack
+gathered a handful, that they might put on their badges at once.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;On our way home we must stop and tell the magician about it,&quot; Rosalind
+said, as she pinned a leaf on Celia's dress.<a name="Page_171" id="Page_171"></a></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_SIXTEENTH" id="CHAPTER_SIXTEENTH" ></a>CHAPTER SIXTEENTH.</h2>
+
+<h3>RECIPROCITY.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Take upon comand what we have">
+<tr><td align='left'>&quot;Take upon command what we have,</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: .5em;">That to your wanting may be ministered.&quot;</span></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+
+<p>&quot;Celia Fair, do you realize what you have done?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>It was Celia who asked herself the question. She was suffering, as
+reserved people must, from the reaction that follows an unusual outburst
+of feeling. That had been a happy morning in the arbor; she had let
+herself go, had listened to her heart and forgotten her pride, and in the
+company of the merry Arden Foresters, the old joy of youth had asserted
+itself. The brightness had stayed with her for days; she had dreamed she
+could make a fairy tale of life, spending her hours in an enchanted
+forest, and now had come the awakening.</p>
+
+<p>It seemed destined from the beginning to be a day of misfortunes. She woke
+with a dull, listless <a name="Page_172" id="Page_172"></a>feeling, and the first thing to greet her eyes when
+she went downstairs was the woolly head of Bob, the grandson of her sole
+dependence, Aunt Sally, waiting on the doorstep to impart the cheering
+information that granny had the &quot;misery&quot; in her side mighty bad, and
+couldn't come to-day.</p>
+
+<p>At another time it might not have mattered so much, for the boys were away
+from home, and breakfast for two did not offer any insuperable
+difficulties to Celia, but there were currants and raspberries waiting to
+be made into jelly and preserves. To complicate matters, Mrs. Fair had one
+of her severe headaches.</p>
+
+<p>The fruit would not keep another day, and Celia couldn't leave the house
+to go down the hill in search of help, even if she had known just where to
+seek it. After making her mother as comfortable as possible, she began on
+the currants with sombre energy.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;May I come in, Miss Celia? Will you lend me a cup?&quot; It was Jack who stood
+in the door.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Help yourself,&quot; she replied, &quot;I am too busy to stop.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We want to get some water from the <a name="Page_173" id="Page_173"></a>spring,&quot; he explained. &quot;Aren't you
+coming over to-day?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Celia shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>Jack surveyed the piles of fruit. &quot;Jiminy! have you all this to do?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes; Aunt Sally is sick this morning, and it can't wait.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Jack disappeared, leaving Celia to her gloomy thoughts, but ten minutes
+had not passed before he was back again, accompanied by the other Arden
+Foresters.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We have come to help,&quot; they announced.</p>
+
+<p>For a moment Celia was annoyed. She had made up her mind to be a martyr
+and did not care to be disturbed.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Indeed, you can't,&quot; she said. &quot;I am very much obliged, but you would
+stain yourselves, and&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Give us some aprons,&quot; interrupted Belle. &quot;Mother lets us help her.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Maurice added, &quot;It is reciprocity, Miss Celia.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Celia's ill temper wavered and went down before the row of bright faces.
+&quot;Well, perhaps you may help if you really want to, but it is tiresome
+work.&quot;<a name="Page_174" id="Page_174"></a></p>
+
+<p>They did not seem to find it so, as they sat around the table on the
+porch, carefully done up in checked aprons, three of them at work on the
+raspberries, and two helping Celia with the currants.</p>
+
+<p>Each wore a fresh oak leaf, and nothing would do but Rosalind must run
+back to get one for Miss Celia; and there must have been magic in it, so
+suddenly did Celia's courage revive.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I feel better,&quot; she said, stopping to turn the leaves of the cook-book.
+&quot;Let me see,&mdash;'boil several hours till the juice is well out of the
+fruit,'&mdash;Sally always lets it drip over night into the big stone jar. I
+shall have these currants out of the way by dinner-time. You are really a
+great help. I wish there was something I could do for you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Tell us a story, Miss Celia,&quot; Belle suggested promptly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I don't know any.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Something about when you were a little girl,&quot; said Katherine.</p>
+
+<p>Celia hesitated. &quot;The only story I know is about a magician and a tiger,
+Rosalind's calling Morgan 'the magician' reminded me of it.&quot;<a name="Page_175" id="Page_175"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;I love magicians and tigers,&quot; Rosalind remarked. &quot;Do you remember the
+picture I told you about, Maurice? Do tell it to us, Miss Celia.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Celia wondered afterward how she could have done it, but now she thought
+of nothing but her desire to please the children, so she began:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Once there was a little girl who loved fairy tales and believed with all
+her heart in fairies, magicians, and ogres. In the town where she had
+recently come to live she had a playmate, a boy, who laughed at her for
+thinking there were such creatures in the world, and the two often argued
+the matter.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;One day this little girl was sitting on the fence looking up at the sky
+and wishing something would happen, when she heard the boy calling her.
+She answered, and he came running across the grass and climbed up beside
+her, and with an air of great mystery told her he knew a secret. Of course
+the little girl was anxious to hear it, and of course the boy tried to
+tease her by refusing to tell. But by and by he could keep it no longer,
+and in tones of awe he whispered that he knew a magician who lived in
+their very town.<a name="Page_176" id="Page_176"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;The little girl clapped her hands; for if her playmate believed in
+magicians, he must surely come to believe in fairies too.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The boy went on to explain that this magician appeared exactly like other
+men, so that few guessed his mysterious power. He lived in a house quite
+like other houses except that its door was painted black; but behind this
+door lay a tiger, always ready to spring upon any one who tried to enter.
+On this great tiger in some way depended the magician's power.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There had been a fire in the village recently, which, the boy said, had
+been caused by the magician, as well as certain other calamities, such as
+scarlet-fever and measles, and the time had come when this must be
+stopped. The boy claimed to have discovered&mdash;he did not say how&mdash;that the
+magician's tiger had three white whiskers, all the rest being black, and
+in these white whiskers resided all his power. If in any way they could be
+removed, he and his master would be harmless forevermore.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But how was this to be done? the little girl wanted to know, feeling
+deeply impressed meanwhile by the tragedy of the situation.<a name="Page_177" id="Page_177"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;The only way, the boy replied, was to catch the tiger while he slept, and
+then&mdash;a snip of the scissors, and he could do no more harm. The little
+girl had some round-pointed scissors hanging from a ribbon around her
+neck, for she was fond of cutting things; she took them in her hand now
+and looked at them with a shiver as the boy added in a tragic whisper,
+'<i>We</i> must do it!'</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Although she was very much afraid, she never thought of objecting. It was
+her duty, and she had great confidence in her companion. He could do many
+things she couldn't do, and he was ten and she only six; so when he
+examined the scissors and said they would answer, without a word of
+objection she slipped down from the fence and trotted beside him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It seemed quite natural that the way should be over fences and through
+back yards instead of along the street. They climbed rails and squeezed
+through hedges until the little girl was breathless and had not the least
+idea where she was, when she found herself in a narrow garden-path, on
+either side of which grew hollyhocks and sunflowers.<a name="Page_178" id="Page_178"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;'There is the door,' the boy whispered; and&mdash;yes&mdash;at the end of the path
+she saw the black door.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'This is the hour when he sleeps,' the boy said, in thrilling tones,
+looking at an imaginary watch. 'We have timed it well. I will open the
+door softly, and you have your scissors ready; I will hold him while you
+cut off the whiskers.' The little girl's heart almost stopped beating, but
+she had no thought of running away.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;They reached the door; the boy had his hand on the knob. He was opening
+it very gently&mdash;when something happened! He stumbled, or his hand slipped.
+It flew open and there before them stood the magician, brandishing a
+glittering sword, and beside him were the gleaming eyes of a tiger.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;With a cry of terror the little girl fell all in a heap, grasping her
+scissors, shutting her eyes tight till all should be over. Then some one
+picked her up and asked if she was hurt, and slowly gaining courage she
+opened her eyes and looked into the kind face of Morgan, the
+cabinet-maker. At his side was Tiger, the great striped cat, and on the
+work-bench lay his shining saw. The boy stood by, laughing.&quot;<a name="Page_179" id="Page_179"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;I thought he must be fooling her,&quot; remarked Katherine, in a tone of
+relief.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You don't mean it!&quot; said Maurice, with fine sarcasm.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But finish, Miss Celia,&quot; begged Rosalind. &quot;What did the little girl
+think?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I believe for a long time she was greatly puzzled. There seemed to have
+been magic somewhere. She examined Tiger's whiskers and found them all
+black, and this made her think it possible that some one else had cut out
+the white ones, and thus turned him into a harmless cat. She felt a little
+uneasy at times, for fear the cabinet-maker would turn again into the
+wicked magician, but it never happened.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And did she go on believing in fairies?&quot; Rosalind asked.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, yes, for a while. I am not sure she doesn't yet.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Cousin Louis says that is one of the advantages of the 'Forest of Arden,'
+you can believe in all those delightful things.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Were there fairies there?&quot; asked Belle. &quot;I don't remember any.&quot;<a name="Page_180" id="Page_180"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;There would have been if occasion had called for them,&quot; Celia answered.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But you don't want to believe things if they aren't true, do you?&quot;
+Katherine looked puzzled. &quot;I wish there were fairies now, but I know there
+aren't.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You can't prove there aren't,&quot; asserted Jack, mischievously.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, Jack, you know there aren't any fairies really.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I said you couldn't prove it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How can you say they do not exist unless you have seen one not existing?
+Isn't that the argument in 'Water Babies'?&quot; laughed Celia, as she carried
+the currants into the kitchen. &quot;It is the difference between fact and
+fancy, Katherine,&quot; she said, coming back.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I love to pretend things,&quot; said Rosalind.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;So do I,&quot; echoed Belle.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Fancy does more than that, it really makes things beautiful. For
+instance, it makes the difference between a plain, straight letter such as
+you see in the newspaper and such a letter as I was embroidering
+yesterday. Some one's fancy saw the plain S ornamented with curving <a name="Page_181" id="Page_181"></a>lines
+and sprays of flowers, and so it came to be made so.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That makes me think of those beautiful books the monks used to make,&quot;
+said Maurice.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The illuminated manuscripts, you mean? That word expresses what fancy
+does for us,&mdash;it illuminates the plain facts, and fills them with beauty.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, Miss Celia, that is a lovely idea,&quot; cried Rosalind. &quot;I must remember
+it to tell Cousin Louis.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I fear be wouldn't find it very new,&quot; Celia answered, smiling.</p>
+
+<p>By noon the fruit was all picked over, and as Celia stood at the gate
+watching her helpers out of sight, old Sally came laboring up the walk.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Law, honey, look like I couldn't rest from studyin' how you was gwine to
+git them berries done, an' I 'lowed, misery or no misery, I was comin' to
+help you,&quot; she announced.<a name="Page_182" id="Page_182"></a></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_SEVENTEENTH" id="CHAPTER_SEVENTEENTH" ></a>CHAPTER SEVENTEENTH.</h2>
+
+<h3>A NEW COMRADE.</h3>
+
+<p class='center'>&quot;I know you are a gentleman of good conceit.&quot;</p>
+
+
+<p>Rosalind and Maurice sat on the garden bench discussing &quot;The Young
+Marooners,&quot; one of the story books found in the garret.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I shouldn't like to be carried off by a big fish as they were, but I do
+think some sort of an adventure would be interesting. Don't you?&quot; asked
+Rosalind.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We'll have to do something,&quot; Maurice agreed, &quot;Don't you wish we could get
+inside the Gilpin house? Mr. Wells, the teller in our bank, sleeps there.
+I wish he would drop the key.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Grandmamma says it will be open for people to go through before the sale,
+but then it will be too late to look for the ring. Belle is so good at
+thinking of things, I wish she would find a way for us to get in,&quot;
+Rosalind added.</p>
+
+<p>A bell was heard ringing on the other side <a name="Page_183" id="Page_183"></a>of the hedge, and Maurice
+rose. &quot;Dinner is ready,&quot; he said.</p>
+
+<p>Rosalind walked to the gate with him. &quot;Uncle Allan is coming to-morrow,&quot;
+she remarked, &quot;and I just wonder what he is like.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Turning toward the house again, she became aware of a stranger standing
+beside the griffins. He was not waiting to get in, for the door was open
+behind him, and furthermore he had the air of being at home. Something in
+his height and the breadth of his shoulders suggested her father, and as
+she drew nearer a certain resemblance to Aunt Genevieve developed.</p>
+
+<p>He watched her approach with a look of puzzled interest. &quot;Surely, this
+isn't Rosalind,&quot; he said.</p>
+
+<p>Rosalind paused on the bottom step. &quot;Why, yes, it is. Are you Uncle
+Allan?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;A great tall girl like you my niece? Pat's daughter? Impossible!&quot; There
+was a twinkle in his eye. Clearly, Uncle Allan was a tease.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I suppose I shall have to be identified,&quot; said Rosalind, merrily.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I begin to see a look of Pat about you.&quot; He came down the steps now and
+took her hand. &quot;Let's sit here and get acquainted,&quot; he said, leading <a name="Page_184" id="Page_184"></a>the
+way to the bench under the birch tree.</p>
+
+<p>Two pairs of eyes, the brown and the gray, looked into each other steadily
+and soberly for a few seconds, then a dimple began to make itself visible
+in Rosalind's check, whereat the brown eyes twinkled again. &quot;Well, what do
+you think of me?&quot; they asked.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You aren't much like Great-uncle Allan,&quot; said Rosalind, laughing.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Heavens! was that your idea of me? And I expected you to be a child of
+tender age, although I should have known better. It is nearly fourteen
+years since Pat went away.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Uncle Allan, did you know my mother?&quot; It was the first time Rosalind had
+mentioned her mother since she had been in Friendship. She could not have
+explained her silence any more than she could this sudden question.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I did not know her, Rosalind. I wish I might have. I saw her once, and I
+have never forgotten her face.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I can remember her just a little, but father and Cousin Louis have told
+me about her, and I have her picture.&quot;<a name="Page_185" id="Page_185"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;I think,&quot; said Uncle Allan, confidently, &quot;that we are going to be
+friends. Tell me how you like Friendship.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I like it now. I was dreadfully lonely at first, till things began to
+happen. Then there was Cousin Betty's tea party, where I met Belle and
+Jack and the rest, and now&mdash;oh, I like it very much! It is a funny place.
+Aunt Genevieve says you don't like it any better than she does.&quot;
+Rosalind's tone was questioning.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I believe it does seem rather a stupid old town,&quot; he acknowledged. &quot;What
+do you find interesting about it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There is the magician and his shop; and the out of doors is so
+beautiful&mdash;almost like the country; and the houses are different from
+those in the city; and there is the will, and the lost ring.&quot; Rosalind
+suddenly remembered her uncle's connection with the ring.</p>
+
+<p>He did not seem to understand, for he asked, &quot;What ring?&quot; then added, &quot;Oh,
+you mean the Gilpin will. Who has told you about that?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Cousin Betty; and she told us the story of Patricia's ring, Uncle Allan,
+don't you wish we could find it?&quot;<a name="Page_186" id="Page_186"></a></p>
+
+<p>Allan Whittredge smiled at the eager face. &quot;I can't say I care much about
+it,&quot; he replied; then seeing her disappointment, he added, &quot;It was a
+handsome old ring. Should you like to have it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'd like to see it; but of course it wasn't meant for me. Cousin Betty
+said&mdash;&quot; Rosalind paused, for the expression on her uncle's face was more
+than ever like Aunt Genevieve, and he exclaimed impatiently, &quot;Stuff!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>She felt rather hurt. She had expected him to be as interested in the ring
+as she was. What did he mean by &quot;stuff&quot;? And why didn't he like
+Friendship? Rosalind fell to pondering all this, sitting in the corner of
+the bench, looking down at her hands, crossed in her lap.</p>
+
+<p>After some minutes' silence she felt her chin lifted until her eyes met
+the gaze of the merriest brown ones, from which all trace of disdain or
+impatience was gone.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What are you thinking about so soberly? Are you disappointed in me, after
+all?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Rosalind laughed. &quot;I am just sorry you don't like Friendship.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Perhaps it is because I have been away so long. I used to like it when I
+was a boy.&quot;<a name="Page_187" id="Page_187"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;Can't you turn into a boy again?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Perhaps I might, if you will show me how.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Rosalind clapped her hands. &quot;I don't think I am a bit disappointed in you,
+and I am almost sure you will like the Forest.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What forest?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'll show you the book and tell you about it sometime; and then maybe you
+will join our society.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;This sounds interesting; I believe I shall like Friendship.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Rosalind surveyed him thoughtfully. &quot;I think I'll begin by taking you to
+see the magician,&quot; she said.</p>
+
+<p>By what witchery did she divine that the shortest path to his boyhood was
+by way of the magician's?</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The magician? Oh, that is Morgan, I suppose.&quot; Allan's eyes rested
+absently on the drooping hydrangea a few feet away.</p>
+
+<p>Presently a soft hand stole beneath his chin, and Rosalind demanded
+merrily, as she tried to turn his face to hers, &quot;What are you thinking
+about? Are you disappointed in me?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not terribly,&quot; her uncle replied, and seizing <a name="Page_188" id="Page_188"></a>the hand he drew her to
+him and gave her the kiss of friendship and good-fellowship.</p>
+
+<p>Rosalind was fastidious about kisses. She reserved them for those she
+loved, and received them shrinkingly from those she did not care for; but
+in this short interview she had found a friend, and she returned the
+caress with an ardor of affection pretty to see.</p>
+
+<p>Martin, announcing lunch, interrupted their talk, and, hand in hand,
+Rosalind and her new comrade walked to the house. In the exuberance of her
+content, she patted one of the griffins as she passed. Her uncle observed
+it.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Have you ever noticed the resemblance between Uncle Allan Barnwell and
+the griffins?&quot; he asked.</p>
+
+<p>The idea amused Rosalind greatly, and as she took her seat at the table,
+the sight of the haughtily poised head and eagle eyes of the portrait made
+her laugh. Things were indeed taking a turn when that stern face caused
+amusement.</p>
+
+<p>With Uncle Allan at the foot of the table, luncheon was transformed into a
+festive occasion. Masculine tones were almost startling <a name="Page_189" id="Page_189"></a>from their
+novelty; Rosalind found herself forgetting to eat. Grandmamma was
+wonderfully bright, and Aunt Genevieve showed a languid animation most
+unusual.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It was like you, Allan, after putting us off so long, to end by
+surprising us,&quot; his sister said.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I trust you intend to stay for a while,&quot; his mother added, almost
+wistfully.</p>
+
+<p>Genevieve laughed half scornfully, as if she considered this a forlorn
+hope.</p>
+
+<p>Allan looked at her a moment before he replied, &quot;I don't know; I shall
+probably be here some time.&quot; He had more than half promised his friend
+Blanchard to join him in a trip over the Canadian Pacific in August. At
+present he felt inclined to give it up and remain in Friendship. He would
+not commit himself.</p>
+
+<p>He thought it over lazily after lunch, resting in the sleepy-hollow chair
+by the east window in the room that had been his ever since he graduated
+from the nursery. All about him were devices for comfort and adornment
+that spoke of his mother's hand. She knew the sort of thing he liked,&mdash;his
+handsome, unhappy mother. It was a shame to leave her so much alone; yet
+<a name="Page_190" id="Page_190"></a>she never complained, but seemed always self-sufficient and independent.</p>
+
+<p>And then Allan began to reflect on the singular fact that he was seldom
+quite at ease with his mother, although he admired her, and at one time
+had been very much under her influence. If he had ceased to care for his
+home, it was her fault for sending him away for so long. &quot;Poor mother!&quot; he
+thought. &quot;We have all disappointed her; but she was never quite fair to
+any of us. She wanted us to go her way, and, being her children, we
+preferred our own.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The sound of Rosalind's voice floated in at the window. He looked out. She
+was crossing the lawn, after an interview with Katherine through the
+hedge.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;When are we to begin?&quot; he called.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Whenever you like,&quot; she answered.</p>
+
+<p>He went down and joined her in the garden, thinking what a difference she
+made in the place. He had not supposed a girl of twelve could be so
+charming; but then, she was his brother's daughter, with something of her
+father about her, and he had felt a little boy's admiration for this older
+brother.<a name="Page_191" id="Page_191"></a></p>
+
+<p>Rosalind told him it was almost like having father or Cousin Louis to talk
+to; and as they wandered about the garden Allan found himself feeling
+flattered at her evident pleasure in his society.</p>
+
+<p>She brought out her treasured book to show him, and explained about the
+Forest; and Allan listened absently, noting the soft curve of her cheek
+and the length of the dark lashes, his memory going back to that one
+occasion when he had seen the gentle and lovely girl who was afterward his
+brother's wife.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And now we must go to the magician's,&quot; said Rosalind.</p>
+
+<p>Not many of the inhabitants of Friendship were abroad in the middle of a
+summer afternoon, and they had the street almost to themselves when they
+set out. The quiet, the bowed shutters, the deserted porches, suggested a
+universal nap. Allan looked up at the tall maples, whose branches met
+across the road just as they had done in his childhood. Truly, there was a
+charm about the old town, with its homelike dwellings and generous
+gardens, he acknowledged to himself. &quot;I believe we are the only people
+awake,&quot; he remarked.<a name="Page_192" id="Page_192"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;The magician will be awake,&quot; Rosalind replied; and so he was, rubbing
+down the clock case to-day, but by no means too much occupied for company,
+and he welcomed his visitors cordially, saying Allan was one of his boys.</p>
+
+<p>Rosalind was amazed at the ease and rapidity with which her uncle talked
+with the cabinet-maker.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Have you come home to stay this time, Mr. Allan?&quot; Morgan asked.</p>
+
+<p>Allan laughed, and said he did not know about that.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Two&mdash;four&mdash;eight years&mdash;&quot; the magician told them off on his fingers,
+shaking his head. &quot;Too long. Take root somewhere, Mr. Allan; too much
+travel spoils you. Your father loved Friendship.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes,&quot; said Allan, gravely.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You make him join the society,&quot; Morgan said, turning to Rosalind.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He means our secret society,&quot; she explained. &quot;He belongs, and he has our
+motto on the wall,&quot; and she drew her uncle to the door of the back room
+and pointed it out.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, I remember Morgan's motto, 'Good in everything.' Does one have to
+subscribe to that in order to join this society?&quot;<a name="Page_193" id="Page_193"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;That is one thing.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;If there are many such requirements, I fear I shall prove not eligible.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Does that mean you can't join?&quot; Rosalind asked, looking disappointed.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, I'll consider it. I'll try to be broad-minded and practise
+believing impossible things, like Alice.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;'Six impossible things before breakfast,'&quot; quoted Rosalind. &quot;I am so glad
+you know Alice; but it was the White Queen, wasn't it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I shouldn't wonder if it was,&quot; Allan answered, laughing.</p>
+
+<p>They went out to the little garden to see the sweet peas and nasturtiums,
+and the magician insisted upon gathering some. While they waited Rosalind
+told her uncle about the time she took tea with him.</p>
+
+<p>When at last they left the shop, Miss Betty was standing in her door, and
+they crossed over to speak to her.</p>
+
+<p class="figcenter"><a href="./images/4.jpg"><img src="./images/4-tb.jpg" alt="&quot;THEY CROSSED OVER TO SPEAK TO HER.&quot;" title="&quot;THEY CROSSED OVER TO SPEAK TO HER.&quot;" /></a><a name="THEY_CROSSED_OVER_TO_SPEAK" id="THEY_CROSSED_OVER_TO_SPEAK" ></a></p>
+
+<p class='center'>&quot;THEY CROSSED OVER TO SPEAK TO HER.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, Allan, I am glad to see you at last,&quot; she said, coming down the
+walk to meet them.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You do not appear to have pined away in my absence,&quot; he replied, shaking
+hands.<a name="Page_194" id="Page_194"></a></p>
+
+<p>Miss Betty shrugged her shoulders. &quot;I was never much on pining, but my
+curiosity has been sadly strained.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What about?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You know very well. That ring.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now, if that isn't like Friendship,&quot; said Allan, laughing, as he followed
+her to the porch and made himself comfortable in one of the big rocking
+chairs. Rosalind sat on the step arranging her flowers and listening.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I would have you know I have something else to think about besides
+foolish and unreasonable wills and lost jewels,&quot; Allan continued. &quot;I
+regret I cannot relieve the strain, but so far as I know, the ring has not
+been heard of and is not likely to be.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But if it should be found?&quot; said Miss Betty. &quot;Stranger things have
+happened.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes,&quot; said Allan.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then the question is, do you know what you are going to do with it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That is a question with which I shall not trouble myself until it is
+found. I am a lazy person, as you know, Cousin Betty.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I know nothing of the sort, Allan. Now, there <a name="Page_195" id="Page_195"></a>is one thing you might
+tell me. Do you know what Cousin Thomas meant, or was it one of his jokes?
+Yes or no.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No,&quot; answered Allan, promptly.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Betty looked puzzled; then she laughed. &quot;It is like playing tit, tat,
+toe, to talk to you,&quot; she exclaimed. &quot;I might have known you'd get ahead
+of me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have answered your question as you desired; now let's change the
+subject,&quot; he suggested gravely.</p>
+
+<p>Rosalind gave a gentle little chuckle. Miss Betty looked at her. &quot;What do
+you think of your uncle, Rosalind?&quot; she asked.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You certainly have the gift for asking pointed questions,&quot; Allan
+remarked, before Rosalind could speak. &quot;I can tell you what she expected.
+She had an idea that I resembled Uncle Allan Barnwell.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Gracious! You must be relieved. I could have told you better than that.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I didn't really think it; I only wondered,&quot; said Rosalind.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Betty laughed in a reminiscent sort of way. &quot;Do you remember him,
+Allan? But no, I <a name="Page_196" id="Page_196"></a>fancy you were too little. He used to visit at our house
+when I was a child, and I was never so afraid of any one. I suppose you
+have heard the story of his wedding?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have a dim recollection of the story. Tell it to Rosalind.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well,&quot; she began, &quot;Uncle Allan was a minister, you know. A Presbyterian
+of the sternest stuff, rich in eloquence and power of argument, but poor
+in this world's goods. However, he judiciously fell in love with Matilda
+Greene, the only daughter of a wealthy Baltimore merchant. As was natural,
+Matilda chose for her wedding-gown a gorgeous robe of white satin, and all
+the preparations for the event were on a lavish scale. When the day came
+and the guests had assembled, and the bride in her beautiful gown and lace
+veil appeared before the eyes of the bridegroom, Uncle Allan created a
+sensation by sternly declaring that such a dress was inappropriate for the
+bride of a humble minister of the Gospel.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And the meek Matilda, instead of telling him he could marry her as she
+was or not at all, took off her satin, put on a simple muslin, and <a name="Page_197" id="Page_197"></a>the
+ceremony was performed. Uncle Allan always referred to his wife as 'My
+Matilda'; and if the truth were known, I fancy she couldn't call her soul
+her own.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I remember the story,&quot; said Allan, laughing. &quot;We come of a stubborn
+family. What would have happened if Matilda had asserted herself?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He had her at a disadvantage,&mdash;the guests waiting,&mdash;but she missed the
+chance of a lifetime,&quot; said Miss Betty.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Was Matilda fond of him?&quot; asked Rosalind.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Let us hope so; at any rate she always spoke of him as 'My Allan.'&quot;<a name="Page_198" id="Page_198"></a></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_EIGHTEENTH" id="CHAPTER_EIGHTEENTH" ></a>CHAPTER EIGHTEENTH.</h2>
+
+<h3>AN IMPRISONED MAIDEN.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="The house doth keep">
+<tr><td align='left'>&quot;The house doth keep itself,</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: .5em;">There's none within.&quot;</span></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+
+<p>It was plain to Rosalind that for some reason her uncle did not wish to
+discuss the ring; nor did he seem to care whether or not it was found. It
+was also plain that he did not agree with his mother and sister on the
+question of the will.</p>
+
+<p>On one occasion when Genevieve made some scornful reference to the
+probable motives of those who upheld the later one, Allan exclaimed in a
+tone of irritation, &quot;It is beyond my comprehension how you can have so
+much feeling in the matter. I have seen no reason to suppose the old man
+incapable of making a will. The testimony seemed to point the other way;
+and as nobody except the hospital had anything to gain by this last win,
+it strikes me as worse than absurd <a name="Page_199" id="Page_199"></a>to impute motives of jealousy to
+people who were only giving their honest opinion.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It must be because we are not blest with your truly amiable disposition,&quot;
+Genevieve observed languidly.</p>
+
+<p>A smile flitted across Rosalind's face; her uncle had spoken with a good
+deal of heat. Allan himself laughed. His fits of irritation usually ended
+in this way.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, it is all over now, and we may as well make the best of it. You
+shall have Patricia's miniature if I can get it for you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Thank you,&quot; said Genevieve, really gratified. &quot;I fear you do not know
+what you are promising.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Rosalind wondered how her uncle felt in regard to the Fairs, and she once
+or twice mentioned Celia, watching him furtively meanwhile. There was,
+however, no shadow of a change in his expression, and he made no comment.</p>
+
+<p>A vast difference was made in the house by Allan's return. He stood in no
+awe of Miss Herbert, had no qualms about disturbing the drawing-room
+blinds or leaving the front door open from morning till night,&mdash;a
+Friendship custom <a name="Page_200" id="Page_200"></a>which did not recommend itself to the housekeeper. A
+high cart and a swift-footed mare made their appearance, and Rosalind was
+often her uncle's companion on his visits to the farms belonging to the
+estate.</p>
+
+<p>Allan was continually expecting his interest in Friendship to languish,
+but it did not, and after a few weeks he gave up all thought of the
+western trip.</p>
+
+<p>The middle of July saw Genevieve on her way to the North, and a little
+later Miss Herbert went home on a holiday. After their departure peace
+settled down upon the house behind the griffins.</p>
+
+<p>The Arden Foresters found the summer days none too long. They still met
+Celia in the arbor now and then; and it was her stories of the Gilpin
+house, of the ring and the spinet, together with the constant sight of the
+closed shutters and doors, that led to an adventure one warm August day.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Important meeting at the oak tree this afternoon,&mdash;a discovery!&quot; was the
+startling announcement Rosalind found within the grass-tied missive on the
+cedar when she returned from a drive with her uncle one morning. She could
+hardly <a name="Page_201" id="Page_201"></a>eat her luncheon for eagerness to know what the discovery might
+be, and the sound of Maurice's low whistle further upset her.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Whittredge was rigid where table manners were concerned. Rosalind
+might not be excused until every one had finished; and to-day Uncle Allan
+dallied over his dessert, discussing business and the new mills with his
+mother, while Rosalind's impatience grew.</p>
+
+<p>She looked up despairingly at the stern countenance of Great-uncle Allan,
+and then at the placid smile of his Matilda, which seemed a rebuke to her
+restlessness. &quot;I wonder what you did with your satin dress?&quot; she suddenly
+remarked aloud.</p>
+
+<p>Grandmamma turned toward her in surprise, and Allan, deep in a description
+of the manufacture of a new kind of paper, looked at her blankly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Do you think it is polite to interrupt?&quot; asked Mrs. Whittredge.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I beg your pardon, Uncle Allan, I was just thinking. I did not mean to
+say it out loud,&quot; Rosalind explained, in great contrition.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Evidently you were not interested in my <a name="Page_202" id="Page_202"></a>learned discourse,&quot; he said,
+with a terrible frown, which was not at all alarming.</p>
+
+<p>The diversion, however, caused him to remember his pudding, and in a few
+minutes Rosalind was free to join Maurice and Katherine at the gate.</p>
+
+<p>Belle, who had called the meeting, was waiting for them at the top of the
+hill.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I thought you were never coming,&quot; she cried; &quot;we have made such a
+discovery!&quot; And as they walked toward the house she explained that her
+mother had sent her that morning with a message to Miss Celia, and not
+finding her at home, she and Jack, who was with her, went over to the
+Gilpin place to wait. As they wandered about the grounds, something put it
+into Jack's head to try one of the cobwebby cellar windows, and lo! it
+opened. Poking their heads in, they saw it was over a stairway, which
+could be easily reached by walking a few feet on a ledge of stone.
+Delighted with the discovery, they scrambled in, and making their way up
+the steps found the door at the top unbolted.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Jack opened it and peeped into the hall, and then we were as scared as
+anything, and <a name="Page_203" id="Page_203"></a>ran, and oh! we had such a time getting out. Now, what do
+you think of it? We can look for the ring really!&quot; Belle paused, out of
+breath.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What fun!&quot; cried Rosalind.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Just what we have been wishing for,&quot; added Maurice. &quot;I have been trying
+to think how we could get in.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Katherine was the only one who was not enthusiastic over the adventure.
+She hung back a little and wanted to know what Belle had been afraid of.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, I don't know. It was so dark, and mysterious, and creepy; but it was
+such fun!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We shan't mind if we are all together,&quot; said Rosalind, reassuringly.
+&quot;We'll pretend we are storming a castle to rescue somebody.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>If it occurred to any of them that it might not be exactly right to break
+into a closed house in this fashion, the idea was quickly dismissed.</p>
+
+<p>Jack was watching for them, sprawled at his ease on the grass by the
+window. He was rather proud of having been the discoverer of it.</p>
+
+<p>In the heart of the country it could hardly <a name="Page_204" id="Page_204"></a>have been quieter than it was
+in the Gilpin grounds that afternoon. Now and then some vehicle could be
+heard going up or down the hill, or the whistle of a canal-boat broke in
+upon the drowsy droning hum that was part of the summer stillness. There
+was no one to interfere. Even if Celia brought her work to the arbor, it
+was on the other side of the house, out of sight and hearing.</p>
+
+<p>The first obstacle the expedition encountered was the impossibility of
+Maurice's getting through to the stairway with his crutch. It was plain
+that it was out of the question, yet it was terribly hard to give up.
+There was a spice of daring in the adventure that appealed to him. For a
+moment he had a most uncomfortable sensation in his throat; and the old
+pettishness returned as he thundered at Katherine, in response to her
+reiterated, &quot;You mustn't do it, Maurice,&quot; &quot;I wish you'd hush. I know what
+I can do!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We are dreadfully sorry, Maurice, but you can keep watch and give the
+alarm if any one comes,&quot; said Belle.</p>
+
+<p>Rosalind's oak leaf, as she stood before him, recalled <a name="Page_205" id="Page_205"></a>him, and suggested
+that here was a hard thing to be bravely borne.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Go on,&quot; he said; &quot;I'll wait for you here. I don't mind.&quot; His tone was
+almost cheerful. His ill temper came near getting the better of him
+however, when Katherine insisted upon staying too. Katherine couldn't
+understand that people sometimes did not want to be pitied; and she was
+not very anxious, if the truth were known, to join the exploring party.</p>
+
+<p>There was no way of escape for her. The others were too urgent, and
+Maurice did not want her.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There is an imprisoned maiden in the tower, and we are going to rescue
+her.&quot; As she spoke Rosalind pointed to the garret window.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What fun! Come on,&quot; cried Belle.</p>
+
+<p>Jack had already wriggled in.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is rather dusty, isn't it?&quot; Rosalind peeped in at the cobwebs
+doubtfully, but the thought of the imprisoned maiden overcame her dislike
+to dust. &quot;Her name is Patricia,&quot; she paused on the sill to say.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And we are going to release her and restore her ring, which a wicked
+magician has <a name="Page_206" id="Page_206"></a>turned into lead,&quot; added Belle, with sudden inspiration.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, Belle, I never thought of that. Perhaps it is the reason nobody can
+find it,&quot; laughed Rosalind, taking one step on the ledge and giving a
+little shriek of dismay.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You won't fall. Give me your hand,&quot; commanded Jack, with masculine
+confidence.</p>
+
+<p>The damp gloom of the cellar was rather frightful after the bright
+sunshine outside. No wonder Katherine crowded close to Belle and their
+voices sank to awed whispers. It was a relief to step out into the hall
+above, where the fanlight over the door made it seem less grewsome. The
+dust lay thick on the Chippendale table and chairs, and from its corner
+the tall clock looked down on them solemn and voiceless. There was no
+denying that it was scary, as Belle expressed it. What light there was
+seemed unreal, and the closed rooms when they peeped in were cheerless and
+ghostly.</p>
+
+<p>They stole about on tiptoe, keeping close together and talking in low
+tones. The library, where old Mr. Gilpin had been found unconscious and
+where the ring had last been seen, was the <a name="Page_207" id="Page_207"></a>most ghostly of all. Belle
+paused on the threshold.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Let's go upstairs,&quot; she suggested. As she spoke she saw on the floor at
+her feet a ring of some dull metal, such as is used on light curtain-rods,
+but under the circumstances there was something a little startling in its
+being there.</p>
+
+<p>Jack seized it, &quot;Here is Patricia's ring!&quot; he cried.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, Jack, hush!&quot; whispered Belle, as his voice woke a hundred lonely
+echoes.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'll tell you; let's take it to the magician&mdash;our magician&mdash;and ask him
+to break the spell,&quot; said Rosalind.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, I wish you wouldn't talk so,&quot; entreated Katherine. &quot;It makes me feel
+as if it were true.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>It was plain that nobody wished to be last on the way upstairs, nor was
+the post of leader very ardently desired, so they settled it by crowding
+up four abreast. In the rooms above they breathed more freely, and grew
+bolder as they wandered about, recognizing things Celia had described.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Do come here,&quot; called Belle, from a small <a name="Page_208" id="Page_208"></a>room, hardly more than a
+closet, which opened from one of the bed chambers, &quot;and see this funny
+picture.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>There was one window in this room, and the outside shutters had round
+openings near the top through which the light came. The others looked at
+the print, and then Rosalind returned to a work-table that pleased her
+fancy, Katherine following her. As Belle lingered, Jack, in a spirit of
+mischief, suddenly pulled the door to.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Jack! Jack! please let me out,&quot; she cried.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why don't you come out, goosie?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You have locked the door. Please, Jack!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It isn't locked,&quot; Jack insisted, but when he tried to open it he found
+the knob immovable.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Maybe it is a dead latch,&quot; suggested Rosalind. &quot;He is trying, Belle,
+really.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Are you sure you can't open it from the inside?&quot; Jack asked anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes. I can turn the key both ways, but something holds the knob.&quot; Belle's
+voice was tremulous.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I am dreadfully sorry. What shall we do?&quot; asked Jack, meekly, turning to
+Rosalind, after their efforts had proved fruitless.<a name="Page_209" id="Page_209"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;Couldn't we open a window and call to Maurice? He would go for some one.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Jack acted upon this and opened a shutter of the hall window, but when he
+looked out no Maurice was to be seen, nor was there any response to his
+whistle.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'll have to go myself,&quot; he said, &quot;unless you'd rather go.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, Katherine and I will stay with Belle while you go,&quot; Rosalind
+answered, adding, &quot;Jack, I think Morgan is working at the Fairs'. He could
+get the door open, I am sure.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;All right,&quot; said Jack, but as he turned to go Katherine began to cry. &quot;I
+am afraid to stay here,&quot; she sobbed, quite beside herself with terror.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh! what are you going to do?&quot; came in a wail from the other side of the
+door.</p>
+
+<p>Rosalind and Jack looked at each other. &quot;Take her with you; I don't
+mind&mdash;much,&quot; she said.</p>
+
+<p>Jack was disposed to argue with Katherine. &quot;There is nothing to be afraid
+of. You ought to stay with Rosalind,&quot; he urged, but Katherine was beyond
+reasoning with her fears.<a name="Page_210" id="Page_210"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;Never mind, if you hurry it won't be long, Belle and I can talk through
+the keyhole.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Very reluctantly Jack left her, accompanied by the tearful Katherine.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Belle, you aren't afraid?&quot; asked Rosalind, softly, as the sound of
+retreating steps grew faint.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not v-ery,&quot; whispered Belle. &quot;But you don't know how queer those holes in
+the shutters look&mdash;like big round eyes staring at me. I have tried to open
+them but I can't.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Belle, it is funny, isn't it, that there is an imprisoned maiden after
+all?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, Rosalind, I know how it feels now. It is awful!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I think I know a little about it too,&quot; said Rosalind, sure that it was
+almost as bad to have that lonely, echoing house behind her as to be
+locked in. &quot;Did you remember your oak leaf?&quot; she asked.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, and I am not going to cry. Rosalind, we might have let Maurice in at
+the door. Wasn't it stupid of us?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, Belle! of course we might.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Katherine and Jack meanwhile had made their <a name="Page_211" id="Page_211"></a>way out, the latter requiring
+a good deal of help, for getting in was easier than getting out. Jack was
+very indignant with her for not staying with Rosalind, and treated her
+with a cold disdain most trying.</p>
+
+<p>As soon as she was in the open air, Katherine bitterly repented of her
+cowardice. She followed Jack meekly as he strode across the grass toward
+the Fairs', utterly ignoring her.</p>
+
+<p>A sound of voices came from the summer-house, and Jack looked in to
+discover Maurice talking to Miss Celia. He briefly explained the trouble,
+adding, &quot;If Morgan is at your house, Miss Celia, I'll go for him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I think you will find him. But what a thing for you children to do!&quot;
+Celia exclaimed, &quot;Who stayed with Belle?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Rosalind. Katherine was afraid.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Katherine, who lingered outside, shrunk back as he said this. Her tears
+began afresh. They all thought her a coward. She didn't want Miss Celia or
+Maurice to see her. She turned and ran away.<a name="Page_212" id="Page_212"></a></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_NINETEENTH" id="CHAPTER_NINETEENTH" ></a>CHAPTER NINETEENTH.</h2>
+
+<h3>OLD ACQUAINTANCE.</h3>
+
+<p class='center'>&quot;And there begins my sadness.&quot;</p>
+
+
+<p>Allan Whittredge, strolling up the hill toward the Gilpin place late in
+the afternoon, became aware of a dejected figure approaching, which
+presently resolved itself into Katherine Roberts, who paused every few
+minutes to press her handkerchief to her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, Katherine, what is the trouble?&quot; he asked, when he reached her side.</p>
+
+<p>She stood still, not answering, and with her eyes covered. No one was in
+sight up or down the street. Allan drew her toward a convenient carriage
+block and, sitting beside her, asked his question again. His manner was
+winning, and Katherine, in great need of sympathy, sobbed, &quot;They won't
+like me any more.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Who won't?&quot;<a name="Page_213" id="Page_213"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;Jack or Rosalind, or any of them,&quot; came in quivering tones.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, what have you done that is so terrible? I thought quarrels were
+unknown in the Forest.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Katherine shook her head. &quot;It wasn't a quarrel. I was afraid because it
+was dark,&mdash;and Jack said I was a coward. He told Maurice and Miss Celia
+so.&quot; The confession ended in more tears.</p>
+
+<p>Patiently Allan questioned and listened until he had a fairly clear idea
+of the situation. Then he spoke with cheerfulness.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You all ought to be dealt with for getting into such mischief,&quot; he said.
+&quot;And now don't cry any more. Many a soldier has run away from his first
+battle-field. If I were you, I'd own up I had been a coward and say I was
+sorry. Do you want to come back with me, and see the end of this
+adventure?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Greatly comforted, Katherine dried her eyes and decided to go with Mr.
+Whittredge. Jack might not be so hard on her when he saw her under such
+protection.</p>
+
+<p>By this time Jack had found Morgan and brought him to the Gilpin house,
+where Celia <a name="Page_214" id="Page_214"></a>and Maurice were waiting; and at Celia's suggestion he went
+in and opened the side door, thus making entrance easy for the others.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How silly not to have thought of letting Maurice in this way before,&quot; he
+exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>The old house, a moment before so ghostly, now rang with the sound of
+voices as Rosalind, leaning over the stair rail, joyfully welcomed the
+rescuers.</p>
+
+<p>The magician had some tools with him, but be seemed puzzled at first as to
+what the trouble could be, when Celia said, &quot;I know what the matter is.
+Belle, isn't there a little catch at the side of the lock that moves up
+and down? Try.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes,&quot; answered Belle, after a moment's investigation.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then push it up,&quot; said Celia, but before the words were out of her mouth
+Belle had the door open and was being as warmly welcomed by Rosalind as if
+they had been separated for years instead of minutes.</p>
+
+<p>Belle was really pale from the trying experience, and had to wink rapidly
+to keep the tears of relief out of her eyes, while Celia explained the
+accident.<a name="Page_215" id="Page_215"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;You see, when Jack banged the door the catch fell and kept the knob from
+turning. We have one that has given us a good deal of trouble.&quot; Then she
+put her arm around Belle and reminded her that the way of transgressors is
+hard.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But I wasn't doing anything wrong,&quot; replied Belle.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Everything came true, Maurice,&quot; Rosalind said merrily. &quot;First Belle found
+a ring, and then the imprisoned maiden was rescued; but her name wasn't
+Patricia, after all.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I don't believe she wants to play the part again,&quot; said Celia.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Indeed, I don't,&quot; answered Belle. &quot;Here is the enchanted ring, Rosalind.
+Ask the magician to break the spell.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What children you are!&quot; Celia laughed, and her face was full of
+brightness as she descended the stairs with Belle beside her, the others
+following. Three steps from the bottom she came face to face with Allan
+Whittredge and Katherine.</p>
+
+<p>Celia hated herself for her burning cheeks as she bowed gravely. One hand
+held her work <a name="Page_216" id="Page_216"></a>big, the other was on Belle's shoulder; and if, us for a
+fleeting instant she thought, Allan was about to hold out his hand, he
+changed his mind. His manner was calmly, unconcernedly polite as he spoke
+her name.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Uncle Allan, what are you doing here?&quot; called Rosalind.</p>
+
+<p>Under the chorus of greetings and explanations Celia slipped away. Her
+thoughts were in a tumult as she hurried across the grounds to her own
+home.</p>
+
+<p>Her mother was on the porch with a caller, and Celia took her seat there
+and went on with her sewing. The visitor remarked on her improved color,
+and Mrs. Fair looked at her daughter in some perplexity, Celia had been so
+pale of late.</p>
+
+<p>All the evening she worked with feverish energy, writing labels for fruit
+jars and pasting them on, until no shadow of an excuse remained for not
+going to bed.</p>
+
+<p>When at length she went to her room, it was to sit at the open window
+gazing blankly out into the darkness. She had been telling herself
+fiercely how silly and weak she was, but <a name="Page_217" id="Page_217"></a>she had not succeeded in
+conquering her unhappiness. Now she resisted no longer.</p>
+
+<p>She had not met Allan Whittredge face to face before for six years,
+although since his father's death he had been frequently in Friendship.
+She had known it must happen sometime, and had schooled herself to think
+it would mean nothing to her, but instead it had brought back a host of
+vain regrets.</p>
+
+<p>She had been happier of late. Association with those light-hearted
+children had brought back something of her old hopefulness. That a chance
+meeting with Allan Whittredge could change all this, humiliated her.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You haven't any pride, Celia Fair. It was your own doing.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I had to do it; it was forced on me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And a fortunate thing it was. Do you suppose he would care now? These
+years which he has spent out in the world&mdash;what have they done for you?
+They have turned a happy-hearted girl into a bitter, disappointed woman.&quot;
+So she argued with herself.</p>
+
+<p>Resting her head on the sill, she let her thoughts go where they would.<a name="Page_218" id="Page_218"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;You are sure you won't forget, Celia? It is going to be a long time,&quot;
+Allan had said. She was still a schoolgirl, and he just through college,
+and no one but her father knew about it. Dr. Fair had shaken his head, but
+he loved Allan almost as much as he loved Celia. Allan must do as his
+mother wished and go abroad. Time would show of what stuff their love was
+made, he said.</p>
+
+<p>She had been so happy. She had been glad no one knew. Her happiness was
+all her own.</p>
+
+<p>Then had come Judge Whittredge's illness, the trouble about the Gilpin
+will, and the cruel slander that had crushed her father. The brief letter
+with which she returned Allan's letters and ring, was the result of her
+bitter resentment and grief. In her sorrow over her father's death she
+told herself her love was dead, and for a time she believed it. Now she
+knew it was not so.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;At least, I will be honest with myself. I do care. Perhaps I shall always
+care. Oh, it is cruel to come so near happiness and miss it. But it is
+something to have come near it.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;O God, help me&mdash;&quot; she prayed, &quot;not to <a name="Page_219" id="Page_219"></a>choose the desert way. I do not
+want to be bitter and hard.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>As she lay back in her chair, too weary to think; through her mind floated
+Rosalind's words, &quot;Things always come right in the Forest.&quot;</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>It was after dinner. The sun had set, leaving the sky full of opal tints.
+The delicate leaves of the white birch barely moved, so still was the air.
+The whir of the last locust had died away, and the soft splash of the
+fountain was the only sound, as Rosalind in her white dress flitted past
+the griffins and joined her uncle on the garden bench. He welcomed her
+with a smile, and smoked on in silence. They were too good comrades to
+need to talk.</p>
+
+<p>After a while Rosalind spoke: &quot;Uncle Allan, do you know Miss Celia Fair?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I used to.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Silence again.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I like her very much. I think she is sweet, and she bears hard things
+bravely. Belle says, since her father died they haven't any money, so Miss
+Celia works, and the boys are troublesome, and her mother is ill a great
+deal.&quot;<a name="Page_220" id="Page_220"></a></p>
+
+<p>Another silence.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Uncle Allan, was it any harm for me to know her? Belle said there was a
+quarrel, and Aunt Genevieve said, 'We have nothing to do with the Fairs.'&quot;</p>
+
+<p>As he flicked the ash from his cigar, Allan smiled at Rosalind's
+unconscious imitation of Genevieve's tone.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I see no reason why you should take up other people's quarrels,&quot; he said
+gravely.</p>
+
+<p>Then Rosalind told him of her first meeting with Celia, and the incident
+of the rose. &quot;But I think now I must have been mistaken,&quot; she added.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Perhaps,&quot; said Allan, and again he smiled to himself in the twilight, so
+vividly did the story recall the occasional passionate outbursts of the
+child Celia, usually so gentle, so timidly reserved.</p>
+
+<p>That strange letter of hers had puzzled while it hurt. Far away from the
+scene of the trouble, he could not understand the bitterness of the
+strife. That for a village quarrel&mdash;some unkind words, perhaps&mdash;she could
+break the bond between them&mdash;was this the Celia he thought he knew so
+well?<a name="Page_221" id="Page_221"></a></p>
+
+<p>The wound had rankled, but after a time he told himself it was for the
+best. Travel and study had broadened and matured him, and he could smile
+now as he recognized, what was unsuspected at the time, that his mother
+had planned these years of absence in the determination to cure him of a
+boyish fancy which her eyes had been keen enough to detect.</p>
+
+<p>And yet&mdash;his thought would dwell upon her as she stood on the step, her
+arm around Belle, the laughter fading from her face. Not the little
+schoolgirl, but a woman, gracious and tender.</p>
+
+<p>Rosalind danced away to join Maurice and Katherine, whose humble penitence
+had restored her to favor; and over the hedge came the sound of their
+voices singing an old tune. On the still night air, in their clear treble,
+the words carried distinctly:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class='center'>
+&quot;Should auld acquaintance be forgot?&quot;&mdash;<br />
+<a name="Page_222" id="Page_222"></a></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_TWENTIETH" id="CHAPTER_TWENTIETH" ></a>CHAPTER TWENTIETH.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE SPINET.</h3>
+
+<p class='center'>&quot;Thou art not for the fashion of these times.&quot;</p>
+
+
+<p>&quot;Where are you going to put it, Celia?&quot; asked Mrs. Fair.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;In Saint Cecilia's room, I suppose,&quot; her daughter replied. Her father had
+given this name to the sitting room which was her own special property,
+and in which she would have nothing that was not associated in some way
+with her great-grandmother.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I don't believe you ever enter it now,&quot; Mrs. Fair continued
+discontentedly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The spinet won't mind that; it is used to being alone,&quot; Celia answered
+cheerfully, standing before the mirror, fastening an oak leaf on her
+dress. It reminded her that even if her heart was heavy and her life full
+of difficulties, she could still be courageous.<a name="Page_223" id="Page_223"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;Things are sure to come right in the Forest,&quot; she had said to herself
+again and again. Not because she believed it, but because she longed to,
+and sometimes she did believe it,&mdash;just for a little while,&mdash;as she looked
+from Patricia's Arbor across to that bit of sunny road.</p>
+
+<p>Since the adventure of the Arden Foresters the cellar windows of the
+Gilpin house had been securely fastened, and its bolts and bars made proof
+against more experienced house breakers than they. And now preparations
+for the sale became evident. Circulars containing an inventory of the
+things to be disposed of were spread abroad, and it was known that the
+proprietor of the new mills, a stranger in Friendship, had been through
+the house with the idea of purchasing.</p>
+
+<p>As she unlocked the door of Saint Cecilia's room, Celia could not help
+remembering the days when she had looked forward so happily to owning the
+spinet, and seeing it stand beneath her great-grandmother's portrait.</p>
+
+<p>From the cushioned window-seat, where there was a glimpse of the river
+through the trees, she had loved to survey the calm orderliness of the
+little room. At heart something of a Puritan, <a name="Page_224" id="Page_224"></a>the straight-backed chairs
+and unreposeful sofa, the secretary with its diamond-paned doors and glass
+knobs, the quaint old jardini&egrave;res brought from China a century ago,
+pleased her fancy.</p>
+
+<p>How Genevieve Whittredge had smiled and shrugged her shoulders! In those
+days their half antagonistic friendship had not suffered a complete break.
+She must have color and warmth and lavishness, and Celia acknowledged her
+unerring taste and admired the beauty and richness Genevieve found
+necessary to her happiness, even while she returned contentedly to her own
+prim little room.</p>
+
+<p>It had been her dreaming place, and when dreams were crowded out by an
+exacting present, she had closed the door and turned the key. It was so
+much the less to take care of.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I don't see why Mr. Gilpin couldn't have left you some money,&quot; her mother
+said, following her. &quot;It would be such a help just now. How are we to keep
+Tom at the university another year?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Fair had a way of bringing up problems just when her daughter had
+succeeded in putting them aside.<a name="Page_225" id="Page_225"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;I think we can manage in some way, mother. Don't worry,&quot; she said.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But some one has to worry.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then let me do it,&quot; Celia answered, smiling.</p>
+
+<p>Half an hour later she was standing by the spinet, absently touching the
+tuneless keys, when a voice from the window startled her. It was Morgan,
+who with his elbows on the sill, was looking in.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Better sell it, Miss Celia.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Sell it! The idea had never occurred to her. &quot;What could I get for it?&quot;
+she asked, going to the window.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Two hundred&mdash;maybe more.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Two hundred dollars would be a great help toward Tom's expenses, but to
+give up her grandmother's spinet? It took on a new value.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Let me have it to do over and I guarantee you two hundred dollars,&quot; said
+Morgan.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'll think of it and let you know,&quot; was Celia's answer.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It seems like the irony of fate,&quot; she told herself, &quot;to have to sell it
+almost before it is really mine; and yet when two hundred dollars <a name="Page_226" id="Page_226"></a>lie
+within my reach, I can't refuse to take them. Poor old spinet, it is too
+bad to send you away. I shouldn't do it if I could help it; but you don't
+fit in with these times. Or rather, you are helping me out; that is the
+way to look at it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>So it was that the spinet did not long keep company with the portrait of
+Saint Cecilia, its original owner, but was harked away to the shop of the
+magician and the society of the clock case and the claw-footed sofa.</p>
+
+<p>Here Allan Whittredge saw and recognized it one day, and questioned
+Morgan. Allan remembered the prim little sitting room, and how Celia had
+looked forward to owning the spinet, and it troubled him to think she was
+compelled to part with it. When he left the shop he went over to Miss
+Betty's.</p>
+
+<p>After talking for a while about other things, he asked, &quot;Betty, is it true
+that Dr. Fair left his family with very little?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;True? Of course it is. Have you just found that out? Celia is working her
+fingers to the bone, and I wish I were sure those boys are worth it,&quot; was
+her reply.<a name="Page_227" id="Page_227"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;How did it happen?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, I don't think Dr. Fair had the best judgment in the world when it
+came to investments; at the same time, a lot of other people lost in the
+West View coal mines. His death was a great shock; I loved Dr. Fair.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I too,&quot; said Allan. &quot;He was a good man.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I don't know whether you know it, Allan. Perhaps I ought not to tell you;
+but there was some talk of Dr. Fair's treatment having done your father
+harm. I really believe your mother was out of her mind with anxiety, and
+you know she disliked the doctor. He was dismissed, you remember; and this
+was whispered about and exaggerated until I think it almost broke his
+heart. Of course there was no truth in it&mdash;that was made clear in the
+end&mdash;and his death put a stop to the talk, for everybody loved and
+respected Dr. Fair; but it has been terribly hard on Celia.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Allan sat looking at Miss Betty absently. &quot;Terribly hard on Celia,&quot;&mdash;the
+words repeated themselves over and over in his mind.<a name="Page_228" id="Page_228"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;This is the first I ever heard of it,&quot; he said at length.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Betty watched him as he walked away. &quot;As usual I have been minding
+some one else's business,&quot; she said to herself; &quot;but he ought to know it.
+Allan is a fine fellow.&quot;<a name="Page_229" id="Page_229"></a></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_TWENTY_FIRST" id="CHAPTER_TWENTY_FIRST" ></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-FIRST.</h2>
+
+<h3>UNDER THE GREENWOOD TREE.</h3>
+
+<p class='center'>&quot;Must you then be proud and pitiless?&quot;</p>
+
+
+<p>The book containing the constitution of the Arden Foresters lay on the
+garden bench. The Foresters themselves were spending the afternoon at the
+creek at the foot of Red Hill. All was quiet in the neighborhood. The bank
+doors had closed two hours ago, and Friendship seemed to have retired for
+its afternoon nap.</p>
+
+<p>Allan Whittredge unfolded the <i>County News</i> and glanced over it, then laid
+it on his knee and gazed across the lawn with a thoughtful frown. The
+<i>County News</i> presented no problems, but life in this quiet village of
+Friendship did. His talk with Miss Betty had brought him face to face with
+them. He was conscious now that his attitude had been one of complacent
+superiority. He had held himself above the pettiness of village <a name="Page_230" id="Page_230"></a>life only
+to discover, as he admitted frankly, that he had been a conceited fool.</p>
+
+<p>His own indignation helped him to realize something of what Celia must
+have felt at the cruel affront to her father. And his silence all this
+while made him seem a party to it. It was an intolerable thought, but
+Allan was not one to brood over difficulties; a gleam of what Miss Betty
+called the Barnwell stubbornness shone in his eyes as he made an inward
+vow to find some way to convince Celia of his ignorance of much which had
+happened at the time of his father's death, and to gain from his mother an
+admission of her mistake. The question how to accomplish this, filled him
+with a helpless impatience.</p>
+
+<p>He took up the book that lay beside him and opened it. &quot;The secret of the
+Forest: Good in everything,&quot; he read. &quot;To remember the secret of the
+Forest, to bear hard things bravely&mdash;&quot; He turned the leaves and saw under
+Morgan's straggling characters the once familiar writing of Celia
+Fair,&mdash;the firm, delicate backhand, so suggestive, to one who knew her, of
+the determination that lay beneath her gentleness. Did Celia believe there
+was good in everything? Surely <a name="Page_231" id="Page_231"></a>not in all this trouble. Yet she was
+bearing hard things bravely, if all he heard were true. It hurt him to
+think of her carrying a load of responsibility and care. His own life
+seemed tame from its very lack of care.</p>
+
+<p>He closed the book with decision. His task was to unravel these twisted
+threads of hatred and misunderstanding, and he would do it.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, he found time for other things. He began to cultivate the
+society of the Arden Foresters, and to be a boy again in earnest.</p>
+
+<p>Boating on the picturesque little river was one of the pleasures of
+Friendship. Jack Parton and his brothers owned a boat, the <i>Mermaid</i>; and
+Allan now provided himself with one, which he delighted Rosalind by naming
+for her. After this the <i>Mermaid</i> and the <i>Rosalind</i> might frequently be
+seen following the narrow stream in its winding course, making their way
+among water lilies and yellow and purple spatter-dock, between banks
+fringed with willows and wild oats and here and there a dump of cat-tails.
+What pleasanter way than this of spending the early summer mornings? And
+then to find some shady anchorage, where lunch could be eaten and the
+hours <a name="Page_232" id="Page_232"></a>fleeted away merrily until the cool of the afternoon.</p>
+
+<p>With only three in each boat, it was light work for the oarsman; and as
+rowing was something Maurice could do, and as the girls liked to take
+their turn, it often happened that Mr. Whittredge had nothing to do but
+enjoy himself.</p>
+
+<p>Allan smiled sometimes to think how much pleasure he found in the society
+of these young people. He usually carried a book or magazine, but as often
+as not it was unopened.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I suppose the real Arden Foresters did not read books,&quot; he remarked one
+day as, after glancing through the pages of a late novel, he tossed it
+disrespectfully into the empty lunch basket.</p>
+
+<p>They had eaten their picnic dinner and were resting in easy attitudes on
+the grass,&mdash;Miss Betty not being present to mention spines,&mdash;in sight of
+their boats, swinging gently at anchor.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not any?&quot; exclaimed Rosalind, to whom the idea of no books was a dreadful
+one.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But they were in a story and were having lots of fun,&quot; said Belle.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And they found their books in brooks, didn't they?&quot; added Maurice.<a name="Page_233" id="Page_233"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;When you are having fun, you don't read so much, that is true,&quot; Rosalind
+said, burying her hands in the mass of clover blooms Katherine tossed into
+her lap. &quot;We'll make a long, long chain, Katherine, and let it trail
+behind us as we go home.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Give me your experience,&quot; said Allan, stretched at lazy length, with his
+arms under his head. &quot;Have you found that there is good in things
+invariably?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I like Mr. Allan because he talks to us as if we were grown up,&quot; Belle
+whispered to Rosalind.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There is more than you would think, till you try.&quot; Maurice answered.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I think so. Uncle Allan,&quot; said Rosalind. &quot;I shouldn't have had this good
+time and learned to know all of you, if father had not gone with Cousin
+Louis. He said if I stayed in the Forest of Arden, I was sure to meet
+pleasant people, and I have.&quot; Rosalind looked at her companions with a
+soft light in her gray eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;If it were not for you, we shouldn't be having half so much fun,&quot; said
+Belle, promptly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I think you would always have a good time, Belle,&quot; answered Rosalind;
+&quot;but I'm afraid if I <a name="Page_234" id="Page_234"></a>hadn't come to know all of you, I couldn't have
+stayed in the Forest much longer, though the magician did cheer me up.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then the idea is, that it is only when you stay in the Forest that you
+find the good in things?&quot; said Allan.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That was the way in the story. Everything came right in the Forest,&quot;
+Rosalind answered.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I believe,&quot; said Allan, &quot;I should like to be an Arden Forester.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>This announcement was received with enthusiasm.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That is, if I understand it. 'To remember the Forest secret, to bear hard
+things bravely&mdash;'&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And if you are an honorary member, like Miss Celia and Morgan, you won't
+have to search for the ring,&quot; put in Belle.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;The ring is found, and is waiting till the magician breaks the spell. You
+know, Uncle Allan, he has hung it on a nail in his shop, by the door, just
+as if he were trying really,&quot; Rosalind explained.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I think I shall ask to be taken on probation,&quot; Mr. Whittredge continued.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What's that?&quot; asked Jack.<a name="Page_235" id="Page_235"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;On trial. I might not do you credit, you know.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The Arden Foresters refused to admit the possibility of this, and Belle
+and Rosalind began delightedly to enumerate their members.</p>
+
+<p>They rowed homeward slowly, for it was up stream, and as they went they
+unwound the clover chain, and let it trail far behind them until it caught
+among the reeds and was broken.</p>
+
+<p>When they passed the Gilpin place, on their way from the landing, a stop
+was made for a fresh supply of oak leaves from their favorite tree, and
+Rosalind pinned one on her uncle's coat.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I invite the Arden Foresters to meet with me to-morrow under the
+greenwood tree,&quot; said Mr. Whittredge, surveying his badge.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That's poetry, go on,&quot; said Jack.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'll have to fall back into prose to finish. At the foot of Red Hill, at
+half-past seven P.M.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What tree does he mean?&quot; asked Katherine.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Under the greenwood tree is a poetical figure,&quot; Mr. Whittredge explained.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It will be dark at half-past seven,&quot; said Jack.<a name="Page_236" id="Page_236"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;Of course it will be, and that's going to be the fun,&quot; cried Belle.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There will be a moon,&quot; added Maurice, who was wise in such matters.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And what are we to do there?&quot; asked Rosalind.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That remains to be seen,&quot; was all the satisfaction her uncle would give
+her.</p>
+
+<p>Anticipation was the order of the next day, and the hours of the afternoon
+rather dragged. At dinner Rosalind could not keep her eyes from the clock,
+while her uncle ate in his usual leisurely manner, smiling at her
+quizzically now and then.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It will not take more than twenty minutes to walk out,&quot; he remarked, at
+length, when the hands pointed to seven o'clock.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Whittredge looked inquiring.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We are to have a little moonlight party at the creek to-night. We shall
+not be late, Rosalind and I,&quot; Allan added.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You are making a new departure, are you not? A picnic yesterday, another
+to-night. You are really falling into the ways of Friendship.&quot;<a name="Page_237" id="Page_237"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;I am only beginning again where I left off years ago, Rosalind is showing
+me how,&quot; Allan smiled across the table, this time a smile of
+good-fellowship.</p>
+
+<p>The August nights were cool, and Rosalind carried her cape with its
+pointed hood, when, the long ten minutes having passed, they set out.
+Maurice and Katherine were watching for them, and farther down the street
+the Partons joined them.</p>
+
+<p>Under the trees that grew so thick, it was already dim twilight, but when
+they reached the more open country react there was still a glow in the
+sky, and over Red Hill floated the golden moon, attended by a single star.
+On the little sandy beach beneath the bridge, where the water rippled so
+pleasantly over the stones, a fire was burning, and before it on a log,
+with Curly Q. by his side, sat the magician, whittling.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Is this the party? How lovely! What fun!&quot; they cried, running down to
+join Morgan and be received by Curly Q. with ecstatic barks.</p>
+
+<p>The magician was evidently expecting them, for he at once began
+distributing pointed sticks.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What are they for?&quot; asked Belle.<a name="Page_238" id="Page_238"></a></p>
+
+<p>This was soon explained. Mr. Whittredge produced a tin box from somewhere
+and proceeded to open it, and Katherine, who was next him, said,
+&quot;Marshmallows.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, this is a marshmallow roast,&quot; he replied; and fixing one of the
+white drops on the pointed stick, he held it toward the glowing embers.</p>
+
+<p>The others followed his lead without loss of time,&mdash;the magician and all;
+and Curly Q. sat erect and eager, giving an occasional muffled &quot;woof&quot; to
+remind them that he liked marshmallows too.</p>
+
+<p>The rose tints faded from the sky; the moon sailed higher; and the glow of
+the fire grew deeper. The Arden Foresters toasted and talked, and ate
+their marshmallows, not forgetting Curly Q., and were as merry as the
+crickets that chirped around them,&mdash;as merry, at least, as those insects
+are said to be.</p>
+
+<p>When it was really impossible to eat another one, they built up the fire
+for the pleasure of watching it, and sang songs and told stories, the
+magician, with his elbows on his knees, looking from one to another and
+laughing as if he understood all the fun.<a name="Page_239" id="Page_239"></a></p>
+
+<p>The glow of their fire and the sound of their voices could be seen and
+heard far up on Red Hill; so Celia Fair told them, emerging suddenly out
+of the darkness into the firelight. In her white dress, with something
+fleecy about her head and shoulders, she suggested a piece of thistledown.</p>
+
+<p>The children gave her a rapturous welcome and proffered marshmallows; the
+magician looked on smiling. Allan had gone in search of firewood. Celia
+had been up the hill to visit an old servant who was ill, and returning,
+with Bob for guard, had seen the fire and heard the voices.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;At first I thought of gypsies, and then Rosalind's pointed hood suggested
+witches, and it was only when I reached the bridge that I recognized you,&quot;
+she said; adding, &quot;No, I can't stay. Bob is taking me home.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Do stay; I'll take you home, Miss Celia,&quot; said Jack, as Rosalind bestowed
+marshmallows on the grinning Bob.</p>
+
+<p>Celia hesitated, then turned, as if about to dismiss her escort, when
+Allan Whittredge stepped into the circle and cast an armful of wood on the
+fire. Celia retreated into the shadow. &quot;I <a name="Page_240" id="Page_240"></a>must go, dear,&quot; she whispered
+to Belle's urging.</p>
+
+<p>A chorus of protest followed her as she hurried up the bank. She had
+hardly reached the road when she heard her name spoken quietly, and
+turning, she faced Allan Whittredge in the moonlight.</p>
+
+<p>There was some hesitation in his manner as he said, &quot;I can understand your
+wish to avoid me, and yet I am anxious to have a few moments' talk with
+you, now or at any time that may suit you.&quot; As he spoke, a sense of the
+absurdity of this formality between old playmates swept over him, almost
+bringing a smile to his lips.</p>
+
+<p>Celia spoke gently. &quot;I think not. I mean I can imagine no reason for
+it&mdash;no good it could do.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But you can't judge of that until you know what I have to say. Something
+I did not understand has recently been made clear to me and&mdash;it is of that
+I wish to speak.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;If it has anything to do with the&mdash;the difference between your family and
+mine, it is needless&mdash;useless. I cannot listen, I can only try to forget.&quot;
+On the last word Celia's voice broke a little.<a name="Page_241" id="Page_241"></a></p>
+
+<p>Allan took a step forward; &quot;I do not think you have a right to refuse. You
+should grant me the privilege of defending myself against&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Celia interposed, &quot;I have not accused you, Mr. Whittredge; there is no
+occasion for defence, I must say good night.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Nothing could have been more final than her manner as she moved away
+toward Bob, who waited at a discreet distance. There was no uncertainty in
+her voice now, nor in the poise of her head.</p>
+
+<p>Allan stood in the road, looking after her retreating figure. He had
+bungled. If he had begun in the right way, she would have been compelled
+to listen. What could he do to obtain a hearing? After two years of
+silence he could not wonder at her refusal to listen to him now.<a name="Page_242" id="Page_242"></a></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_TWENTY_SECOND" id="CHAPTER_TWENTY_SECOND" ></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-SECOND.</h2>
+
+<h3>CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE.</h3>
+
+<p class='center'>&quot;I sometimes do believe and sometimes do not.&quot;</p>
+
+
+<p>&quot;Belle!&quot; called Mrs. Parton from the porch, addressing her daughter, who
+swung lazily to and fro in the hammock, her eyes on a book, &quot;I can't find
+Jack, and I want you to take this money to Morgan. Your father reminded me
+of the bill just before he left, and I haven't thought of it from that day
+to this.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, mother, can't&mdash;?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Can't who? You know there isn't a soul to send but you, and I must have
+this off my mind. Manda is helping me with the sweet pickles, and Tilly
+has gone to camp-meeting.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Belle rose reluctantly, tossed back her hair, and went in search of her
+hat.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Be sure now to get a receipt,&quot; Mrs. Parton said, as she gave the money
+into Belle's hands. &quot;I am not afraid of Morgan, but the colonel is
+<a name="Page_243" id="Page_243"></a>certain to accuse me of not paying it if I haven't a receipt to show
+him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Belle tucked her book under her arm and walked off.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now, Belle,&quot; protested her mother, &quot;why can't you leave that book at
+home? Don't let me hear of your reading as you go along the street.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I won't, but I like to carry it,&quot; answered Belle, patting it lovingly.
+She was deeply interested in the story, and begrudged the time it took to
+walk to the magician's. Once there, she decided she would stay awhile to
+rest and finish the chapter.</p>
+
+<p>The day was warm, and she strolled along in lazy fashion. The Whittredge
+house as she passed looked deserted. The front shutters were closed, and
+no one was to be seen. Rosalind had gone away with her uncle for a few
+days. Belle amused herself by imagining that Rosalind's having been there
+at all was a dream, and she succeeded in producing a bewildering sense of
+unreality in her own mind.</p>
+
+<p>Morgan was not in his shop, but that he had been there recently was
+evident, for his tools lay scattered about.<a name="Page_244" id="Page_244"></a></p>
+
+<p>After the heat of the street the shop was cool and inviting, and a corner
+of an old sofa offered itself as a desirable spot in which to continue the
+story. It stood against the wall, and with several other pieces of
+furniture before it, was a secluded as well as a comfortable
+resting-place. Belle settled herself to her liking and was at once lost in
+her book. She finished the chapter and read another, and was beginning a
+third when something aroused her. For a moment she couldn't remember where
+she was, then with a finger in her book she peeped around the clock case,
+which with a high-backed chair screened her corner.</p>
+
+<p>The magician stood in the middle of the room, with his back toward her,
+gazing intently at something in his hand. Belle was about to come out of
+her hiding-place when he stepped to the window, and holding the object up
+between his thumb and finger, let the sunlight fall upon it, laughing
+gleefully like a child over a toy.</p>
+
+<p>Belle drew back quickly. Was she dreaming still? She pinched herself. No,
+she was awake, and in the magician's shop, and the thing she had seen in
+his hand was nothing less than Patricia's <a name="Page_245" id="Page_245"></a>ring! She had heard it
+described too often not to recognize it. But how came it in Morgan's
+possession? She sat still and thought.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, after turning it over and over, and nodding and laughing to
+himself in a way that would have seemed rather crazy to one who did not
+know him, the magician disappeared into the back room, closing the door
+behind him. Belle seized the opportunity to steal from the shop. It would
+be easier to think out of doors.</p>
+
+<p>The little brown and white house across the lane was keeping itself
+to-day. Miss Betty had gone to the city, and Sophy was at camp-meeting, as
+Belle happened to know, so she went over and sat on the porch step beside
+a large hydrangea. She must decide what to do. She remembered very
+distinctly the circumstances connected with the disappearance of the ring.
+Morgan had been one of the last persons to speak to old Mr. Gilpin before
+the attack of heart failure that ended his life, but no one had dreamed of
+suspecting him. Could he have had it all this time?</p>
+
+<p>Belle felt ashamed of herself for the thought. If there was an honest
+person in the world, it <a name="Page_246" id="Page_246"></a>was Morgan. She had heard her father talk of
+circumstantial evidence, and how easy it was to draw wrong conclusions.
+She was puzzled. One thing was certain, she had seen the ring in his hand.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now, if he were really a magician, I might think he had broken the spell
+on the ring we found in the Gilpin house,&quot; she said to herself.</p>
+
+<p>She must go back and pay the bill; for if she did not, her mother would
+have to know the reason, and Belle was not sure it would be wise to tell
+her about the discovery. Mrs. Parton acknowledged frankly she couldn't
+keep a secret, and Belle was wise enough to see it wouldn't do to spread
+the news abroad.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I wish Rosalind was here,&quot; she thought.</p>
+
+<p>When at length she made up her mind to go back, the magician was at work
+and greeted her just as usual. Belle wondered if she had not dreamed it
+after all. While he went into the next room to make change and receipt the
+bill, she looked for the ring she and Rosalind had hung on a nail beside
+the door. It was gone. Had any one ever known such a perplexing state of
+affairs?<a name="Page_247" id="Page_247"></a></p>
+
+<p>The magician must have wondered what made the usually merry Belle so
+grave, for he asked if she was well as he gave her the bill.</p>
+
+<p>As she walked slowly homeward, she noticed a large, dignified gentleman
+coming toward her. He did not belong to Friendship, she knew, and she
+wondered a little who he might be. He looked down on her benevolently
+through his spectacles as he passed, and for a moment seemed about to
+speak. Belle quickly forgot him, however, for the ring occupied her
+thoughts to the exclusion of everything else. Even the story so
+fascinating an hour ago, had lost its charm.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Does your head ache?&quot; her mother asked, seeing her sitting on the
+doorstep, her chin in her hand, her book unopened beside her.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, mother; I am just thinking,&quot; was Belle's reply.</p>
+
+<p>She was trying to decide whom to tell. &quot;I wish father was at home,&quot; she
+said to herself.</p>
+
+<p>She went to bed with the matter still undecided, and the first thing she
+thought of when she opened her eyes the next day was the ring. A
+conversation overheard between her mother and Manda, the cook, added to
+her uneasiness.<a name="Page_248" id="Page_248"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;Miss Mary, did you know there was a 'tective loafin' round town?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;A detective? No, I did not. If there is, it won't make any difference to
+you and me,&quot; answered Mrs. Parton.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Maybe it don't make no difference to white folks, but looks like they's
+always 'spicioning niggers,&quot; continued Manda, with a shake of her head.
+&quot;Tilly 'lows it's that thar ring of old Marse Gilpin's.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Hardly,&quot; said Mrs. Parton, with a laugh. Belle, remembering the stranger,
+wondered if it might not be true.</p>
+
+<p>Such talk among the servants of Friendship was nothing new. Since the
+first excitement over the disappearance of the ring, it had broken out
+periodically; but to Belle this morning it seemed a strange coincidence.
+Suppose some one else had seen the ring in Morgan's possession? And now it
+occurred to her to tell Miss Celia.</p>
+
+<p>On her way to the Fairs' she met the stranger again, this time in front of
+Mrs. Graham's school. He was looking about him with an air of interest,
+and as Belle approached he asked if this was not the Bishop residence.<a name="Page_249" id="Page_249"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;It was,&quot; she answered, &quot;but it is a school now.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The gentleman thanked her and walked on.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I believe he is a detective,&quot; she said to herself.</p>
+
+<p>Celia was in her usual place in the arbor bending over a piece of
+embroidery, when Belle found her.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Miss Celia, I have the strangest thing to tell you,&quot; she began, and then
+unfolded her story.</p>
+
+<p>Celia listened in astonishment. &quot;Why, Belle, it isn't possible&mdash;you don't
+think&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Miss Celia, I don't know. I saw the ring, and I know Morgan isn't a
+thief, but I don't understand it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, indeed. Morgan, whom we have always known&mdash;who is honest as the day!&quot;
+Celia was silent for a moment, then she said, &quot;Belle, it seems to me the
+only thing for you to do is to tell Mr. Whittredge. The ring belongs to
+him; he will know what to do far better than we, and he will think of
+Morgan, too.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I would have told him, but he has gone away.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Gone?&quot;<a name="Page_250" id="Page_250"></a></p>
+
+<p>Belle wondered a little at Miss Celia's tone; it was as if she cared a
+great deal.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I don't think he will be gone long. He took Rosalind with him,&quot; she
+added.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then I should wait till his return. A few days more can't make much
+difference. You have been very wise not to mention it to any one.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>But when Belle told about the supposed detective, Celia laughed and said
+she had a vivid imagination, and that it was only a coincidence that the
+old rumors should be revived just now.</p>
+
+<p>As Belle went down the hill, feeling somewhat crestfallen and rather tired
+of the whole matter of the ring, she met Maurice and Jack. Jack had spent
+the night with Maurice, and now they were on their way to the landing to
+take some pictures with Maurice's new camera. They made no objection to
+her proposal to join them, so she turned back, feeling strongly tempted to
+tell her story to them; but she had agreed with Miss Celia that it was
+best not to talk about it until Mr. Whittredge's return, and Belle prided
+herself on her ability to keep a secret.<a name="Page_251" id="Page_251"></a></p>
+
+<p>The interest of deciding what view would make the best picture made her
+forget the ring for a while; but as they sat on the edge of the dock
+waiting to catch a sailboat about to start out, she suddenly said, &quot;Boys,
+I believe I saw a detective this morning,&quot; and she described the stranger.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why do you think he is a detective?&quot; asked Maurice.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, you know they always wear spectacles and try to look like
+ministers,&quot; she answered confidently.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Pshaw! they have all sorts of disguises,&quot; said Jack.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I don't care, I'm sure he is one, and I think he is looking for the
+ring.&quot; Belle pursed up her lips as much as to say she might tell more.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You are trying to make us believe you know something,&quot; remarked Jack,
+with brotherly scorn.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I do. Something I can't tell for&mdash;well, for several days.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Who knows it beside you?&quot; asked Maurice.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Just Miss Celia.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>If Miss Celia knew, it seemed worthy of more respect. &quot;How did you find it
+out?&quot; asked Jack.<a name="Page_252" id="Page_252"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;I can't tell you. It is a mystery; but, boys, I want to keep an eye on
+that man and see what he does,&quot; Belle said impressively.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How about taking his picture?&quot; suggested Maurice.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Just the thing!&quot; Belle clapped her hands. &quot;Let's go look for him now.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Anything that promised some fun was hailed with delight. It had been a
+little dull in Rosalind's absence. When she was with them nobody was
+conscious of her leadership, but now she was away they were at a loss.</p>
+
+<p>They waylaid old Mr. Biddle, driving in from the country with a load of
+apples, and demanded a ride which he good-naturedly allowed them, and they
+drove down the hill in state. When they came within sight of the
+post-office, Belle clutched Maurice's arm. &quot;There he is,&quot; she whispered.
+&quot;Let's get out and wait for him. You have your camera ready.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The obliging Mr. Biddle stopped his horse and let his passenger out. As
+for the stranger, if he had known what was wanted of him, he couldn't have
+been more accommodating. He came slowly down the steps of the post-office,
+and stood within <a name="Page_253" id="Page_253"></a>a few yards of the doorway, where three giggling young
+persons had taken shelter. Maurice had time for half a dozen pictures if
+he wanted them.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He isn't a detective,&quot; whispered Jack, &quot;I'll bet a dime he is a
+minister.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I said he looked like a minister,&quot; Belle retorted.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I am going to Burke's to get him to show me about developing,&quot; said
+Maurice, as the stranger moved away, &quot;Wouldn't it be fun if we could have
+his picture to show Rosalind when she comes to-morrow?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Is she coming to-morrow? Oh, I am glad!&quot; said Belle.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Let's follow and see where he goes,&quot; Jack proposed, as Maurice left them;
+and Belle nothing loath, they dogged the steps of the supposed detective.
+She was both alarmed and triumphant when he was seen to turn into Church
+Lane, but all other emotions were swallowed up in surprise when, instead
+of crossing to the magician's shop, he entered Miss Betty Bishop's front
+gate.<a name="Page_254" id="Page_254"></a></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_TWENTY_THIRD" id="CHAPTER_TWENTY_THIRD" ></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-THIRD.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE DETECTIVE.</h3>
+
+<p class='center'>&quot;'Twas I, but 'tis not I.&quot;</p>
+
+
+<p>The next morning Belle and Jack awaited the 10.30 train, seated together
+on a trunk on the station platform. Celia saw them from the door of the
+express office across the road. Presently they recognized her and began to
+wave, and then Belle came flying over to tell her how they had taken the
+detective's picture and had afterward seen him enter Miss Betty's gate.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why should a detective go to Miss Betty's?&quot; Celia asked, much amused.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why should he go if he wasn't a detective?&quot; Belle demanded.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why not? He may be an agent, or a friend,&quot; Celia suggested, laughing.</p>
+
+<p>A whistle in the distance left no time for argument. Belle flew back to
+the platform, <a name="Page_255" id="Page_255"></a>where Maurice had joined Jack. Celia turned toward home.</p>
+
+<p>She was more perplexed over Belle's story about the ring than she cared to
+own. Not for a moment did she think Morgan had taken it; and yet he was
+getting to be an old man and she recalled something she had heard her
+father say about a certain brain disease that first showed itself in acts
+wholly out of keeping with the character of its victim. Could this be the
+explanation?</p>
+
+<p>It was a relief to know that it would soon be in Allan Whittredge's hands.
+That he would do the kindest, wisest thing, she never thought of doubting.</p>
+
+<p>She had heard with a sinking of heart that he had gone away, and she
+scorned herself for the sensation of relief when Belle added, it was only
+for a few days. Celia deeply regretted the way in which she had met his
+request to speak with her that night at Friendly Creek. Why could she not
+have listened quietly? In these days she was torn by conflicting feelings.
+The spirit of the Forest was slowly tempering the bitterness in her heart,
+but it sometimes <a name="Page_256" id="Page_256"></a>seemed to her that her loyalty to her father was
+weakening.</p>
+
+<p>It was fortunate matters at home demanded her thoughts. Plans for the
+winter, getting the boys off to school, and the many small cares of the
+housekeeper left little time for brooding.</p>
+
+<p>At the station Belle, in her eagerness to be the first to greet Rosalind,
+had to be dragged back out of harm's way by the baggage master, as the
+long train swept around the curve.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You'll find yourself killed one of these days if you don't look out,&quot;
+remarked Jack, descending from the trunk.</p>
+
+<p>But Belle gave small heed. &quot;I am so glad you have come,&quot; she cried,
+seizing upon Rosalind almost before she had her foot on the ground. &quot;Such
+lots of things have happened.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Aren't you glad to see me too?&quot; asked Mr. Whittredge.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, I am especially glad to see you, because I have something to tell
+you. Something I can't tell any one else.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Bless me! this is interesting. Just wait till I find my checks, and we'll
+walk up town together.&quot;<a name="Page_257" id="Page_257"></a></p>
+
+<p>Belle, however, was not destined to relate her story just then, for no
+sooner had they started out, she in front with Mr. Whittredge, and
+Rosalind and the boys following, than Mr. Molesworth joined them and began
+talking about the paper mills. There was nothing for her but to fall back
+with the others, and this was not without its compensation, for now she
+could have a share in telling Rosalind about the detective.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It's all nonsense. I don't believe he was a detective at all, but it was
+fun taking his picture,&quot; said Jack.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I'll have it to show you to-morrow,&quot; added Maurice.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why don't you ask Cousin Betty who he is?&quot; suggested Rosalind.</p>
+
+<p>Belle's deep sense of the mystery of things had kept her from thinking of
+this simple method of solving the problem.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Of course we might,&quot; she acknowledged.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I want to stop at Morgan's a moment,&quot; Allan looked back to say.</p>
+
+<p>At the magician's corner Mr. Molesworth left them; but as it was only a
+step to the shop, the secret still remained untold.<a name="Page_258" id="Page_258"></a></p>
+
+<p>Morgan seemed delighted beyond all reason at sight of them. He greeted
+Allan as if he had been away years instead of days; and tapping his own
+breast, he exclaimed, looking from one to another, &quot;I am Morgan, the
+magician!&quot; Then pointing to the nail where the children had hung the brass
+ring, he added, &quot;I have broken the spell!&quot; With this he disappeared for a
+moment into the back room, but he was with them again before they had
+recovered from their surprise at his strange manner; and now he held
+something in his hand which he waved aloft gleefully.</p>
+
+<p>Belle began to understand that all her anxiety had been needless.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What does this mean?&quot; asked Allan, as Morgan put into his hand a little
+worn case.</p>
+
+<p>The children crowded around him as he opened it and disclosed the
+long-lost, much talked of sapphire ring. In his delight the cabinet-maker
+almost danced a jig, and continued to repeat, &quot;I'm a magician.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It's found; it's found!&quot; cried Rosalind.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And I knew it,&quot; said Belle.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Hello!&quot; exclaimed Jack. &quot;Was this your secret? Did Morgan tell you?&quot;<a name="Page_259" id="Page_259"></a></p>
+
+<p>Belle tried to explain her discovery, but so great was the excitement
+nobody would listen. It was really beyond belief that Patricia's ring was
+actually in their hands. It was some time before they quieted down
+sufficiently to hear Morgan's story.</p>
+
+<p>He had begun work on the spinet several days ago, he said, and upon
+removing the top had noticed something wedged in under the strings, which
+upon investigation he found to be the case containing the ring.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But where is the other ring?&quot; Rosalind asked.</p>
+
+<p>The magician laughed and said that was another story, and he told how the
+evening before the real ring was found, Crisscross had been seized with a
+fit of unusual playfulness, and jumping up on the chest, above which the
+ring hung, had begun to move it to and fro with his paw, presently
+knocking it off and sending it rolling across the floor. He darted after
+it under tables and chairs but apparently never found it; nor could the
+magician, although he searched carefully.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;So the mystery is not ended yet. We do <a name="Page_260" id="Page_260"></a>not know what became of the magic
+ring, nor how the real ring came to be in the spinet,&quot; Allan remarked.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is exactly like a sure enough fairy tale,&quot; added Belle; and then she
+whispered her part of the story, turning her back to the magician, for
+fear he might see what she was talking about.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And how about the detective? Did you think he was coming to arrest
+Morgan?&quot; asked Maurice.</p>
+
+<p>Belle looked a little shamefaced. &quot;I didn't know,&quot; she said.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Whittredge wanted to hear about the detective, and was much amused at
+her description of the taking of his picture.</p>
+
+<p>Rosalind as she listened held the ring in her hand&mdash;Patricia's ring. She
+had thought a great deal about Patricia, and this seemed to bring her near
+and make her more real&mdash;the young girl who had looked like Aunt Genevieve,
+only more kind.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Let's show the ring to Miss Betty! May we, Mr. Whittredge?&quot; asked Belle.</p>
+
+<p>Allan did not appear enthusiastic over the suggestion, but he did not
+refuse, and followed <a name="Page_261" id="Page_261"></a>the children at a distance as they raced across the
+street.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There's the detective now,&quot; cried Jack, at the gate.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Where?&quot; the others asked breathlessly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;On the porch with Miss Betty.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Sure enough, partially shielded from view by the vines, in one of Miss
+Betty's comfortable chairs, sat the stranger.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why&mdash;&quot; began Rosalind, stopping short, &quot;it looks like&mdash;Why, Dr.
+Hollingsworth! I didn't know you were here!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>At the same moment the gentleman started up, exclaiming, &quot;Well, Rosalind,
+they said you were out of town. I am very glad to see you,&quot; and they met
+and clasped hands like warm friends.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Children!&quot; cried Rosalind, turning to her companions, &quot;this is our
+president, Dr. Hollingsworth.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And these are the young people who took my photograph yesterday,&quot; Dr.
+Hollingsworth observed gravely. There was a twinkle in his eye, however.</p>
+
+<p>By this time Mr. Whittredge had arrived on the scene and was introduced.<a name="Page_262" id="Page_262"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;So this is the detective,&quot; he said.</p>
+
+<p>The culprits looked at each other and meditated flight, but changed their
+minds when Dr. Hollingsworth shook hands with them, and said he knew how
+it was to have a new camera and want to take everything in sight, and that
+he really felt complimented.</p>
+
+<p>Belle thought she wouldn't have minded, except for the detective part of
+it, over which Mr. Whittredge made so much fun.</p>
+
+<p>The ring was exhibited, and the whole matter made clear after a while, and
+Dr. Hollingsworth said he was glad to have figured in any capacity in such
+an interesting occurrence.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And how in the world did it get in the spinet?&quot; asked Miss Betty. &quot;I
+believe Cousin Thomas put it there himself, as a practical joke.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Betty might have been holding a reception that morning, so full of
+people did her small porch appear, and so continuous was the hum of
+voices.</p>
+
+<p>Dr. Hollingsworth, it seemed, had been in the habit of visiting in
+Friendship twenty years ago, and finding himself in the vicinity, he had
+made it convenient to call upon his old friends; but, <a name="Page_263" id="Page_263"></a>as he said, things
+had been rather against him. His college friend, the Presbyterian
+minister, was away on his vacation, Miss Bishop out of town for the day,
+and Rosalind, he did not know where.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And so there was nothing for me to do but loaf about that first
+afternoon,&quot; he explained, &quot;but little did I think to what dark suspicions
+I was laying myself open,&quot; and he smiled at Belle.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Cousin Betty, you never told me you knew our president,&quot; Rosalind said
+reproachfully.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Hetty laughed. &quot;You see it had been such a long, long time,
+Rosalind&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That she had forgotten me,&quot; added the president.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, no, I hadn't,&quot; she insisted.</p>
+
+<p>They all felt that they should like to see more of him, and that it was
+too bad he had to leave on the five o'clock train. The last hour was spent
+with the Whittredges, and Rosalind and Allan accompanied him to the
+station. Here, while they waited, Rosalind had an opportunity to tell him
+about the society of Arden Foresters, in which he seemed greatly
+interested, and was saying he should like to belong, when the gong
+<a name="Page_264" id="Page_264"></a>sounded the approach of the train, and there was only time for good-by.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I shall be in this part of the country late in October, and may look in
+upon you again,&quot; the president put his head out of the window to say, as
+the conductor called, &quot;All aboard.&quot;<a name="Page_265" id="Page_265"></a></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_TWENTY_FOURTH" id="CHAPTER_TWENTY_FOURTH" ></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-FOURTH.</h2>
+
+<h3>AT THE AUCTION.</h3>
+
+<p class='center'>&quot;Assuredly the thing is to be sold.&quot;</p>
+
+
+<p>Although the September days were warm, it was plain that summer was
+departing. The flutter of yellow butterflies along the road told it, so
+did the bursting pods of the milkweed, and the golden-rod and asters,
+wreathing the meadows in royal colors.</p>
+
+<p>The potting of plants began in the gardens, housewifely minds turned to
+fall cleaning, the spicy odor of tomato catsup pervaded the atmosphere,
+and the sound of the school bell was heard in the land.</p>
+
+<p>It was always so, Belle groaned. Just when out of doors grew most
+alluring, lessons put in their superior claim. To be sure, there were some
+free afternoons and always Saturdays, but one did not want to lose a
+moment of the fleeting beauty.<a name="Page_266" id="Page_266"></a></p>
+
+<p>Rosalind missed somewhat the constant companionship of her friends. Mrs.
+Whittredge thought it hardly worth while to enter her in school for two
+months, but at the instigation of Miss Herbert some home instruction was
+begun. This Uncle Allan had no conscience about interrupting whenever
+he wanted Rosalind for a drive or walk. As yet he said nothing about
+leaving Friendship. A few brief sentences had been exchanged with his
+mother upon the subject that weighed most heavily on his mind.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Has anything ever been done, any step taken, to correct the unfounded
+report which got out at the time of my father's death, in regard to Dr.
+Fair's treatment of the case?&quot; he asked abruptly one evening.</p>
+
+<p>The color rose in Mrs. Whittredge's face, and she looked up from her work.
+&quot;I do not understand you. How do you know it was unfounded?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;For one thing, because I have taken pains to investigate. I saw Dr. Bell
+in Baltimore.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;May I ask why this sudden zeal?&quot; His mother went on taking careful
+stitches in a piece of linen.<a name="Page_267" id="Page_267"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;For the reason that until a few weeks ago I knew nothing about it. Now I
+cannot rest till the cruel wrong has been in some measure righted.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And you conclude without question, at once, that all the wrong is on one
+side. But I should not be surprised. I have ever been the last to be
+considered by my children.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You are not quite fair, mother,&quot; Allan answered gently, touched by the
+unhappy bit of truth in this remark; &quot;but I'll not defend myself more than
+to say that I am not judging any one. I only wish the wrong on our side
+made right.&quot; And he added, what he realized afterward had the sound of a
+threat, &quot;Unless it is done, I can never call Friendship my home.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Here it ended for the time.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>And now, after a week of rain, October began with perfect weather, and
+from the strangers who flocked to the auction, attracted by reports of
+Lowestoft plates and Sheraton furniture, were heard many expressions of
+delight at the beauty of the old town.</p>
+
+<p>For two hours before the sale began, a stream <a name="Page_268" id="Page_268"></a>of people passed through
+the house, examining its contents, or wandered about the grounds, admiring
+the view and the fine beech trees. Friendship itself was well represented
+in the throng, but rather in the character of interested onlookers than
+probable purchasers.</p>
+
+<p>Miss Betty was there to watch the fate of her silver, and Allan Whittredge
+had brought Rosalind, who was eager to see for herself what an auction was
+like. She hung entranced over Patricia's miniature, which with some other
+small things of value had been placed in a glass case in the library,
+until her uncle told her if she would select some article of furniture
+that particularly pleased her, he would try to get it for her. This
+delighted her beyond measure, and after much consideration she chose a
+chest of drawers, with a small mirror above it, swung between two sportive
+and graceful dolphins. &quot;The little dolphin bureau,&quot; she called it.</p>
+
+<p class="figcenter"><a href="./images/5.jpg"><img src="./images/5-tb.jpg" alt="&quot;SHE CHOSE A CHEST OF DRAWERS.&quot;" title="&quot;SHE CHOSE A CHEST OF DRAWERS.&quot;" /></a><a name="SHE_CHOSE" id="SHE_CHOSE" ></a></p>
+
+<p class='center'>&quot;SHE CHOSE A CHEST OF DRAWERS.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The sale was to begin at eleven o'clock, and silverware and china were
+first to be disposed of. The long drawing-room was full of camp chairs,
+and the audience had begun to assemble when Rosalind entered and sat down
+in a corner <a name="Page_269" id="Page_269"></a>to wait for her uncle, who was interviewing the auctioneer.
+Two rows in front of her she saw Miss Betty, with Mrs. Parton and Mrs.
+Molesworth.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Do you expect to bid on your cream-jug and sugar-bowl when they are put
+up, Betty?&quot; asked Mrs. Parton; adding, &quot;How this chair squeaks! I wonder
+if it will hold me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I haven't made up my mind,&quot; was the answer. &quot;It goes against the grain to
+give money for what is really mine already. I can't get over the
+impression that this is a funeral instead of a sale.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I wonder if the Whittredges will buy anything. I saw Allan in the hall,&quot;
+said Mrs. Molesworth. She was a tall, angular person, with a severe
+manner, a marked contrast to Mrs. Parton, with her ample proportions and
+laughing face. &quot;By the way, Betty,&quot; she continued, &quot;what has become of the
+ring?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I know no more than you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The entrance of several strangers and some confusion about seats, kept
+Rosalind from hearing any more of the conversation for a time. A portly
+man completely blocked the way, and she <a name="Page_270" id="Page_270"></a>began to wonder if her uncle
+would be able to get to the chair she was keeping for him.</p>
+
+<p>When things were quiet again, she heard Mrs. Molesworth say, leaning over
+Miss Betty and speaking to Mrs. Parton, &quot;Why, she was an actress, wasn't
+she?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I don't see that that was such an insuperable objection,&quot; Mrs. Parton
+replied, &quot;In point of family she was just as good as he, perhaps a little
+better. The colonel and I met a lady at Cape May who knew them well. This
+girl was left an orphan early, and through the rascality of her guardian
+found herself penniless at seventeen. She had inherited the artistic gift
+of her family, only in her it took the dramatic turn, and necessity and
+her surroundings all combined to lead her in that direction. Then just as
+she was making a success she gave it up to marry&mdash;&quot; Another interruption,
+and Rosalind did not hear whom she married.</p>
+
+<p>Her uncle now managed to join her by stepping over the backs of chairs,
+and it was not long before the sale began.</p>
+
+<p>From the start it was evident the city people had not come to look on.
+Bidding was spirited, <a name="Page_271" id="Page_271"></a>and Miss Betty's silver soon went &quot;out of sight,&quot;
+as Mrs. Parton expressed it.</p>
+
+<p>Rosalind was highly entertained, and whenever her uncle put in a quiet
+bid, as he did now and then, she held her breath, fairly, for fear he
+would not get what he wanted.</p>
+
+<p>To Allan there was an unreality about it all. It seemed so short a time
+since he and Genevieve and Celia had been children together, taking tea
+with Cousin Thomas and Cousin Anne. What a strange household the two had
+constituted in this old mansion, where their whole lives had been spent.
+As he thought of it, he felt he had an inkling of why Thomas Gilpin had
+done as he did. Perhaps he had felt it would be better to have a clean
+sweep, and thus make possible for some one a fresh beginning in the old
+place. A fine substantial house it was, needing only a few improvements to
+make of it, with its spacious, high-ceiled rooms and wide hall, a most
+desirable residence.</p>
+
+<p>Rosalind's voice recalled him. &quot;May I come again this afternoon, Uncle
+Allan? They may begin on the furniture.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The auction continued for three or four days. Rosalind <a name="Page_272" id="Page_272"></a>became the proud
+possessor of the dolphin bureau; and her uncle obtained also the miniature
+of Patricia, for what seemed indeed an extravagant sum, but he had given
+his promise to his sister.</p>
+
+<p>At the close of the sale on the second day, Allan went into the library to
+examine some books. The throng of onlookers and buyers had dispersed; only
+the auctioneer's assistants remained at work in the hall. Purchases had
+been promptly removed, and the house already seemed dismantled and bare.</p>
+
+<p>Absorbed in his search for a volume not on the catalogue, but which he
+felt sure was somewhere on the shelves, he became aware of Celia Fair's
+voice just outside the door. The next moment she entered the library and,
+going to the fireplace, stooped to examine the andirons. She had not
+observed him. Should he go quietly out, or make one more appeal to be
+heard? Allan hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>With her hand on the high mantel-shelf and her head against her hand,
+Celia stood looking down on the vacant hearth. There was something of
+weariness in the attitude. What a delicate <a name="Page_273" id="Page_273"></a>bit of porcelain she seemed!
+Allan had a sudden, illogical vision of a fire of blazing logs, and
+himself and Celia sitting before it.</p>
+
+<p>He moved out of the shadow and she saw him; but though she stood erect and
+tense in a moment, she did not, as he expected, hasten from the room.
+Instead, she hesitated, and there was an appeal in her eyes very different
+from the defiance of a few weeks ago.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I didn't know there was any one here,&quot; she said; adding, &quot;Mr. Whittredge,
+I have wanted to have an opportunity to say that I regret my rudeness. I
+was unreasonable&mdash;I am sorry.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The childishness of the speech went to Allan's heart. He was conscious of
+keeping a very tight rein on himself as he answered, &quot;Do not say that. I
+can understand a little of what you must feel. But does it mean that I may
+speak now and tell you that only a few weeks ago I first learned the
+cruel, the unwarranted, charge against your father? I had not understood
+before.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Celia lifted her hand as if to ward off a blow, but she did not speak.</p>
+
+<p>Allan continued, &quot;My silence must have seemed <a name="Page_274" id="Page_274"></a>like a consent to it. And
+now, can we not meet, if only for a few minutes, on common ground? Must we
+be enemies because&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not enemies&mdash;oh, no,&quot; Celia said, looking toward the door as if she
+wished to end the interview.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then&mdash;you will think me very insistent&mdash;but there is something I must
+explain to you. First, won't you let me give you a chair?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Thank you, I'll stand,&quot; Celia answered; she moved, however, to a table
+and leaned against it.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is about the ring. You perhaps remember the wording of the will?
+Before I left home to go abroad, so long ago, when I bade good-by to old
+Mr. Gilpin, he said to me, with that odd chuckle of his, 'Allan, I want
+Celia to have the ring when I die,' I replied that I hoped he would leave
+it to you in his will. Again, as I was leaving him, he called after me,
+'Remember, Celia is to have the ring,' It escaped my mind until I heard of
+the will, then of course I remembered. I think he had a feeling that if he
+left it to anybody it should be to a member of our family, and yet he
+wished you to have it. Now we both know what the old man had in <a name="Page_275" id="Page_275"></a>mind;
+but, although things have changed between us since then, the fact remains
+that the ring is yours.&quot; Allan took the little worn case from his breast
+pocket and held it out.</p>
+
+<p>Celia looked at his extended hand, and shook her head. &quot;I cannot take it,&quot;
+she said.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But it does not belong to me; you must take it. You put me in an awkward
+position by refusing.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Celia's eyes flashed. &quot;And how about my position if I should take it? Has
+not all Friendship been speculating about the meaning of the Gilpin will?
+Is not everybody wondering what you are going to do with it? What&mdash;&quot; She
+paused, clearly unable to keep her voice steady.</p>
+
+<p>She seemed about to hurry away when Allan intercepted her. &quot;Forgive
+me&mdash;wait&mdash;just a moment. I see now. I was unpardonably stupid. I am not in
+the habit of considering what people say or may think, but I can see it
+would not do. I seem to be always annoying you,&quot; he concluded helplessly.</p>
+
+<p>A faint smile dawned on Celia's face. &quot;No one can help it; it is just an
+awkward situation,&quot; she said, and left him.<a name="Page_276" id="Page_276"></a></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_TWENTY_FIFTH" id="CHAPTER_TWENTY_FIFTH" ></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-FIFTH.</h2>
+
+<h3>QUESTIONS.</h3>
+
+<p class='center'>&quot;They asked one another the reason.&quot;</p>
+
+
+<p>Although the auction was over, the air of Friendship still vibrated from
+the stir. Bereft of its treasures, the Gilpin house stood an empty shell,
+facing an unknown future; for beyond the statement that he was from
+Baltimore, nothing was known of its purchaser.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why in the world should a man from Baltimore want it?&quot; Mrs. Parton asked;
+and the question was echoed on all sides. Not to live in, at all events,
+it appeared, as weeks passed and it remained undisturbed.</p>
+
+<p>Nor was this the only unanswered question. There was the ring. Miss Betty
+said it might as well have been left in the spinet, for all the good it
+did any one.</p>
+
+<p>Allan had his own unanswered question; without doubt his mother had hers,
+as had Celia Fair, but <a name="Page_277" id="Page_277"></a>they gave no sign to the outside world, nor asked
+any help in finding an answer.</p>
+
+<p>And now came a new excitement. Dr. Pierce, the Presbyterian minister,
+announced impressively one Sunday that on a week from that day his pulpit
+would be occupied by his distinguished friend, Dr. Hollingsworth.</p>
+
+<p>It was explained that he had been South on business relating to a bequest
+to the university, and found it convenient to stop over on his way home.
+Still, with several large cities within easy reach, his presence was an
+undoubted compliment to the village, and Friendship began at once to
+refresh its memory in regard to its expected guest.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Molesworth came across the street to ask Mrs. Parton if she had ever
+heard Dr. Hollingsworth was not orthodox.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Parton had not, and seemed to consider it a minor matter, for she
+went on to tell how pleasant he was, and how fully he appreciated the joke
+of being taken for a detective by Belle.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I trust, indeed, it is not true,&quot; said Mrs. Molesworth, going back to the
+original question.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, I shouldn't worry, Cornelia. He is <a name="Page_278" id="Page_278"></a>not likely to do much harm in
+one sermon,&quot; Mrs. Parton answered easily.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Molesworth shook her head. &quot;You can never be sure. It is not for
+myself I fear, but for the boys. I have tried to protect them.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;If your boys are like mine, they won't get any harm from a sermon. I do
+manage to drag them to church, but it is like taking a horse to water&mdash;it
+is another matter to make them listen.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Molesworth returned home feeling that Mary Parton treated serious
+subjects with undue levity. Mrs. Parton, seeing Miss Betty Bishop
+approaching, lingered at the gate.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well, Betty, I suppose you know we are to have Dr. Hollingsworth at our
+church Sunday.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>She had heard it, but did not seem disposed to enlarge upon it, as was her
+custom with a piece of news.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Cornelia Molesworth is worrying because she has heard he is not
+orthodox.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;She is not obliged to hear him, is she? Nobody can amount to anything
+nowadays without being accused of heresy; however, I fancy Dr.
+Hollingsworth can bear up under Mrs. Molesworth's disapproval.&quot;<a name="Page_279" id="Page_279"></a></p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Parton surveyed Miss Betty with a twinkle in her eye. &quot;I declare,
+Betty,&quot; she remarked, irrelevantly, &quot;you are growing younger. You look
+nearer twenty than forty this minute.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Perhaps it is my new hat,&quot; Miss Betty suggested; but surely she had
+passed the age when one flushes over the possession of a becoming hat.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Parton laughed to herself as she went back to the house, &quot;Do you
+suppose that is why he is coming? Goodness! I wish the colonel was here.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The news was discussed all over town that Monday morning.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What brings Dr. Hollingsworth here?&quot; Dr. Barnes asked, meeting Colonel
+Parton in the bank. &quot;He is a friend of the Whittredges, I understand.
+Anyway, it is a compliment to Friendship.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Friendship is a great place. He liked our looks when he was here a month
+or so ago,&quot; and the colonel laughed his easy laugh.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;More than likely he thinks we need a little stirring up,&quot; Mr. Roberts
+remarked from his desk.<a name="Page_280" id="Page_280"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;Did you hear the joke on my Belle?&quot; the colonel asked, and proceeded to
+relate the story of the supposed detective and the photograph.</p>
+
+<p>The Arden Foresters in their turn talked it over that afternoon, sitting
+in a row near the red oak, which lavished badges of crimson and gold upon
+them now. The October air was delicious. They had raced up the hill and
+down to the landing and back again, for pure joy of moving in the
+sparkling atmosphere.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have something to tell you,&quot; Rosalind announced. &quot;You must all come to
+church next Sunday, for our president is going to preach.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Is that what you have to tell? because I knew it already,&quot; said Belle,
+whose cheeks matched the oak leaf she was pinning on her jacket.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, it is something even better than that. I have a letter to read to
+you.&quot; As she spoke, Rosalind tossed a handful of leaves at Maurice.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That's right, wake the professor up,&quot; cried Jack, following her example.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Or bury him,&quot; said Belle, joining the onslaught.</p>
+
+<p>Maurice, who had been gazing rather absently into the distance, was
+aroused to defend himself, and <a name="Page_281" id="Page_281"></a>the battle resolved itself into a
+hand-to-hand combat between the two boys.</p>
+
+<p>Maurice's crutch had been discarded, and his knee was almost as strong as
+ever, although rough sports, such as foot-ball, were still denied him. He
+had recently arrived at the dignity of long trousers, being tall for his
+age, and Jack had immediately nicknamed him &quot;the professor.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Now, boys, that is enough,&quot; Rosalind said, with decision; &quot;Maurice is
+waked up, I think.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Am I awake, or not?&quot; Maurice demanded of the struggling Jack, as he held
+him down and sat upon him.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Mercy, yes!&quot; Jack cried, freeing himself with a mighty effort. &quot;But you
+must smile; I can't have you looking so melancholy. <i>Smile!</i>&quot;</p>
+
+<p>In spite of himself Maurice obeyed the command.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That's right; now sit down and behave,&quot; Jack added, laughing.</p>
+
+<p>Rosalind took out her letter. &quot;Listen,&quot; she said:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>&quot;<span class='smcap'>My Dear Rosalind:</span> I am coming back to Friendship in a
+    few days, and I want to ask if <a name="Page_282" id="Page_282"></a>the Arden Foresters will admit a
+    new member to their circle? I am greatly interested in what I
+    have heard of it. I have been travelling in the Forest for a
+    good many years, with just an occasional lapse into the desert,
+    but I should like the right to wear an oak leaf and have my name
+    in the Arden Foresters' book, on the page with the magician's.</p>
+
+<p>    &quot;Hoping that this is not asking too much, I am </p></div>
+
+<p>
+<span style="margin-left: 16em;">&quot;Yours affectionately,</span><br /><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 22em;">&quot;</span><span class='smcap'>Charles W. Hollingsworth.&quot;</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Isn't that dear of him?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Does he mean it really?&quot; asked Maurice.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What is the matter with you, Maurice? Of course he does,&quot; cried Belle.
+&quot;He is grand! The detective,&quot; and she laughed at the recollection.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Rosalind is going home before long, and I didn't know whether we would
+keep it up,&quot; Maurice said.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But I shall come back again next summer, and,&mdash;oh, I hope we aren't going
+to give it up!&quot; Rosalind looked anxiously at her companions.<a name="Page_283" id="Page_283"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;Never!&quot; cried Belle.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No indeed,&quot; said Jack. &quot;I am an Arden Forester forever.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;A monkey forever,&quot; growled Maurice.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;That is better than a bear, anyway,&quot; retorted Jack.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Maurice reminds me of the day I first talked to him through the hedge,&quot;
+Rosalind remarked, smiling at him.</p>
+
+<p>Maurice laughed. &quot;I was pretty cross that day. I don't mean that I want to
+give the society up, only we can't meet here much longer, and it seems as
+if our fun was nearly over.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It will soon be too cold to have our meetings out of doors; let's ask the
+magician if we can't meet there,&quot; Belle proposed.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What fun! I almost wish I wasn't going home. You must all write to me
+about what you do,&quot; said Rosalind.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We shall miss you dreadfully,&quot; Belle said, looking pensive for a moment.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But she hasn't gone yet, so what is the use of thinking about something
+that is going to happen, when you are having a pretty good time now?&quot;
+asked Jack, philosophically.<a name="Page_284" id="Page_284"></a></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_TWENTY_SIXTH" id="CHAPTER_TWENTY_SIXTH" ></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-SIXTH.</h2>
+
+<h3>THE PRESIDENT.</h3>
+
+<p class='center'>&quot;&mdash;And good in everything.&quot;</p>
+
+
+<p>Friendship was without doubt a churchgoing community,&mdash;the different
+denominations could all boast of creditable congregations on Sunday
+mornings,&mdash;but on the occasion of Dr. Hollingsworth's visit, the other
+churches had a mere handful to divide between them, while at the
+Presbyterian church chairs had to be placed in the aisles. Such an unusual
+event afforded a pleasing variety in the customary Sabbath monotony.
+Something of a festive air pervaded the assembly.</p>
+
+<p>Celia Fair and Miss Betty Bishop, both deserters from the Episcopal
+church, chanced to be seated together. Rosalind's urgent invitation to
+come and hear our president preach, had brought Celia, and it was, of
+course, for old friendship's sake that Miss Betty was there.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Isn't that Mrs. Whittredge?&quot; she whispered <a name="Page_285" id="Page_285"></a>to Celia, as Allan with his
+mother and Rosalind passed up the aisle. &quot;I don't know when she has been
+at church before.&quot; Then at sight of Mrs. Molesworth Miss Betty gave a
+slight shrug.</p>
+
+<p>A flutter of interested anticipation was noticeable when Dr. Pierce
+entered the pulpit accompanied by the stranger, and it must be confessed
+that the service preceding the sermon was gone through with perfunctorily
+by the greater part of the congregation. After the notices for the week
+had been given, there was a general settling back and recalling of
+wandering attention as Dr. Hollingsworth came forward and stood in the
+pastor's place at the desk.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Molesworth twisted her neck in an endeavor to see if he had notes;
+Colonel Parton decided promptly that here was no orator; Belle smiled at
+Rosalind across the aisle, thinking of the detective.</p>
+
+<p>In the president's gaze, as it rested upon the assembly, was the same
+genial kindliness that had attracted Belle when she first met him on Main
+Street. It seemed to draw his audience closer to him, to make of it a
+circle of friends. His manner was simple, his tone almost conversational.
+At <a name="Page_286" id="Page_286"></a>the announcement of his text Celia leaned forward with a sudden
+conviction that here was a message for her:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is the Father's good pleasure to give you the Kingdom.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Varied were the opinions afterward expressed of the sermon that followed.
+What Celia carried away with her was something like this:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I shall speak to you this morning,&quot; he said, &quot;upon a subject that touches
+each one of us very nearly, from the oldest to the youngest; for whatever
+our circumstances, whether we are rich or poor, learned or simple, whether
+our lot is cast in protected homes or in the midst of the world's great
+battle-field, our task is one and the same: to become citizens of the
+Kingdom of God. This being so, we cannot think too often or too much about
+this Kingdom, or inquire too minutely into its laws, or ask ourselves too
+earnestly why it is that so few of us accept the gift in anything like its
+fulness.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Although it is offered as a gift, there are conditions to be fulfilled,
+difficulties to be overcome. Our Lord recognized this when He said that
+the gate was strait and the way narrow, but He also <a name="Page_287" id="Page_287"></a>said that this
+Kingdom was worth any price, or was beyond all price, to be obtained at
+any sacrifice. He emphasized this by a strong figure. It was better to
+enter into life maimed, He said,&mdash;with hand or foot cut off&mdash;rather than
+to miss life altogether.... The conditions of entrance into the Kingdom
+are apparently so simple it is strange we find them so difficult. I think
+they may be sifted down to two: love and faith,&mdash;the love from which
+service springs, the faith that means joy and peace. If we are to be the
+children of our Heavenly Father we must love, and we must have in our
+hearts that joy which grows out of trust.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Jesus said, 'Seek first the Kingdom of God.' If we do this we need
+concern ourselves with nothing else, and by concern I mean burden
+ourselves. The daily round&mdash;the vast machinery of life&mdash;must go on, but
+after all only he who belongs to the Kingdom is fitted to meet its
+problems. He brings to them a calm confidence, a clear vision. His heart
+does not beat quick with hate or envy. His energy is not weakened by
+worry. His sight is not dimmed by doubt.... Perhaps some of you are
+saying&mdash;what is so <a name="Page_288" id="Page_288"></a>often said&mdash;that it is easy to preach; and you ask how
+one can cease to worry when the path is dark before him; how one can look
+upon the terrible problems of sin and suffering, and not feel their
+crushing weight. If what I am saying this morning were simply what I think
+about it, you are right to doubt. But these are not my words. Can you
+believe that our Lord when He told His disciples to seek the Kingdom and
+all other needful things would be added, was simply giving utterance to a
+beautiful but impracticable theory? For my part, I cannot.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I would ask you to notice that Jesus founded all he has to say on one
+great fact: the love of your Heavenly Father for you individually. Are you
+struggling with poverty, perhaps? Your Heavenly Father knoweth. Try, if
+but for a day, to put aside your anxiety and fix your thought on this. The
+things you need shall be given, and you shall find strength for another
+day of trust.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Have you been wronged? do you find it hard to forgive? are you bitter?
+Your Heavenly Father knoweth. He will take care of your cause. Leave it to
+Him; do not be afraid to <a name="Page_289" id="Page_289"></a>forget it. Seek, ask, knock, that you may obtain
+entrance into the Kingdom of love.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Are you crushed by sorrow or physical pain? Your Father knoweth. Cease to
+fight against it. Come into His Kingdom. Suffering endures but a little
+while; and if you will have it so, out of it will come a diviner joy.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Is the world full of dark problems? Your Heavenly Father knoweth. It is
+His world. Your part is to do, not to despair.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Are you full of youth and hope and glad anticipation? Your Father
+knoweth. He made you so, and in a special sense the Kingdom belongs to
+you. The simple-hearted, the teachable, the joyous,&mdash;of such is the
+Kingdom. Enter in, and immortal youth shall be yours.... Oh, if I might
+help you to know the beauty, the joy, the peace of the Kingdom into which
+we may enter now and here, if we will. Yet we go on our way, oppressed by
+care, warped by envy and hate, our eyes blinded by what we call worldly
+wisdom.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Something like this was what came to Celia; and as she listened, forgetful
+of her surroundings, it linked itself in her thought to the Forest
+secret.<a name="Page_290" id="Page_290"></a></p>
+
+<p>It was not so much the words as the aspirations they stirred,&mdash;the new
+belief in the possibility of high and joyous living, the new courage that
+thrilled in her veins. She was still under the spell when after the
+benediction Miss Betty asked, with a certain timidity, if she had liked
+the sermon.</p>
+
+<p>Celia looked at her blankly for a second before she replied, &quot;Oh, so much!
+It was beautiful. I should like to know him.&quot; She turned away with a
+smile; she was not ready to discuss it yet. She wanted to think.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He held my attention, I grant, but I don't call it a sermon; it was too
+elementary,&mdash;it was nothing but a talk,&quot; she heard Mrs. Molesworth saying.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;If it wasn't a sermon, it was something better,&quot; answered cheery Mrs.
+Parton.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Most magnetic speaker,&quot; the colonel was remarking to some one.</p>
+
+<p>And now Rosalind and Belle claimed Celia's attention, demanding to know
+what she thought of the detective; and she must come back to earth and
+listen and reply and enter into their gayety&mdash;an easier matter, to be
+sure, than responding to the comments of grown people.<a name="Page_291" id="Page_291"></a></p>
+
+<p>The next morning, on her way to class, Celia met Miss Betty and Dr.
+Hollingsworth walking up the hill toward the Gilpin house, and Miss Betty
+stopped and presented her companion.</p>
+
+<p>After some moments' chat about other things, as they were separating,
+Celia said, &quot;I want to thank you, Dr. Hollingsworth, for my share of your
+sermon yesterday.&quot; Her face made it evident that this was no merely
+conventional speech, and the president looked down upon her benignly
+through his glasses.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I thank you for being willing to take any of my thoughts to yourself,&quot; he
+said.</p>
+
+<p>Celia now noticed for the first time that he wore an oak leaf, and she
+remembered with what delight Rosalind and Belle had told her of his wish
+to be an Arden Forester. &quot;I believe,&quot; she added, laughing a little, &quot;that
+I have the Kingdom of Heaven and the Forest somewhat mixed.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You will find when you have lived as long as I have that there are often
+many names for the same thing,&quot; the president answered, smiling.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And do you believe that things always come right in the Forest?&quot; The
+wistful note in Celia's voice told something of her struggle.<a name="Page_292" id="Page_292"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;It has been my experience so far on the journey. But, my dear young lady,
+the one way to test it is to live there.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I mean to,&quot; she said earnestly.</p>
+
+<p>Whatever the opinion in Friendship of Dr. Hollingsworth's ability as a
+preacher, he left behind him a most agreeable impression as a mere man, to
+quote Mrs. Parton.</p>
+
+<p>The Arden Foresters would not soon forget a tramp with him over Red Hill.
+They found him interested in everything, in a light-hearted, boyish way
+that made them overlook the fact that he was the president of a great
+university. When they stopped on the hilltop to rest and enjoy the view,
+he sat on the fence with them and talked foot-ball and cricket, and told
+stories of college pranks without deducing a single useful lesson
+therefrom. This was a surprise to Jack, for Dr. Pierce, who lived next
+door to the Partons, was fond of morals, and went about with his pockets
+full, so to speak.</p>
+
+<p>Before they knew it, they found themselves confiding to him their plans
+for the future.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You must all come to our university,&quot; Rosalind said, with decision,
+&quot;mustn't they, Dr. Hollingsworth? Jack <a name="Page_293" id="Page_293"></a>can study forestry, and Maurice
+can study law; and Belle and Katherine&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I mean to study medicine if father will let me,&quot; Belle put in.</p>
+
+<p>Dr. Hollingsworth smiled upon the bright-eyed little girl, in whose every
+movement self-reliance and energy were written. &quot;Don't be in haste to
+decide,&quot; he said. &quot;There is sure to be something for you to do, and
+Rosalind and I shall be glad if, whatever it is, it brings you to our
+university.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>As they watched the president sign his name in the Arden Foresters' book
+that afternoon, there was stirred in each young heart an impulse to be and
+to do something worth while in the world.</p>
+
+<p>Meantime, the report spread that in returning to Friendship, Dr.
+Hollingsworth had had another object than merely to preach for Dr.
+Pierce.<a name="Page_294" id="Page_294"></a></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_TWENTY_SEVENTH" id="CHAPTER_TWENTY_SEVENTH" ></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVENTH.</h2>
+
+<h3>OLD ENEMIES.</h3>
+
+<p class='center'>&quot;Kindness nobler ever than revenge.&quot;</p>
+
+
+<p>If things came right in the Forest, it was not through effort. One had
+simply to surrender to its spell, to breathe in the beauty and the calm,
+to live there, as the president had said.</p>
+
+<p>Celia's thoughts were interrupted by Sally's hurried entrance.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Laws a mercy! Miss Celia, honey, Mrs. Whittredge's in the parlor. I come
+mighty nigh askin' her what she wanted in dis yere house.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Celia looked up in astonishment. Mrs. Whittredge! What could it mean? &quot;And
+she asked for me?&quot; she repeated.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I done tol' her your mamma was sick, but she 'lowed 'twas you she
+wanted.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Celia recovered herself. &quot;Very well, Sally,&quot; she said, but it was with a
+beating heart she walked the length of the hall. Her enemy! What did it
+mean?<a name="Page_295" id="Page_295"></a></p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Whittredge, her heavy veil thrown back a little, stood beside the
+table in the centre of the room.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You are surprised, Celia,&quot; she said, as they faced each other, &quot;but there
+is something I wish to say to you. No, I will stand, thank you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Celia waited, feeling, even in the midst of a tumult of emotion, the
+tragic beauty of the dark eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Whittredge seemed to find words difficult. She looked down at the
+table on which her right hand rested. &quot;I have made many mistakes,&quot; she
+began, &quot;but&mdash;I have never meant to wrong any one. At the time of my
+husband's illness I&mdash;there were things said&mdash;I did not agree with Dr.
+Fair, and I may have gone too far. It is my misfortune to be intense. I
+was very unhappy. I thought the case was not understood. It was my
+mistake.&quot; She paused.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And my father died, crushed by the knowledge that he was unjustly blamed
+for the death of his friend! The discovery of your mistake comes too
+late.&quot; Celia's voice was tense with the stored up pain of those two years.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Whittredge drew back. &quot;You are hard,&quot; she <a name="Page_296" id="Page_296"></a>said. &quot;We look at things
+from different standpoints. I have told you I wish to wrong no one,
+but&mdash;ah, your father was cruel&mdash;cruel to me!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;My father was never cruel,&quot; Celia cried.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Listen! He told me I was killing my husband. I, who worshipped him. I,
+who&mdash;God knows&mdash;would have given my life to&mdash;&quot; she broke off in a passion
+of grief, sinking into a chair and burying her lace in her hands.</p>
+
+<p>Celia stood abashed and trembling before this revelation of a sorrow
+deeper than her own,&mdash;the sorrow of self accusation and unavailing regret.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Have you been wronged, are you hard and bitter? Seek the Kingdom of love.
+Your Heavenly Father knoweth. He will take care of your cause.&quot; For a
+moment Celia struggled against the wave of pity that was sweeping over
+her, then forgetting everything but the suffering of this woman bowed
+before her, she knelt by her side.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Forgive me,&quot; she whispered. &quot;I do not want to be hard. I, too, have
+suffered, though not like you. Perhaps we wronged the dead by <a name="Page_297" id="Page_297"></a>keeping
+bitterness in our hearts. Perhaps to them it is all made right now. I will
+forgive; I will try to forget.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Whittredge lifted her head. Her face was drawn and white.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I cannot forget,&quot; she said; &quot;it is my misery. But I have no wish to make
+other lives as unhappy as my own. Will you believe me when I say I regret
+the wrong I did, and that I want to interfere with no one's happiness
+hereafter?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I will believe it,&quot; Celia said, holding out her hand.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Whittredge did not refuse it; but her own was very cold in Celia's
+clasp. Drawing her veil over her face, without another word she left the
+house.</p>
+
+<p>Celia sat still, dazed by the sudden onward sweep of things. A meaning, a
+possible motive, beneath Mrs. Whittredge's words occurred to her as her
+heart began to beat more quietly. &quot;To interfere with no one's happiness
+hereafter.&quot; Could Allan&mdash;but no, she would not let herself think it. She
+would stay in the Forest, and work and wait, and trust in its beneficent
+spell.<a name="Page_298" id="Page_298"></a></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_TWENTY_EIGHTH" id="CHAPTER_TWENTY_EIGHTH" ></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHTH.</h2>
+
+<h3>BETTER THAN DREAMS.</h3>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="I like this place">
+<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 6.5em;">&quot;I like this place,</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>And willingly could waste my time in it.&quot;</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+
+
+<p>The engagement of Miss Betty Bishop and Dr. Hollingsworth was announced.
+As Miss Betty said, there was no use in trying to keep it a secret with
+Mrs. Parton spreading her suspicions abroad.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;If you had confided in me and asked me not to tell, I shouldn't have
+breathed it,&quot; that lady protested.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Oh, yes, you would,&quot; Miss Betty said, laughing. &quot;You know you tell
+everything; but, after all, there's no harm done, and no reason why it
+should not be known. I don't blame people for being surprised, either. I
+am surprised myself, and I see the absurdity, but&mdash;&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;There is no absurdity about it. I am delighted. Dr. Hollingsworth is
+charming. I'd be <a name="Page_299" id="Page_299"></a>willing to marry him myself if it wasn't for the
+colonel, and you are going to be as happy as happy can be.&quot; Mrs. Parton
+laughed her pleasant laugh, clearly overjoyed at what seemed to her the
+good fortune of her friend.</p>
+
+<p>Rosalind first heard the news from Belle. &quot;Why,&quot; she said, &quot;if he marries
+Cousin Betty, the president will be related to me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Let's frame Dr. Hollingsworth's picture and give it to her,&quot; Maurice
+suggested.</p>
+
+<p>This was hailed as a brilliant idea, and that afternoon the five might
+have been seen in the picture store in search of a frame for the stolen
+photograph. It was an excellent likeness of the president, and an equally
+good one of black Bob, who, happening to pass at the critical moment, had
+been included unintentionally.</p>
+
+<p>The proprietor of the store, getting an inkling of the joke, hunted up a
+small frame which, with the help of a mat, answered very well. Then the
+Arden Foresters proceeded to Miss Betty's, where they delivered the
+package into Sophy's hands and scampered away, their courage not being
+equal to an encounter with her mistress.<a name="Page_300" id="Page_300"></a></p>
+
+<p>At the bank gate they separated, Belle going in with Katherine to practise
+a duet they were learning, and Jack hurrying home with the fear of his
+Latin lesson before his eyes. Maurice walked on with Rosalind.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Come in for a while,&quot; she said.</p>
+
+<p>The air was crisp, but the sunshine was bright, and the bench under the
+bare branches of the white birch seemed more inviting than indoors. As
+they took their seat there, Rosalind said gayly, &quot;Father will be here this
+week. We are not sure what day.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And then you will have to go,&quot; Maurice added discontentedly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes, and I am partly sorry and partly glad. I am so glad I came to
+Friendship, Maurice. Just think how many friends I have made!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How long ago it seems&mdash;that day when you spoke to me through the hedge.
+You must have thought I was a dreadful muff,&quot; said Maurice.</p>
+
+<p>Rosalind laughed. &quot;I thought you were cross.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I was in a horrid temper, but I didn't know how horrid until you told me
+the story and I <a name="Page_301" id="Page_301"></a>read in the book what your cousin wrote about bearing
+hard things bravely. I suppose if it had not been for you, I should have
+gone on being a beast.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I was feeling pretty cross myself that day. I didn't know then what a
+pleasant place Friendship is. I think I have found a great deal of joy by
+the way, as Cousin Louis said,&quot; Rosalind continued meditatively.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And I thought my summer was spoiled,&quot; Maurice added.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It just shows you can never tell,&quot; Rosalind concluded wisely.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Are you sure you won't forget us when you go away?&quot; Maurice wanted to say
+&quot;me,&quot; instead of &quot;us,&quot; but a sudden shyness prevented.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, Maurice, I couldn't! Especially you; for you were my first friend.&quot;
+The gray eyes looked into his frankly and happily.</p>
+
+<p>After Maurice had gone, Rosalind still sat there in the wintry sunshine.
+Things seemed very quiet just now, with Uncle Allan away for a week and
+Aunt Genevieve not yet returned. She and her grandmother were keeping each
+other company, and becoming better acquainted <a name="Page_302" id="Page_302"></a>than ever before. Mrs.
+Whittredge's glance often rested upon her granddaughter with a sort of
+wistful affection, and once, when their eyes met, Rosalind, with a quick
+impulse, had gone to her side and put her arms around her. Mrs. Whittredge
+returned the caress, saying, &quot;I shall be sorry to give you up, dearie.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>On another occasion Rosalind had told how surprised she had been to find
+that her grandmother did not wear caps and do knitting work. &quot;But I like
+you a great deal better as you are,&quot; she added.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Whittredge smiled. &quot;I fear I am in every way far from being an ideal
+grandmother,&quot; she said.</p>
+
+<p>Rosalind thought of all this, her eyes on the dismantled garden. The
+flower beds were bare, the shrubs done up in straw, the fountain dry, and
+yet something recalled the summer day when she had sat just here learning
+her hymn. She remembered her old dreams of Friendship, and now she decided
+that the reality was best. She shut her eyes and tried to think just how
+she had felt that Sunday afternoon.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;What is the matter, little girl?&quot; The magician's <a name="Page_303" id="Page_303"></a>words, but not his
+voice; nor was it his face she looked into.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Father!&quot; she cried,&mdash;&quot;you dear! Where did you come from?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>It was some time before any connected conversation was possible.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Why, father, how brown you are!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And Rosalind, how tall you are, and how rosy! To think I have lost six
+months of your life!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And I want to tell you everything just in one minute. What shall I do?&quot;
+Rosalind said, laughing, as she held him fast.</p>
+
+<p>It did indeed seem a task of alarming proportions to tell all there was to
+tell; Rosalind felt a little impatient at having to share her father with
+her grandmother that evening. And there was almost as much to hear,&mdash;of
+Cousin Louis, whose health was now restored, but who was to spend some
+months in England, of their adventures, and the sights they had seen.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We shall want something to talk about when we get home,&quot; she was
+reminded.</p>
+
+<p>It would have been plain to the least observant that Patterson
+Whittredge's life was bound up <a name="Page_304" id="Page_304"></a>with that of this little daughter. As he
+talked to his mother, his eyes rested fondly on Rosalind, and every
+subject led back to her at last.</p>
+
+<p>Rosalind, looking from her father to her grandmother, noted how much alike
+were their dark eyes, but here the resemblance ended. Mrs. Whittredge's
+oldest son, although he might possess something of her strong will, had
+nothing of her haughty reserve. His manner, in spite of the preoccupation
+of the student, was one of winning cordiality. Older and graver than
+Allan, there was yet a strong likeness between the brothers.</p>
+
+<p>Rosalind could not rest until she had taken her father to all the historic
+spots, as she merrily called them,&mdash;Red Hill, the Gilpin place, the
+cemetery, and the magician's shop, of course.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Friendship has been good for you, little girl,&quot; he said, as they set out
+far a walk next day.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I used to think that stories were better than real things, father, but it
+isn't so in Friendship. At first I was&mdash;oh, so lonely; I thought I never
+<a name="Page_305" id="Page_305"></a>could be the least bit happy without you and Cousin Louis; but the
+magician and the Forest helped me, and since then I have had a beautiful
+time. I love Friendship. I almost wish we could live here.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;And desert Cousin Louis and the university?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;No, I suppose not; but we can come back in the summer, can't we? And, oh,
+father dear, you'll join the Arden Foresters, won't you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>As they walked up the winding road at the cemetery, Mr. Whittredge heard
+something of those puzzles which had so disturbed Rosalind's first weeks
+in Friendship, beginning with the story of the rose.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It's funny, father, but I hadn't thought till then that grown people had
+quarrels. I might have known it from the story of the Forest; I remembered
+that afterward, and how things all came right.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Poor little girl! You should have been warned; and yet in spite of it you
+have learned that realities are better than dreams.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Father,&quot; Rosalind asked abruptly, &quot;why was it you did not come to
+Friendship for so <a name="Page_306" id="Page_306"></a>many years? Did not grandmamma like my mother? I think
+I ought to know.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Whittredge smiled at the womanly seriousness of the lifted face. &quot;I
+think you ought, dear,&quot; he answered.</p>
+
+<p>With her hand clasped in his he told her the story briefly, for even now
+he could not dwell upon it without pain, and as Rosalind listened she
+discovered that she had already heard a bit of it from Mrs. Parton and
+Mrs. Molesworth at the auction.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We must try, you and I, not to think too hardly of grandmamma now. She
+has suffered a great deal, and it was your mother's earnest wish that the
+trouble might be healed if the opportunity ever came.&quot; Patterson said
+nothing of his own struggle to forgive his mother's attitude toward his
+young wife.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I think, father,&quot; Rosalind said, &quot;that perhaps grandmamma is sorry. One
+day, not long ago, I saw her looking at mother's picture. She did not know
+I was there. She took it from the table and held it in her hand, and I am
+sure she was crying a little.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>That was a happy day, for now they put aside <a name="Page_307" id="Page_307"></a>sad memories, and turned to
+the merry side of life, Rosalind kept forgetting that her father had been
+in Friendship before, and continued to point out objects of interest with
+which he had been familiar long before she was born. So full were the
+hours that it was growing dusk when they turned into Church Lane to call
+on the magician.<a name="Page_308" id="Page_308"></a></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_TWENTY_NINTH" id="CHAPTER_TWENTY_NINTH" ></a>CHAPTER TWENTY-NINTH.</h2>
+
+<h3>AT THE MAGICIAN'S.</h3>
+
+<p class='center'>&quot;I would have you.&quot;</p>
+
+
+<p>Over his work these days the magician often smiled. It seemed to him that
+the good in things was beginning to show very plainly. The atmosphere of
+Friendship was clearing; the trouble which had first shown itself when
+Patterson Whittredge left his home had begun to lift with the coming of
+his daughter. Not that Rosalind had anything to do with it; it was only
+one of those bits of poetical. justice that go to make life interesting.</p>
+
+<p>An onlooker might have observed that he smiled oftener when engaged on the
+spinet than at other times; but if the magician had made any more
+discoveries in connection with it, he kept them to himself.</p>
+
+<p>Now that the days were growing chill, a cheerful fire blazed on his
+hearth, before which Crisscross <a name="Page_309" id="Page_309"></a>and Curly Q. dozed; he had found time to
+renew the motto over the chimney-piece, and the window-shelf was full of
+plants. The Arden Foresters appeared to regard the place as a club-room
+for their special benefit, and dropped in at all hours. The magician liked
+to have them there. As he sandpapered and oiled and polished, it was
+pleasant to glance in, now and then, at the open door, at a row of bright
+faces in the chimney-corner.</p>
+
+<p>Once in a while Celia joined them for a few minutes. She wanted to know
+about the purchaser of the spinet, but Morgan seemed inclined to evade her
+questions. He did not deny that there was a purchaser, but the name had
+apparently escaped him.</p>
+
+<p>Belle suggested that it might be the same mysterious individual who had
+bought the house, and Morgan accepted this as a happy solution when it was
+mentioned to him.</p>
+
+<p>The cabinet-maker was a very queer person at times.</p>
+
+<p>Celia sat in one corner of the high-backed settle alone this afternoon.
+Belle, who had come in with the news of the arrival of Rosalind's <a name="Page_310" id="Page_310"></a>father
+the evening before, had just gone, and Celia, who had spent a busy
+morning, was reflecting that it was too late to begin a new task, and that
+she might as well allow herself to rest. Of late she hid taken life more
+quietly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Morgan seems to have gone out. May I come in?&quot; It was Allan Whittredge
+who spoke, standing in the door.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;He was there a moment ago,&quot; Celia answered, rising.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;May I wait for him here? You agreed we were not to be enemies; can't we
+go a step farther, and be friends?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Celia found no reply to this, but she sat dawn again.</p>
+
+<p>Allan took the arm-chair and faced her. &quot;I seem to be always forcing
+myself on you, but I'll promise you this is the last time,&quot; he said.</p>
+
+<p>Still Celia had nothing to say, but she allowed him a glance of her dark
+eyes which was not discouraging.</p>
+
+<p>Allan went on: &quot;I am so tired of mistakes and misunderstandings that,
+before the subject is closed forever between us, I want you to know the
+exact truth in regard to my feelings.<a name="Page_311" id="Page_311"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;When I received your letter putting an end to things, at first I was hurt
+and angry, and I tried to persuade myself that it was for the best after
+all. You see, I did not know your side, and you will forgive me if I
+confess I thought you childish and lacking in deep feeling. Then, two
+years later, I saw you with the children, coming down the stairs at the
+Gilpin house, and something made me feel dimly that I had wronged you; but
+still I could not understand, until some words of Cousin Betty's suddenly
+made it clear. It was maddening to think what my long silence must have
+seemed to mean to you. Then, for the first time, I saw the real barrier
+between us, and the more I thought of it, the more impenetrable it became.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;But it is hard for me to give up. I have looked at it on all sides; I
+went away that I might think more clearly about it, and of late I have
+begun to hope. I believe that love worthy of the name lives on in spite of
+everything, and I have dared to wonder if your love could have weathered
+this storm; if you still cared, though it might be only enough to give me
+the chance to win you again.&quot; Allan bent <a name="Page_312" id="Page_312"></a>forward in his earnestness, his
+eyes fixed appealingly upon the small, still figure in the corner of the
+settle.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Do you not care at all, Celia?&quot; he asked, after a moment's silence.</p>
+
+<p>Celia lifted her eyes. &quot;Care?&quot; she cried, &quot;I have always cared,&mdash;through
+everything! When I thought you knew and believed the cruel charge against
+my father; when I knew his heart was broken; when he was dead,&mdash;when I
+wanted to hate you, still I cared. Have you cared like that?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>This vehement confession, with its note of defiance, was bewildering.
+Allan hesitated before this unapproachable, tempestuous Celia. Then he
+drew his chair nearer. &quot;Celia, dear heart, do not speak so; I have not
+been tried like you, but give me the chance and see how I will atone for
+the past.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly Celia held out her hand; &quot;Oh, Allan, I am so very bad-tempered. I
+seem always determined to quarrel,&quot; she said, with a laugh that was half a
+sob.</p>
+
+<p>This was enough, the strain was broken; Allan forsook the arm-chair for
+the settle.<a name="Page_313" id="Page_313"></a></p>
+
+<p>It was perhaps some fifteen minutes later when he asked Celia if she
+remembered the magician, and the tiger with three white whiskers. &quot;What a
+brave little girl you were,&quot; he added.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Little goose,&quot; said Celia.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Does that mean you will no longer follow me blindly?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>She laughed. &quot;What made you think of it?&quot; she asked.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Rosalind inquired the other day if I was the boy.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Allan, I don't know why I told the children that story.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;At least it gave me the courage to try my fate.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I don't think it required much courage.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You don't know,&quot; Allan replied, smiling over her head. &quot;But now, dearest,
+we are going to begin again and live in a fairy tale and forget all the
+hard and cruel things. Do you know, I had a vision that day, in the
+library of the old house? I saw a fire of blazing logs, and you and I sat
+before it, and we weren't quarrelling.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Dear old house! I can't bear to look at it now,&quot; Celia sighed.<a name="Page_314" id="Page_314"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;I am sorry to hear that, for I was planning to live there.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Allan&mdash;you? Wasn't it sold?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I bought it through an agent. I thought perhaps I might want to sell
+again if&mdash;if things did not come out as I hoped.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Even then you were thinking about it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I have thought of nothing else since the day I saw you on the stairs with
+your arm around Belle.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;How unhappy I was! I did not dream that you still cared. It seems so long
+ago. Did you know your mother came to see me, Allan?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Yes. She has keen eyes; she knew what it meant to me. Poor mother!&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I thought I could never forgive, but I believe I do now,&mdash;not
+always,&mdash;but I shall after a while.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Allan pressed his lips to the hand he held; then, still holding it, he
+took the little case from his pocket and put the sapphire ring on her
+finger. &quot;I hope Cousin Betty will be satisfied now,&quot; he remarked.</p>
+
+<p>Celia looked down at the quaint old ring. &quot;How much it seems to stand
+for!&quot; she said. &quot;Rosalind <a name="Page_315" id="Page_315"></a>will be glad,&quot; she added. &quot;Do you know, I did
+not realize how bitter and unhappy I was until I met her one day in the
+cemetery. Her eyes were so sweet, they made me ashamed.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;She told me about it,&quot; Allan answered.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Not about the rose? Did she see that? Oh, Allan&mdash;but I picked it up again
+and carried it home.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;She long since came to the conclusion that she was mistaken in thinking
+it was her rose you threw away.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>It was growing dark. The magician, who had come in long ago, wisely
+refrained from interrupting his guests, but went about putting away his
+tools and smiling to himself. He was just lighting his lamp, when the shop
+door opened and Rosalind danced in, followed by her father.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Mr. Pat!&quot; exclaimed the magician. &quot;I heard you were here. I wondered if
+you wouldn't come to see me;&quot; and he shook hinds as if he would never
+stop, while Rosalind circled around them merrily.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Mr. Pat was one of my boys,&quot; Morgan announced, as if it were a piece of
+news; adding, &quot;We ought to make some tea.&quot;<a name="Page_316" id="Page_316"></a></p>
+
+<p>Rosalind clapped her hands, and nodded emphatically, &quot;Let's!&quot; she cried.
+&quot;Why, there's Uncle Allan! Where did you come from?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I arrived at home a few hours ago and found nobody, so I started out in
+search of some one. How are you, Patterson?&quot; and the brothers clasped
+hands warmly.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;We are going to have tea, just as I did that day when I was so lonely,
+and&mdash;here's Miss Celia!&quot; Rosalind paused in surprise.</p>
+
+<p>Celia stood rather shyly in the door. She would gladly have escaped if she
+could.</p>
+
+<p>At Rosalind's exclamation, Allan drew his brother forward. &quot;You remember
+Celia Fair, Patterson?&quot; he said.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Certainly I do. She was about Rosalind's age when I last saw her.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I remember you very well, Mr. Whittredge,&quot; Celia said, as Patterson took
+both her hands, and looked into her glowing face.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I haven't been told anything, but&mdash;&quot; he glanced inquiringly at Allan, who
+nodded, smiling.</p>
+
+<p>Rosalind caught sight of the ring on Celia's finger. &quot;Oh,&quot; she said, &quot;was
+that what the will meant? Are you going to wear it always? I <a name="Page_317" id="Page_317"></a>know Aunt
+Patricia would be glad!&quot; and she hugged Celia joyfully.</p>
+
+<p>That what followed was a childish performance cannot be denied, but alas
+for those who do not sometimes enjoy putting away grown-up dignity!
+Rosalind had set her heart on having tea, and the magician was no less
+pleased at the idea. He lighted up and filled the kettle, and she set the
+table, while the others looked on and laughed.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I began being a boy again four months ago, and I like it. How old are
+you?&quot; Allan asked, passing Celia her cup.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;About six,&quot; she answered.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then I am ten.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Then you are too little for me to play with,&quot; said Rosalind. &quot;How old are
+you, father?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;If Allan is ten I ought to be about sixteen, I suppose.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Here's to the magician!&quot; cried Allan, and they drank the cabinet-maker's
+health right merrily.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I drink to the ring which has come to its own again,&quot; said Rosalind's
+father; and so the fun went on.<a name="Page_318" id="Page_318"></a></p>
+
+<p>Celia forgot her shyness and was a happy little girl once more.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Let us drink to the Forest and all who have learned its secret,&quot; she
+proposed.</p>
+
+<p>In the midst of it all, Miss Betty walked in.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Well!&quot; she exclaimed, &quot;I think you might have asked me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It isn't too late. This is an impromptu affair in honor of Patterson,&quot;
+said Allan, offering her a chair.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You have no idea what a noise you are making,&quot; she said, greeting the
+stranger. &quot;I had just come in from a guild meeting, and the unusual
+illumination and the sounds of hilarity were too much for my curiosity.&quot;
+Here her glance rested in evident surprise upon Celia.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Celia has something to show you, Cousin Betty,&quot; Allan said mercilessly,
+&quot;and you are not to bother me about it any more.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>Miss Betty went around to Celia and kissed her. &quot;It is what I have been
+hoping all along,&quot; she whispered.<a name="Page_319" id="Page_319"></a></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_THIRTIETH" id="CHAPTER_THIRTIETH" ></a>CHAPTER THIRTIETH.</h2>
+
+<h3>OAK LEAVES.</h3>
+
+<p class='center'>&quot;Bid me farewell.&quot;</p>
+
+
+<p>&quot;I have something to tell you,&quot; said Belle, as the Arden Foresters walked
+up the hill toward the Gilpin place.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;So have I,&quot; added Rosalind, &quot;something lovely,&quot; and she waved a small
+package aloft.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Is it something for us?&quot; Katherine asked.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Let Belle tell hers first. Mine must wait till we get to the oak tree.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;It is about the ring. I have found out how it came to be in the spinet,&quot;
+Belle announced.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Really? How?&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;Lucy Brown, Aunt Milly's granddaughter, put it there,&quot; she began, all
+eagerness to tell her news. &quot;Aunt Milly, you know, was Mr. Gilpin's <a name="Page_320" id="Page_320"></a>cook,
+and Lucy had come in from the country to stay with her a few days, when he
+was taken ill. The morning he died she found the case with the ring in it
+under the library table, and she carried it into the drawing-room, where
+she was dusting, meaning to show it to her grandmother. Just as she had
+opened the spinet some one called to her to run for Dr. Fair, that Mr.
+Gilpin was dying, and in a great hurry she pushed the ring case under the
+strings and closed the lid and forgot all about it. She went home before
+anybody knew the ring was lost, and never thought of it again till she
+came to Friendship the other day and our Manda was telling her about the
+magician's finding it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I am almost sorry we know how it happened,&quot; said Rosalind. &quot;I liked to
+think the magician had really broken the spell.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>It was the last meeting of the Arden Foresters before Rosalind's
+departure, and in spite of the wintry day they decided it must be held
+under the oak tree; and little cared they for the weather as they rustled
+through the fallen leaves beneath the bare brown trees.<a name="Page_321" id="Page_321"></a></p>
+
+<p>&quot;I believe it is going to snow,&quot; said Jack, turning up his collar.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;If you'll stay we'll take you coasting down the Gilpin hill,&quot; Maurice
+added.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;I am afraid if I waited it wouldn't snow,&quot; Rosalind answered, laughing,
+&quot;And now I have something to show you.&quot; They had reached the arbor, and
+sitting down she opened the box she carried.</p>
+
+<p>&quot;You know we have been wondering what we should do for badges when the
+leaves were gone. Just see what the president has sent!&quot; and she displayed
+to their delighted gaze five small, enamelled oak leaves.</p>
+
+<p>If Dr. Hollingsworth was sensitive to compliments, his ears must have
+burned badly about this time. Belle summed them up by remarking, &quot;I just
+believe he is almost the nicest man I ever knew.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>They stood together under the oak tree, and Rosalind pinned on the new
+badges. &quot;Let's promise to be friends, whatever happens,&quot; she said,
+&quot;because we know the Forest secret and have had such good times this
+summer.&quot;</p>
+
+<p>The sun shone out brightly for a moment as <a name="Page_322" id="Page_322"></a>the wind swept over the
+hilltop, rattling the vines on Patricia's Arbor; under the autumn sky the
+winding river sparkled as gayly as when its banks were green; on the
+far-away stretch of yellow road the wintry sunshine lay; and under the red
+oak they clasped hands and promised to be friends always.</p>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MR. PAT'S LITTLE GIRL***</p>
+<p>******* This file should be named 15511-h.txt or 15511-h.zip *******</p>
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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, Mr. Pat's Little Girl, by Mary F. Leonard,
+Illustrated by Chase Emerson
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: Mr. Pat's Little Girl
+       A Story of the Arden Foresters
+
+
+Author: Mary F. Leonard
+
+Release Date: March 31, 2005  [eBook #15511]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MR. PAT'S LITTLE GIRL***
+
+
+E-text prepared by David Garcia, Emmy, and the Project Gutenberg Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team (www.pgdp.net) from page images generously
+made available by the Kentuckiana Digital Library (http://kdl.kyvl.org)
+
+
+
+Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
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+      or
+      (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/5/5/1/15511/15511-h.zip)
+
+      Images of the original pages are available through the Electronic
+      Text Collection of the Kentuckiana Digital Library. See
+      http://kdl.kyvl.org/cgi/t/text/text-idx?;page=simpleext
+
+
+
+
+
+MR. PAT'S LITTLE GIRL
+
+A Story of the Arden Foresters
+
+by
+
+MARY F. LEONARD
+
+Author of _The Spectacle Man_, etc.
+
+With Illustrations by Chase Emerson
+
+W.A. Wilde Company
+Boston and Chicago
+
+1902
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+
+TO
+
+A.E.F.
+
+IN LOVING MEMORY
+
+this story is lovingly dedicated
+
+BY HER NIECE
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: "HOW SWEET THE BREATH BENEATH THE HILL OF SHARON'S LOVELY
+ROSE."]
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+    CHAPTER
+
+         I. THINGS BEGIN TO HAPPEN
+                 "A magician most profound in his art."
+
+        II. ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE HEDGE
+                 "Give me leave to speak my mind."
+
+       III. FRIENDSHIP
+                 "True it is that we have seen better days."
+
+        IV. AN UNQUIET MORNING
+                 "You amaze me, ladies!"
+
+         V. MAURICE
+                 "The stubbornness of fortune."
+
+        VI. PUZZLES
+                 "How weary are my spirits."
+
+       VII. THE MAGICIAN MAKES TEA
+                         "If that love or gold
+                  Can in this place buy entertainment,
+                  Bring us where we may rest ourselves and feed."
+
+      VIII. "TO MEET ROSALIND"
+                 "Put you in your best array."
+
+        IX. THE LOST RING
+                 "Wear this for me."
+
+         X. CELIA
+                 "One out of suits with fortune."
+
+        XI. MAKING FRIENDS
+                 "Is not that neighborly?"
+
+       XII. THE GILPIN PLACE
+                 "This is the Forest of Arden."
+
+      XIII. IN PATRICIA'S ARBOR
+                 "O, how full of briers is this working-day world."
+
+       XIV. THE ARDEN FORESTERS
+                 "Like the old Robin Hood of England."
+
+        XV. A NEW MEMBER
+                 "In the circle of this forest."
+
+       XVI. RECIPROCITY
+                 "Take upon command what we have."
+
+      XVII. A NEW COMRADE
+                 "I know you are a gentleman of good conceit."
+
+     XVIII. AN IMPRISONED MAIDEN
+                 "The house doth keep itself,
+                  There's none within."
+
+       XIX. OLD ACQUAINTANCE
+                 "And there begins my sadness."
+
+        XX. THE SPINET
+                 "Though art not for the fashion of these times."
+
+       XXI. "UNDER THE GREENWOOD TREE"
+                 "Must you then be proud and pitiless?"
+
+      XXII.  CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE
+                 "I sometimes do believe and sometimes do not."
+
+     XXIII. THE DETECTIVE
+                 "'Twas I, but 'tis not I."
+
+      XXIV. AT THE AUCTION
+                 "Assuredly the thing is to be sold."
+
+       XXV. QUESTIONS
+                 "They asked one another the reason."
+
+      XXVI. THE PRESIDENT
+                 "--And good in everything."
+
+     XXVII. OLD ENEMIES
+                 "Kindness nobler ever than revenge."
+
+    XXVIII. BETTER THAN DREAMS
+                 "I like this place."
+
+      XXIX. AT THE MAGICIAN'S
+                 "I would have you."
+
+       XXX. OAK LEAVES
+                 "Bid me farewell."
+
+
+
+
+ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+
+   "'How sweet the breath beneath the hill
+       Of Sharon's lovely rose'"      (Frontispiece)
+
+   "Do you know Miss Betty?"
+
+   "Looking up, he discovered his visitors"
+
+   "They crossed over to speak to her"
+
+   "She chose a chest of drawers"
+
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FIRST.
+
+THINGS BEGIN TO HAPPEN.
+
+"A magician most profound in his art."
+
+
+It was Sunday afternoon. The griffins on the doorstep stared straight
+before them with an expression of utter indifference; the feathery foliage
+of the white birch swayed gently back and forth; the peonies lifted their
+crimson heads airily; the snowball bush bent under the weight of its white
+blooms till it swept the grass; the fountain splashed softly.
+
+    "'By cool Siloam's shady rill
+        How fair the lily grows,'"
+
+Rosalind chanted dreamily.
+
+Grandmamma had given her the hymn book, telling her to choose a hymn and
+commit it to memory, and as she turned the pages this had caught her eye
+and pleased her fancy.
+
+"It sounds like the Forest of Arden," she said, leaning back on the garden
+bench and shutting her eyes.
+
+    "'How sweet the breath beneath the hill
+        Of Sharon's lovely rose.'"
+
+She swung her foot in time to the rhythm. She was not sure whether a rill
+was a fountain or a stream, so she decided, as there was no dictionary
+convenient, to think of it as like the creek where it crossed the road at
+the foot of Red Hill.
+
+Again she looked at the book; skipping a stanza, she read:--
+
+    "'By cool Siloam's shady rill
+        The lily must decay;
+      The rose that blooms beneath the hill
+        Must shortly pass away.'"
+
+The melancholy of this was interesting; at the same time it reminded her
+that she was lonely. After repeating, "Must shortly pass away," her eyes
+unexpectedly filled with tears.
+
+"Now I am not going to cry," she said sternly, and by way of carrying out
+this resolve she again closed her eyes tight. It was desperately hard
+work, and she could not have told whether two minutes or ten had passed
+when she was startled by an odd, guttural voice close to her asking,
+"What is the matter, little girl?"
+
+If the voice was strange, the figure she saw when she looked up was
+stranger still. A gaunt old man in a suit of rusty black, with straggling
+gray hair and beard, stood holding his hat in his hand, gazing at her with
+eyes so bright they made her uneasy.
+
+"Nothing," she answered, rising hastily.
+
+But the visitor continued to stand there and smile at her, shaking his
+head and repeating, "Mustn't cry."
+
+"I am not crying," Rosalind insisted, glancing over her shoulder to make
+sure of a way of escape.
+
+With a long, thin finger this strange person now pointed toward the house,
+saying something she understood to be an inquiry for Miss Herbert.
+
+Miss Herbert was the housekeeper, and Rosalind knew she was at church; but
+when she tried to explain, the old man shook his head, and taking from his
+pocket a tablet with a pencil attached, he held it out to her, touching
+his ear as he uttered the one word "Deaf."
+
+Rosalind understood she was to write her answer, and somewhat flurried she
+sat down on the edge of the bench and with much deliberation and in large
+clear letters conveyed the information, "She is out."
+
+The old man looked at the tablet and then at Rosalind, bowing and smiling
+as if well pleased. "You'll tell her I'm going to the city to-morrow?" he
+asked.
+
+There was something very queer in the way he opened his mouth and used his
+tongue, Rosalind thought, as she nodded emphatically, feeling that this
+singular individual had her at an unfair advantage. At least she would
+find out who he was, and so, as she still held the tablet, she wrote,
+"What is your name?"
+
+He laughed as if this were a joke, and searching in his pocket, produced a
+card which he presented with a bow. On it was printed "C.J. Morgan,
+Cabinet Work."
+
+"What is your name?" he asked.
+
+Rosalind hesitated. She was not sure it at all concerned this stranger to
+know her name, but as he stood smiling and waiting, she did not know how
+to refuse; so she bent over the tablet, her yellow braid falling over her
+shoulder, as she wrote, "Rosalind Patterson Whittredge."
+
+"Mr. Pat's daughter?" There was a twinkle in the old man's eye, and
+surprise and delight in his voice.
+
+Rosalind sprang up, her own eyes shining. "How stupid of me!" she cried.
+"Why, you must be the magician, and you have a funny old shop, where
+father used to play when he was little. Oh, I hope you will let me come to
+see you!" Suddenly remembering the tablet, she looked at it despairingly.
+She couldn't write half she wished to say.
+
+Morgan, however, seemed to understand pretty clearly, to judge from the
+way he laughed and asked if Mr. Pat was well.
+
+Rosalind nodded and wrote, "He has gone to Japan."
+
+"So far? Coming home soon?"
+
+With a mournful countenance she shook her head.
+
+Morgan stood looking down on her with a smile that no longer seemed
+uncanny. Indeed, there was something almost sweet in the rugged face as he
+repeated, "Mr. Pat's little girl, well, well," as if it were quite
+incredible.
+
+Rosalind longed to ask at least a dozen questions, but it is dampening to
+one's ardor to have to spell every word, and she only nodded and smiled in
+her turn as she handed back the tablet.
+
+"I wish father had taught me to talk on my fingers," she thought, feeling
+that one branch of her education had been neglected. "Perhaps Uncle Allan
+will, when he comes."
+
+She watched the odd figure till it disappeared around a turn in the trim
+garden path, then she picked up the big red pillow which had fallen on the
+grass, and replacing it in one corner of the bench, curled herself up
+against it. The hymn book lay forgotten.
+
+"I believe things are really beginning to happen," she said to herself.
+"You need not pretend they are not, for they are," she added, shaking her
+finger at the griffins with their provoking lack of expression. "You
+wouldn't make friends with anybody, not to save their lives, and it seemed
+as if I were never to get acquainted with a soul, when here I have met the
+magician in the most surprising way. And to think I didn't know him!"
+
+The dream spirit was abroad in the garden. Across the lawn the shadows
+made mysterious progress; the sunlight seemed sifted through an enchanted
+veil, and like the touch of fairy fingers was the summer breeze against
+Rosalind's cheek, as with her head against the red pillow, she travelled
+for the first time in her life back into the past.
+
+Back to the dear old library where two students worked, and where from the
+windows one could see the tiled roofs of the university. Back to the world
+of dreams where dwelt that friendly host of story-book people, where only
+a few short weeks ago Friendship, too, with its winding shady streets and
+this same stately garden and the griffins, had belonged as truly as did
+the Forest where that other Rosalind, loveliest of all story people,
+wandered.
+
+Friendship was no longer a dream, and Rosalind, her head against the red
+pillow, was beginning to think that dreams were best.
+
+"If we choose, we may travel always in the Forest, where the birds sing
+and the sunlight sifts through the trees."
+
+These words of Cousin Louis's in his introduction to the old story pleased
+Rosalind's fancy. She liked to shut her eyes and think of the Forest and
+the brave-hearted company gathered there, and always this brought before
+her the fair face of the miniature on her father's desk and a faint, sweet
+memory of clasping arms.
+
+When the doctor with a grave face had said that only rest and change of
+scene could restore Cousin Louis's health, and when Rosalind understood
+that this must mean for her separation from both her dear companions, it
+was to the Forest she had turned.
+
+"I'll pretend I am banished like Rosalind in the story," she had said,
+leaning against her father's shoulder, as he looked over the proofs of
+"The Life of Shakespeare" on which Cousin Louis had worked too hard. "Then
+I'll know I am certain to find you sometime."
+
+Her father's arm had drawn her close,--she liked to recall it now, and
+how, when she added, "But I wish I had Celia and Touchstone to go with
+me," he had answered, "You are certain to find pleasant people in the
+Forest of Arden, little girl." And putting aside the proofs, he had talked
+to her of her grandmother and the old town of Friendship.
+
+She had been almost a week in Friendship now, and--well, things were not
+altogether as she had pictured them. Silver locks and lace caps,
+arm-chairs and some sort of fluffy knitting work, had been a part of her
+idea of a grandmother, and lo! her own grandmother was erect and slender,
+with not a thread of gray in her dark hair, nor a line in her handsome
+face.
+
+She was kind--oh, yes, but so sad in her heavy crepe. Aunt Genevieve in
+her trailing gowns was charming to behold, but no more company for
+Rosalind--at least not much more--than the griffins. Miss Herbert was not
+a merry, comfortable person like their own Mrs. Browne at home. The house
+was very quiet. The garden was beautiful, but she longed to be outside its
+tall iron gates; and she longed--how she longed--for her old companions!
+
+Cousin Louis had given her her favorite story in a binding of soft
+leather, delicious to hold against one's cheek, and her father had added a
+copy of the beautiful miniature. With these treasures she had set out upon
+her journey. But she had begun to feel as if in the great Forest she had
+lost her way, when the friendly face of the magician reassured her.
+
+The sound of sweeping draperies broke in upon her thoughts. It was Aunt
+Genevieve, and she had not learned her hymn. Picking up her book, she
+stole swiftly across the grass till she was hidden by some tall shrubbery.
+Before her was a high hedge of privet; beyond it, among the trees, the
+chimneys of a red brick house.
+
+Walking back and forth, Rosalind began to study in earnest. Looking first
+at her book and then up at the blue sky, she repeated:--
+
+    "'Lo! such the child whose early feet
+        The paths of peace have trod.
+      Whose secret heart with influence sweet
+        Is upward drawn to God.'"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER SECOND.
+
+ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE HEDGE.
+
+"Give me leave to speak my mind."
+
+
+There was another garden on the other side of the hedge; not so large, nor
+so beautifully kept perhaps, but a pleasant garden, for all that. The red
+brick house to which it belonged was by no means so stately as the one
+whose doorstep the griffins guarded, yet it had an importance all its own.
+On week days, when the heavy shutters on the lower front windows were
+open, _The National Bank of Friendship_ was to be seen in gilt letters on
+the glass; on Sundays, however, when they were closed, there was little to
+suggest that it was anything more than a private dwelling. It was a
+square, roomy house, and the part not in use for bank purposes was
+occupied by the cashier, Mr. Milton Roberts, and his family.
+
+While Rosalind, curled up on the garden seat, was thinking of home,
+Maurice Roberts lay in the hammock under the big maple near the side
+porch, where his mother and Miss Betty Bishop sat talking. He held a book,
+but instead of reading was allowing himself the lazy entertainment of
+listening to their conversation.
+
+From his position, a little behind the visitor, he had an excellent view
+of her as she sat erect in the wicker chair, her parasol across her lap.
+Miss Betty was plump and short, and had a dimple in her chin. Her hair,
+which was turning gray, waved prettily back from her forehead into the
+thickest of braids, and altogether there was a pleasant air of crispness
+about her; though something in the keenness of her glance, or the firmness
+with which her lips met, suggested that on occasion she might be
+unyielding. "The Barnwell stubbornness," she herself would have explained,
+with the same complacency she manifested when displaying her grandmother's
+tea-set.
+
+Mrs. Roberts, Maurice's mother, was a gentle person, with large, soft eyes
+and a quiet manner.
+
+The preliminary conversation had not been interesting, pertaining chiefly
+to flowers and the weather, and Maurice gave a sigh of satisfaction when,
+after a moment's pause, Miss Betty straightened herself and remarked,
+"Well, I hear the will is certain to be sustained."
+
+"Then the property will have to be sold?" questioned Mrs. Roberts.
+
+"Yes, and I may as well say good-by to the cream-jug and sugar-dish that
+Cousin Anne always said should be mine. Still, I never shall believe
+Cousin Thomas was out of his mind when he made that last will, it was too
+much like him. Dear knows it ought to be broken, but not on that ground.
+It was a case of pure spite."
+
+"Oh, Betty!"
+
+Maurice smiled to himself at his mother's tone.
+
+"I assure you it was. I knew Cousin Thomas. Didn't Cousin Anne tell me
+dozens of times in his presence, 'Betty, this is your cream-jug and
+sugar-dish, because they match your teapot'?"
+
+"I should think you had enough silver, Betty; still it was a shame Miss
+Anne left that list unsigned," said Mrs. Roberts.
+
+"If you knew Cousin Anne at all, Mrs. Roberts, you knew how hesitating
+she was. She couldn't decide whether to leave the Canton china to Ellen
+Marshall or to Tom's wife. She changed her mind any number of times, but
+she was always clear about my cream-jug and sugar-dish. If Cousin Thomas
+had had any decency, he would have considered her wishes. Think of my own
+grandmother's things put up at public auction!"
+
+"Most of Mr. Gilpin's money goes to the hospital, I suppose," remarked
+Mrs. Roberts.
+
+"Pretty much everything but the real estate in and around Friendship, and
+the contents of the house, all of which will have to be sold and divided
+among his first cousins or their heirs. The only bequests made besides the
+money to the hospital are to Celia Fair and Allan Whittredge. Celia is to
+have the spinet, and Allan that beautiful old ring, if ever it comes to
+light again. I wish Cousin Thomas had left Celia some money. She was one
+person for whom he had a little affection."
+
+Maurice wished so too. He admired Miss Celia Fair, and felt it was too bad
+she should get only an antiquated piano.
+
+"Are the Fairs related to the Gilpins?" his mother asked. Not being a
+native of Friendship, she had difficulty in mastering the intricacies of
+its relationships.
+
+It was ground upon which Miss Betty was entirely at home, however. "They
+were kin to Cousin Thomas's wife," she explained. "Mrs. Fair's grandmother
+was half-sister to Cousin Emma's mother, and raised Cousin Emma as her own
+child. Of course it is not very near when it comes to Celia. The spinet
+belonged to old Mrs. Johnson,--Celia's great-grandmother, you know,--whose
+name was also Celia. Saint Cecilia, they used to call her, because she was
+so good and played and sang so sweetly. It is right the spinet should go
+to Celia, but that would not have influenced Cousin Thomas a minute if he
+had not wished her to have it."
+
+"And the ring has never been heard of?" Mrs. Roberts asked, as her visitor
+paused for breath.
+
+"I doubt if it ever comes to light. It is nearly three years now since it
+disappeared," was the reply. Miss Betty looked up at the vines above her
+head, and her lips curled into a sort of half smile. "I should like to
+hear Cousin Ellen Whittredge on the will," she added. "I don't think she
+cares much about the money, however; it is more that old feeling against
+Dr. Fair. You remember he testified to Mr. Gilpin's sanity."
+
+"And her son?" asked Mrs. Roberts.
+
+"Allan? It is hard to find out what Allan thinks, but there is no
+bitterness in him. He is like his father, poor man! What I am curious to
+know is, what Cousin Thomas meant by saying in his will that Allan knew
+his wishes in regard to the ring. That strikes me as a little sensational.
+I asked Allan about it the last time I saw him, but he only laughed and
+said he'd have to get it before he could dispose of it."
+
+Miss Betty now made some motions preliminary to rising, but as if on
+second thought, she laid her parasol across her knees again and asked,
+"Have you heard that Patterson's daughter is here?"
+
+"Yes, I think I saw her in the carriage with her grandmother yesterday,"
+was Mrs. Roberts's reply.
+
+This was news to Maurice, and he listened with interest.
+
+Miss Betty shook her head. "I am surprised," she said. "That marriage of
+Patterson's was a dreadful blow to Cousin Ellen."
+
+"It seems to me she was unreasonable about it. I am glad she sent for him
+before his father died." Mrs. Roberts spoke with some hesitation. She did
+not often array her own opinions against those of her friends.
+
+"I don't blame her as some do. A person of that sort, and Patterson the
+very light of her eyes! How would you feel if Maurice some day should do a
+thing like that?"
+
+Maurice laughed softly. His thoughts were not much occupied with marriage.
+His mother ignored the question, and in her turn asked, "Did Mrs.
+Whittredge ever see her daughter-in-law?"
+
+"No, indeed. This child was not more than three when she died."
+
+"Poor little thing!" Mrs. Roberts sighed.
+
+"Such a name! I detest fancy names. Rosalind!" Miss Betty rose.
+
+"A good old English name and very pretty, I think. Was it her mother's?"
+
+"I suppose so, but I don't know. Yes, I must go; Sophy will think I am
+lost. Good-by," and Miss Betty stepped briskly down the path.
+
+The gate had hardly closed when Maurice heard some one calling him.
+Looking over his shoulder, he saw his sister Katherine beckoning.
+
+"Maurice, Maurice, do come here; I want you to see something."
+
+Her tone impressed him as unduly mysterious. "What is it?" he asked
+indifferently.
+
+"Come, and I'll show you."
+
+"I sha'n't come till you tell me," he persisted.
+
+"Oh, I think you might, because if I stop to tell you she may be gone."
+
+"Who'll be gone? You might have told it twice over in this time."
+
+"The girl I want you to see," explained Katherine, drawing nearer in
+desperation. "Did you know there was a girl next door?"
+
+"Yes, of course." There was nothing in Maurice's tone to indicate how
+brief a time had passed since this information had been acquired.
+
+"Truly? I don't believe it," Katherine faltered.
+
+"She is Mrs. Whittredge's granddaughter, and her name is Rosalind, so
+now!"
+
+Privately, Katherine thought her brother's power of finding things out,
+little short of supernatural. "Don't you want to see her?" she asked
+meekly. "There is a thin place in the hedge behind the calycanthus bush,
+and she is walking to and fro studying something." Would Maurice declare
+he had already seen this girl?
+
+Maurice sat up and reached for a crutch that rested against the tree. He
+had his share of curiosity. He was a tall, well-grown boy of thirteen, and
+it was apparent as he swung himself after Katherine, that accident and not
+disease had caused his lameness.
+
+Rosalind, studying her hymn all unconscious of observation, was a pleasant
+sight.
+
+"Isn't she pretty?" whispered Katherine, but Maurice silenced her so
+sternly she concluded he did not agree with her.
+
+In reality he thought very much as she did, although he would not have
+used the same adjective. There was something unusual about this girl. Why
+it was, he did not understand, but she seemed somehow to belong in a
+special way to the sweet old garden with its June roses. Maurice had
+fancies that would have astonished Katherine beyond measure if she could
+have known anything about them. But how was she to know when he pinched
+her arm and looked sternly indifferent?
+
+The tea bell called them back to the house; on the way Katherine's
+enthusiasm burst forth afresh.
+
+"Isn't she sweet? and such a beautiful name--Rosalind. How old do you
+think she is? and do you suppose she is going to live there? Oh, Maurice,
+shouldn't you be afraid of Mrs. Whittredge?"
+
+"I don't know anything about her," Maurice replied, forgetting for the
+moment that he bad been pretending to know a great deal.
+
+"I should like to have my hair tied on top of my head with a big ribbon
+bow as hers is," continued Katherine, who would innocently persist in
+laying herself open to brotherly scorn.
+
+"I suppose you think you will look like her then," was his retort.
+
+"Now, Maurice, I don't. I know I am not pretty." Katharine's round face
+grew suddenly long, and tears filled her blue eyes.
+
+"Don't be a goose, then. I'll tell you what she made me think of, that
+statue of Joan of Arc--don't you remember? Where she is listening to the
+voices? We saw it at the Academy of Fine Arts."
+
+"Why, Maurice, how funny! She is much prettier than that," said
+Katherine.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER THIRD.
+
+FRIENDSHIP.
+
+"True it is that we have seen better days."
+
+
+A rambling, sleepy town was Friendship, with few aspirations beyond the
+traditions of its grandfathers and a fine indifference toward modern
+improvements.
+
+During the era of monstrous creations in black walnut it had clung to its
+old mahogany and rosewood, and chromos had never displaced in its
+affections the time-worn colored prints of little Samuel or flower-decked
+shepherdesses. In consequence of this conservatism Friendship one day
+awoke in the fashion.
+
+There were fine old homes in Friendship which in their soft-toned browns
+and grays seemed as much a part of the landscape as the forest trees that
+surrounded them and shaded the broad street. Associated with these
+mansions were names dignified and substantial, such as Molesworth,
+Parton, Gilpin, Whittredge.
+
+In times past the atmosphere of the village had seemed to be pervaded by
+something of the spirit of its name, for here life flowed on serenely in
+old grooves and its ways were the peaceful ways of friendship. But of late
+years, alas! something alien and discordant had crept in.
+
+    '"And what is Friendship but a name--'"
+
+quoted the cabinet-maker sadly one morning when after climbing the hill
+from the wharf he paused to rest on the low stone wall surrounding the
+Gilpin place.
+
+Landing Lane ended at the top of the hill, and here at right angles to it
+the Main Street of Friendship might be said to begin, slowly descending to
+a level and following the leisurely curves of the old stage road till it
+came to a straggling end at the foot of another prominence known as Red
+Hill.
+
+In forty years a life takes deep root, and this time had passed since
+Morgan, a raw Scotch boy of eighteen, had come to Friendship as assistant
+to the village cabinet-maker. A year or two later an illness deprived him
+of his hearing, but fortunately not of his skill, and upon the death of
+his employer he succeeded to the business, his kindly, simple nature,
+together with his misfortune, having won the heart of Friendship.
+
+His fame for making and doing over furniture had spread beyond the borders
+of the town; his opinion was valued highly by collectors, and it was said
+he might have made a fortune in the city. But what use had he for a
+fortune? It was the friendly greetings, the neighborly kindnesses, the
+comradeship with the children of the village, that made his life.
+
+In spite of its rugged lines his face as he grew older had taken on a
+singularly sweet expression, but it was sad to-day as he sat on the wall
+in his knit jacket and work apron, looking down on the town, its roofs and
+spires showing amongst the trees. It seemed to him that the times were out
+of joint, and his cheerful philosophy was beginning to fail him. Something
+had been wrong ever since Patterson Whittredge went away, more than a
+dozen years ago.
+
+Morgan never failed to follow with interest the careers of the boys of
+Friendship as they went out into the world, and of all the boys of the
+village Patterson had been his favorite. He had understood the trouble as
+well as if it had been carefully explained to him. His deafness had
+quickened his insight. A girl's lovely face on Pat's dressing-table, seen
+when he replaced a broken caster, partly told the story, and Mrs.
+Whittredge's pride and determination were no secret to any one.
+
+Judge Whittredge's whitening head and heavy step, his fruitless search for
+health abroad, his return to die at last in his old home, Patterson's
+coming,--sent for by his heart-broken mother,--this was the rest of the
+story. But before this family difference had been settled by the stern
+hand of death, the removal of Thomas Gilpin had precipitated another
+quarrel upon the town.
+
+It was a puzzle to Morgan that a man like his old friend Mr. Gilpin, who
+had it in his power to do so much good, should have chosen to do harm
+instead. As he rose to go, he looked over his shoulder at the old house,
+closed and deserted since the death of its owner.
+
+The site was a beautiful one, commanding a view of valley and hill and the
+narrow winding river. The house, an unpretentious square of red brick,
+with sloping roof and dormer windows, wore its hundred years with dignity,
+and amid its fine trees was an object of interest to strangers, of pride
+to the villagers.
+
+Below it on the slope stood a more modern house, in what had been until
+recently a handsome garden. Morgan, as he passed recalled how proud Dr.
+Fair had been of his flowers. Celia, who was entering the gate, nodded and
+smiled brightly. He noted, however, that her face was losing its soft
+curves and rose tints. Celia was another of his favorites, and he knew she
+was having her battle with misfortune, meeting it as bravely as a young
+woman could. Thomas Gilpin might so easily have smoothed the way for her.
+The spinet was an interesting heirloom, no doubt, but would not help Celia
+solve the problem of bread and butter.
+
+The shop of the cabinet-maker was just off Main Street, at the foot of the
+hill. To its original two rooms he had added two more, and here he lived
+with no companions but a striped cat and a curly dog, who endured each
+other and shared the affection of their master.
+
+Morgan's housekeeping was not burdensome. Certain of his neighbors always
+remembered him on baking day, and his tastes were simple. His shop opened
+immediately on the street; back of it was his living room and the small
+garden where he cultivated the gayest blooms. The living room had an open
+fireplace, for it was one of the cabinet-maker's pleasures to sit in the
+firelight when the work of the day was over, and a small oil stove
+sufficed for his cooking. On one side of the chimney was a high-backed
+settle, and above it a book shelf. Like most Scotch boys, he had had a
+fair education, and possessed a genuine reverence for books and a love of
+reading. In the opposite corner was an ancient mahogany desk where he kept
+his accounts, and near by in the window a shelf always full of plants in
+the winter. A cupboard of his own manufacture, a table, a lamp, and an
+arm-chair completed the furniture of the room. The walls he had painted a
+dull red, and over the fireplace in fanciful letters had traced this
+motto: "Good in everything."
+
+To this cheerful belief Morgan held firmly, although there were times like
+this morning, when coming out of the sunlight and feeling a little weary,
+he noticed that the walls were growing dingy and the motto dim, and sighed
+to think how hard it was to see the good in some things.
+
+He placed a paper in the old secretary and was turning toward the shop
+when he stopped short in amazement, for in the doorway stood Rosalind, her
+face full of eagerness. Behind her was Miss Herbert, whom Morgan entirely
+overlooked in his pleasure at seeing Mr. Pat's little girl again.
+
+He shook hands warmly and offered the arm-chair, but Rosalind had no
+thought of sitting down. As she gazed with bright-eyed interest around the
+room, her glance fell on the motto, and she pointed to it and then to
+herself.
+
+The cabinet-maker was puzzled. "Is it your motto?" he asked.
+
+She nodded brightly.
+
+Morgan turned to the shelf, took down a large volume of Shakespeare's
+plays, and laying it on the table began to turn the pages rapidly.
+Rosalind looked over his arm. He ran his finger down a leaf presently and
+pointed to the line. "There," he said.
+
+Rosalind turned back a page and pointed to her own name, and then they
+both laughed as if it were a great coincidence.
+
+A sharp tap on his arm made Miss Herbert's presence known to Morgan. Miss
+Herbert was not of Friendship. She knew the value of time if the
+cabinet-maker did not, and had no idea of waiting while he discussed
+Shakespeare in pantomime with Rosalind.
+
+Miss Herbert with the aid of the tablet, and Morgan with many queer
+gestures to help out his faltering tongue, so long without the guide of
+hearing, contrived to despatch the business relating to a claw-footed
+sofa. When it was finished, Rosalind was missing, and was discovered in
+the little garden, making friends with the black poodle, while the striped
+cat looked on from the fence.
+
+It was with evident reluctance she accompanied Miss Herbert to the
+carriage. Before she left she took the tablet and wrote, "I am going to
+learn to talk on my fingers."
+
+"Good," the cabinet-maker answered, and he followed them to the street,
+smiling and nodding. "Come again," he called as they drove away.
+
+When he returned to the shop, the world seemed brighter, the mist of doubt
+had lifted.
+
+"The rough places can't last always," he told himself as he sandpapered
+the claw toes of the sofa. "We are certain to come to a turn in the lane
+after a while. There's good in everything, somewhere."
+
+Perhaps the coming of Mr. Pat's little girl was a good omen. To him at
+least it was a most interesting event, nor was he the only person in
+Friendship who found it so.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FOURTH.
+
+AN UNQUIET MORNING.
+
+"You amaze me, ladies."
+
+
+Farther up the street on the other side, but within sight of the
+Whittredges', was Mrs. Graham's Boarding and Day School for Young Ladies.
+
+The broad, one story and a half mansion, with rooms enough for a small
+hotel, was still known as the Bishop place, although nearly twenty years
+had passed since the little brown and white house on Church Street had
+opened its doors to Miss Betty and her invalid father, and to such of the
+massive furniture as could be accommodated within its walls. In her
+circular Mrs. Graham was careful to state that her school was commodiously
+housed in the mansion of the late distinguished Senator Charlton H.
+Bishop, and many a daughter groaned over her algebra or French verbs in
+the very room where her mother or grandmother before her had fleeted the
+time carelessly in evenings long past, for brilliant was the tradition of
+the Bishop hospitality.
+
+Celia Fair, who taught drawing in the school, and on occasion kept study
+hour in what had once been the long drawing-room, had a fancy that the
+spirit of those days was responsible for many an outburst of mischief. At
+present Mrs. Graham's pupils were in a fever of curiosity over the new
+arrival at the Whittredges'.
+
+The Whittredge place had been invested by them with something of a halo of
+romance, founded chiefly on the seclusion In which it pleased Mrs.
+Whittredge to live. Bits of gossip let fall by their elders were eagerly
+treasured; it became the fashion, to rave over the beauty of the haughty
+Miss Genevieve, and even her brother who was not haughty, but quite like
+other people, was allowed a share of the halo on account of his connection
+with the lost ring, made famous by the contested will.
+
+Katherine Roberts, returning to school after several days' absence, found
+herself unusually popular. Katherine lived next door to the unknown; she
+had seen her; it was even said she had heard her speak. Excitement grew
+as the news spread.
+
+The girls were standing in groups on the porch and steps, laughing and
+talking together, and at sight of Katherine gave her an uproarious
+greeting.
+
+Round, rosy-faced, blue-eyed Katherine, with her brown hair in two tight
+plaits turned under and tied with a ribbon behind her ears, was a little
+abashed at the attention she excited.
+
+"What is she like, Katherine? tell us--the new girl at the Whittredges'."
+
+"She is standing at the gate now," answered Katherine, looking over her
+shoulder.
+
+"Is she? Oh, where?"
+
+"Let's walk by and see her."
+
+"We'll be tardy if we do, and at any rate there is the carriage; perhaps
+they will drive past."
+
+"Look! there's Miss Genevieve. No, they are going the other way."
+
+"What are you staring at?" demanded Belle Parton, joining the group. Belle
+was a gypsy-looking girl with merry black eyes, and hair that refused to
+be smooth like Katherine's, but continually fell in her eyes. As she spoke
+she put her hat on the step and proceeded to adjust the round comb she
+wore.
+
+"The Whittredge girl. Have you seen her, Belle?" asked Charlotte Ellis.
+
+"No; what is she like?"
+
+"Katherine is the only one who has seen her; she says she is lovely."
+
+"Oh, she is! You ought to see her, Belle. Maurice and I peeped through the
+hedge and saw her walking to and fro studying something. And her name is
+Rosalind. Isn't that a beautiful name?"
+
+"I don't believe she is much," Belle announced, with a turn of her head.
+The only reason she had for saying this was the naughty one of wishing to
+snub Katherine, who took everything in earnest and now looked crestfallen.
+
+"Never mind, Kit; tell us some more about her," urged one of the others.
+
+"Grandmamma says she is surprised at Mrs. Whittredge's having her here.
+You know she would have nothing to do with her son after he married, until
+lately, and she never saw her granddaughter before, I think family
+quarrels are awfully interesting; don't you?" As Charlotte spoke, the
+bell rang, and the girls turned toward the house.
+
+"Do you, Charlotte?" exclaimed Katherine, who was accustomed to pin her
+faith to her friend's opinions, but thought that quarrels being wrong
+could not be interesting.
+
+"I think so, too. They are so delightfully mysterious," echoed another of
+the girls.
+
+"Nonsense! What is there that is mysterious?" put in pugnacious Belle.
+
+It may have been the alluring summer day, or the fact that it was near the
+end of the term, and discipline had relaxed, but certain it was that a
+general restlessness and inclination to whisper pervaded the study hour.
+It was the fashion among the girls to adore Celia. Fair, and usually she
+had no difficulty in keeping order, but this morning even her presence was
+without effect.
+
+Belle Parton had her history propped up before her in a way that suggested
+some mischief going on behind its shelter, rather than any serious study.
+Katherine, who was honestly trying to study, was distracted by the signals
+flying around her. Charlotte Ellis, whose seat was near the window,
+seemed principally occupied in peeping between the sash curtains.
+
+Celia had looked up for the second time to say, "Girls, I must have better
+order," and things had for several minutes quieted down, when Charlotte
+suddenly announced in a loud whisper, "Here they come!" and with that
+there was a rush for the windows.
+
+The cause of the excitement was of course the Whittredge carriage, but all
+anybody caught was a fleeting glimpse of a white dress beside Miss
+Genevieve's black one, and, as luck would have it, Mrs. Graham opened the
+door just in time to witness the scramble for a view.
+
+"Young ladies, you amaze me! What is the meaning of this?" she demanded,
+as the girls, half of whom had rushed because the others had, returned
+abashed to their seats.
+
+"I never knew them to behave so before," said Celia, in apology.
+"Something seems to be wrong to-day."
+
+"Wrong, indeed," repeated Mrs. Graham, who was a person of somewhat
+majestic appearance. Then her glance fell on Belle's desk. "And this
+explains the rapid disappearance of my chalk!" she added, holding up to
+view a pen tray on which were arranged a number of tiny goblets and dishes
+neatly cut out of chalk.
+
+Katherine, who had not left her seat, laughed nervously. She stood in
+great awe of the principal, and she did not in the least wish to laugh.
+
+Mrs. Graham looked at her sternly, "One mark in deportment, Katherine, and
+three to those who left their desks, and you will all spend your recess
+indoors. Belle, I will see you in the office."
+
+Belle followed Mrs. Graham, with her head held high, her lips pursed up
+saucily, her black eyes snapping. Katherine, through her own tear-filled
+ones, watched her in astonishment.
+
+When Belle returned study hour was over, and the culprits who were
+condemned to stay indoors had grouped themselves beside the window.
+
+"What did she do to you, Belle?" they cried.
+
+"Nothing,--just talked. She said it was wasting time and chalk, and that
+it wasn't honest. Such a fuss about a little chalk!"
+
+Celia Fair, who had her hat on, ready to go home, came behind Belle, and
+with a hand on either side of her face she lifted it till the saucy eyes
+looked into her own. "Does that make any difference, really--because it is
+just chalk?" she asked.
+
+Belle wriggled out of her hands, only to clasp her around the waist. "I
+wouldn't take your chalk," she said, laughing.
+
+"I don't know what to think of you to-day," Miss Fair continued, looking
+around the group. "I am afraid Mrs. Graham will not trust me to keep study
+hour after this."
+
+There was a general cry of, "Oh, Miss Celia, why not?"
+
+"Do you think she can have a high opinion of my ability to keep order?"
+
+"But no one else could do any better."
+
+"If Mrs. Graham had been here, you would not have rushed to the window, I
+know very well."
+
+"But we are so much fonder of you, Miss Celia," urged Charlotte.
+
+"If that is the case I'd like you to show it by behaving," said Celia, as
+she left the room.
+
+When Belle told at home about the day's occurrences, her father laughed.
+
+"I shall tell Mrs. Graham she must introduce manual training. 'Satan finds
+some mischief still,' you see. Maybe Belle will turn out a famous
+sculptor."
+
+"At any rate, colonel, you ought not to encourage her in such pranks,"
+Mrs. Parton remarked, shaking her head at her husband, who never saw
+anything to criticise in the one little daughter among his five boys.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FIFTH.
+
+MAURICE.
+
+"The stubbornness of fortune."
+
+
+It was the first of the month, and a steady stream of people passed in and
+out of the bank. Maurice sat on the steps leading up to the private
+entrance, and with few exceptions each new-comer had a pleasant greeting
+or kindly inquiry for him.
+
+Miss Betty Bishop rustling out, bank book in hand, called, "How are you,
+Maurice? When are you and Katherine coming to take tea with me? Let me
+know and I'll have waffles."
+
+The cabinet-maker came to the foot of the steps to ask about the lame
+knee, and shook his head in sympathy with Maurice's doleful face.
+
+Colonel Parton, a tall, gray-mustached man, accompanied by two hunting
+dogs, hailed him: "Not going with the boys? Ah, I forgot your knee. Too
+bad! Jack's got the dandiest new fishing-rod you ever saw."
+
+"As if I didn't know it," growled Maurice, us the colonel entered the
+bank.
+
+The next person to accost him was Miss Celia Fair. She hadn't any bank
+business, but seeing Maurice as she passed, stopped to speak to him. She
+sat down beside him and tried in her pretty, soft way to cheer him.
+
+"Don't look so gloomy, dear; you know if you are careful you will soon be
+all right again," she said.
+
+At this Maurice poured forth all his disappointment at not being able to
+go with the Parton boys on their excursion down the bay.
+
+"I am just as sorry for you as I can be," said Celia, clasping her hands
+in her lap--such slender hands--and looking far away as if she were tired
+of everything near by. It was only for a moment, then she said with a
+little laugh, "You can't possibly understand, Maurice, but I shouldn't
+mind a sprained knee in the least; I think I could even enjoy it, if I
+hadn't any more responsibility than you have."
+
+"But you don't care to go fishing," he suggested.
+
+"Oh, yes, I do; I like to fish." With a smile she said good-by, and went
+away.
+
+After this Maurice settled down into deeper despondency than before. He
+had refused an invitation to drive, hid treated with bitter scorn
+Katherine's suggestion that he might like to go out to the creek with her
+and Blossom. "You could ride in the stage, you know, and have to walk only
+the least little bit," she said.
+
+"Thank you; it is _such_ fun to throw stones in the water," he replied,
+with elaborate politeness.
+
+That Maurice was badly spoiled was no secret. The only boy in the family,
+with bright, engaging ways when things went to please him, he had been
+petted and humored by his parents, given up to by Katherine, and treated
+as a leader by his boy friends, until he had come to look upon his own
+pleasure as the most important thing in the universe. Not that he realized
+this. He would have been greatly surprised to hear he was selfish.
+
+The accident by which his knee had been sprained severely was an
+experience as trying as it was new to him. At first the petting he
+received at home, and the attentions of his friends, added to his sense of
+importance and made it endurable, but this could not continue
+indefinitely. Ball playing and other sports must go on, and Maurice, to
+his aggrieved surprise, found they could go on very well without him.
+
+This morning his mother had expostulated mildly. "My son, you ought not to
+make yourself so miserable. You could not be more unhappy if you were to
+be lame always."
+
+"It is _now_ I care about," he replied petulantly.
+
+"I don't know what to do with Maurice," he overheard her say to his father
+in the hall.
+
+"Let him alone. I am ashamed of him," was Mr. Roberts's reply.
+
+And now, deserted and abused, Maurice was very miserable, and when he
+could stand it no longer he sought a distant spot in the garden and threw
+himself face down in the grass.
+
+He had been lying here some time when a voice apparently quite near asked,
+"Have you hurt yourself?"
+
+Lifting his flushed, unhappy face, he saw peeping at him through the hedge
+the girl Katherine had been so interested in on Sunday. She, too, was
+lying on the grass, and her fair hair was spread out around her like a
+veil. Maurice raised himself on his elbow and surveyed her in surprise,
+forgetting to reply.
+
+"What is the matter?" she asked again, looking at him with a pair of
+serious gray eyes.
+
+"Nothing," he answered.
+
+The gray eyes grew merry. Rosalind laughed, as she said, "Then you ought
+not to groan. I thought when I heard you, perhaps you had fallen from a
+tree."
+
+"I wasn't groaning," he protested, feeling ashamed.
+
+"Maybe you call it sighing, but it was dreadfully deep."
+
+"Well, I think a fellow has a right to sigh when he can't do anything or
+go anywhere; and everybody else is having a good time," Maurice felt
+anxious to vindicate himself.
+
+"I am not having a good time," said Rosalind, "at least not very; but then
+you know if you stay in the Forest of Arden, something pleasant is bound
+to happen before long."
+
+Maurice stared at her blankly.
+
+"Perhaps you don't know the story," Rosalind suggested.
+
+"What story?"
+
+"Its real name is 'As You Like It,' but I call it 'The Story of the
+Forest.'"
+
+"What is it about?"
+
+"Oh,--about a banished duke, who lived in the Forest, like Robin Hood, you
+know, with a lot of people who were fond of him. He had a daughter, named
+Rosalind, and after a while she was banished too and went to look for her
+father in the Forest. Her cousin Celia and a funny clown, Touchstone, went
+with her, and they were all disguised. And--well, there is a great deal
+more to it--but they were all cheerful and brave--everybody is in the
+Forest of Arden, because they are sure there is good in everything if you
+only try to find it."
+
+"But that is all a story. It isn't true."
+
+"Oh, yes, it is."
+
+"There wasn't a bit of good in hurting my knee and having the whole summer
+spoiled." Maurice's tone was undeniably fretful.
+
+"If you had been banished as Rosalind was, I suppose you would not have
+thought there was any good in that; but she didn't cry about it. She made
+the best of it, and had a good time in spite of it."
+
+"Who says I was crying?" Maurice demanded angrily.
+
+Rosalind opened her gray eyes wide, then she sat up and tossed back her
+hair. Maurice felt convicted of rudeness. Was she going? He hoped not, for
+he wished to talk to her.
+
+"I suppose I am rather cross," he acknowledged; "but don't you think it is
+pretty hard to hurt your knee and have to walk with a crutch, and stay at
+home when the other boys go fishing?"
+
+"Yes, indeed. Does it hurt much?" Rosalind asked, with ready sympathy.
+
+"No, not now; it did at first, but the doctor says it will be five or six
+months before it is well again."
+
+"Then it isn't for always? That is something good."
+
+Maurice somehow felt uncomfortable. He did not wish the emphasis laid on
+the good. It seemed wise to change the subject. "What a lot of hair you
+have," he remarked.
+
+"It has been washed, and grandmamma said I might dry it in the sun,"
+Rosalind explained, shaking her head so vigorously she was enveloped in a
+shining cloud.
+
+"Isn't it a great bother? Kit hates to have hers braided."
+
+"Who is Kit?"
+
+"She is my sister Katherine."
+
+"It must be nice to have a sister. I haven't anybody but father and Cousin
+Louis, and of course they are better than any one else. There are
+grandmamma and Aunt Genevieve, but I am not very well acquainted with them
+yet. I should love to have some children related to me."
+
+I have a little sister, too; her name is Blossom. That is, her real name
+is Mary, and we call her Blossom."
+
+"Kit and Blossom; and what is your name?" Rosalind asked.
+
+"Maurice Roberts."
+
+Rosalind tossed back her hair and began to twist it into a shining rope.
+"I am Rosalind Whittredge," she said. "I should not think you would ever
+be unhappy," she added.
+
+"Do you know, I saw you last Sunday when you were studying something. Kit
+and I peeped at you through the hedge."
+
+"I was learning a hymn for grandmamma. Why didn't you speak to me?"
+
+"I didn't know whether you'd like it."
+
+"Why, of course I should have liked it. I was beginning to think that day
+I should never get acquainted with any one, and I was feeling dreadfully
+lonesome when the magician came in."
+
+"The magician?" Maurice exclaimed. Certainly this was a singular girl who
+talked about magicians in an everyday tone.
+
+Rosalind laughed. "I mean Morgan, who does cabinet work. Do you know him?"
+
+"Everybody in Friendship knows Morgan. He is a good fellow, too. Why do
+you call him the magician?"
+
+"Because that is what father called him when he was a little boy. Once
+when Morgan had made an old desk look like new, grandfather said he was a
+magician, and father, who heard him, thought he meant it really. Father
+and Uncle Allan used to play in his shop and talk on their fingers to him.
+Can you do that?"
+
+"Why, yes; I'll teach you if you like."
+
+"I should like it very much. It is so tiresome to write things."
+
+"Morgan is very clever, too, about understanding. You only begin to spell
+a word when he guesses what you want to say," Maurice added.
+
+"I went to his shop the other day with Miss Herbert, but she wouldn't let
+me stay long. I made friends with his funny dog."
+
+"Do you know what we call him? Curly Q. And the cat--did you see him? He
+is Crisscross."
+
+"How funny," said Rosalind. "I think they are very good names. Crisscross
+wouldn't have anything to do with me."
+
+"Are you going to live here?" Maurice asked.
+
+"No; but I shall be here a long time. I think Friendship is a nice place,
+and funny too, because it has a bank with a garden around it. At home our
+banks are all on the street and have offices over them."
+
+"Yes; Friendship isn't a city," Maurice acknowledged apologetically. "I
+should like to live in a big city."
+
+"I like Friendship. It only seems a little odd, you know," Rosalind
+hastened to add. "Do they ever let you go into the bank part of your
+house?"
+
+"Why, of course, I can go in whenever I choose. My father is the cashier,
+and it is to take care of the bank that we live here."
+
+The conversation was brought to an end by a maid sent to find Rosalind.
+After she had gone Maurice saw a book on the grass where she had been
+lying, and reaching through the hedge with his crutch, he drew it toward
+him. When he removed the outside cover, even his uncritical eye saw it was
+a handsome hook. "Shakespeare's 'As You Like It.' Edited by Louis A.
+Sargent," he read. "Why, it is one of Shakespeare's plays," he said, in
+surprise. So this was the story Rosalind was talking about.
+
+On the fly-leaf was some writing in small clear letters. "For Rosalind,
+with the wish that she may meet the hard things of life as bravely, and
+find as much happiness by the way, as did her namesake in the Forest of
+Arden. From her friend, Louis A. Sargent."
+
+"Meet the hard things of life as bravely--" Maurice's face grew hot. "You
+wouldn't have thought there was any good in that." The touch of scorn in
+Rosalind's tone stung as he recalled it. He turned the leaves and began to
+read.
+
+It was a pleasure to look at the large clear type; he soon became
+interested.
+
+Half an hour later Katherine's voice broke in upon the Forest of Arden.
+"Maurice, Maurice, what are you doing? Mother sent me to find you."
+
+"I am reading. Don't bother, please," was the reply, in a tone so far
+removed from melancholy that Katherine, reassured, obediently retired.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER SIXTH.
+
+PUZZLES.
+
+"How weary are my spirits!"
+
+
+Up to this time life had been a simple and joyous matter to Rosalind. She
+had known her own small trials and perplexities, but her father or Cousin
+Louis were always at hand to smooth out tangles and show her how to be
+merry over difficulties. Now all was different. There were puzzles on
+every side and no one to turn to.
+
+The house behind the griffins was not exactly a cheerful place. Rosalind
+found herself stealing about on tiptoe lest she disturb the silence of the
+spacious rooms. She hardly ventured to more than peep into the
+drawing-room, where Miss Herbert's liking for twilight effects had full
+sway. There was a pier table here, supported by griffins, the counterpart
+in feature of those on the doorstep, which she longed to examine, but the
+shades were always drawn and the handsome draperies of damask and lace
+hung in such perfect folds she dared not disturb them.
+
+Where was the charm of her father's stories of Friendship? Was it because
+her grandfather was dead that everything had changed? This was why her
+grandmother wore black dresses and added that heavy veil when she went
+out. Rosalind once drew a corner of it over her own face and the gloom
+appalled her.
+
+She ventured to say one day as they drove along a pleasant country road,
+"Grandmamma, you don't know how bright the sunshine is," and Mrs.
+Whittredge replied, "I do not wish to know, Rosalind; nothing can ever
+again be bright to me." Yet if she would only look, she must see that it
+was bright. This was one puzzle.
+
+Aunt Genevieve's manner was another. It was as if she scorned everything,
+and sometimes it made Rosalind almost angry.
+
+On the day of her meeting with Maurice, she ate her lunch with a glance
+every few minutes at her great-uncle Allan on the opposite wall. A very
+black portrait, it seemed only a meaningless blur till in a certain light
+the strong face and stern eyes shone out of the surrounding gloom with
+startling effect. She sometimes wondered rather anxiously if the uncle to
+whose home-coming she looked forward, could by any possibility be like the
+person for whom he was named. It was not an agreeable face, yet it drew
+her gaze with an irresistible attraction. She was convinced that on
+occasion the heavy brows contracted and the eyes grew even sterner.
+
+In the next panel hung Matilda, his wife, as the massive marble in the
+cemetery said,--a youthful person with side curls and a comfortable smile.
+
+Even with its southern windows the dining room was sombre in its massive
+furnishings of Flemish oak. Very different from the one at home, with its
+sunshine and flowers, its overflow of books from the study, and the odds
+and ends of pottery picked up by father and Cousin Louis in their travels.
+
+Rosalind was thinking that the plain little room of the magician was the
+pleasantest place she knew in Friendship, when Martin entered with
+something in his hand, announcing in his courtly way, "A book for Miss
+Rosalind." It seemed to her that Martin, with his grizzled head and dusky
+face, had the most beautiful manners ever seen.
+
+"For me, Martin?" she exclaimed.
+
+"The young gentleman from next door left it," said Martin.
+
+"I did not know you knew any one next door, Rosalind," Mrs. Whittredge
+remarked questioningly.
+
+"I am not very well acquainted, grandmamma," Rosalind answered, seeing
+suddenly in the handsome face a likeness to the dark portrait; "but I
+talked to Maurice through the hedge this morning. I remember now, I had my
+book. I must have left it on the grass."
+
+"I believe Rosalind seldom loses an opportunity to speak to people. Miss
+Herbert says she is on quite intimate terms with Morgan," remarked Miss
+Genevieve.
+
+"Father told me about Morgan," Rosalind began apologetically, adding more
+confidently, "I like to know people."
+
+"Your father over again," Mrs. Whittredge said, smiling. "What is your
+book, dear?"
+
+"'As You Like It.' Cousin Louis gave it to me." As she spoke Rosalind
+caught the glance exchanged by her grandmother and aunt.
+
+"When I was a little girl Cousin Louis told me the story because it is
+about Rosalind, you know, and ever since I have called it my story,
+because I like it best of all."
+
+No comment was made on this explanation, and it seemed to her the next
+time she looked in his direction, that Uncle Allan frowned.
+
+When luncheon was over she went out to the garden seat under the birch,
+carrying with her an old green speller found in a bookcase upstairs. In
+the back of it she had discovered the deaf and dumb alphabet, so now she
+would not have to wait for Maurice to teach her; she could learn it by
+herself. It did not seem difficult. With the spelling book propped open in
+one corner of the bench she went carefully over it, and then tried to
+think of words she was most likely to want to use in talking with Morgan;
+but this was slower work, and the thought that for some unknown reason her
+grandmother was displeased with her kept claiming her attention.
+
+When father was displeased with her--and this was not often--he always
+told her, and they talked it over frankly, but grandmamma and Aunt
+Genevieve only looked at each other and said nothing. It both puzzled her
+and hurt her dignity to be treated in this way.
+
+Presently it occurred to her that her grandmother might have been vexed at
+her carelessness in leaving her book on the grass. It was careless; father
+would have said so. Well, she could let grandmamma know she was sorry, and
+feeling relieved at having found a possible solution of the problem, she
+closed the spelling book.
+
+Mrs. Whittredge looked up in evident surprise when Rosalind entered the
+room and announced, "I am sorry I left my book on the grass, grandmamma."
+
+"What do you mean, my dear?" she asked.
+
+"I thought you didn't like it because I was careless."
+
+"I suppose it was careless, my pet, but I had not thought of it. But tell
+me what makes you care so much for that book. It seems to me there are
+many stories that would be more interesting to a little girl. Suppose you
+put it away and let me find you something else."
+
+The color deepened in Rosalind's face. "It is my own, own book," she
+cried, clasping it to her heart.
+
+"Very well, you need not be tragic about it," Mrs. Whittredge said coldly,
+turning to her writing.
+
+Again Rosalind knew she had offended, and this time her resentment was
+aroused. "I don't like to be spoken to in that way," she told herself, as
+she walked from the room.
+
+Before she had reached the head of the stairs her grandmother's voice
+called her hack. Reluctantly she returned.
+
+Mrs. Whittredge had risen and now came to meet her and put her arm around
+her, and her voice was soft and full of affection as she asked, "Do you
+want to go to the cemetery with me this afternoon, pet? Aunt Genevieve has
+the carriage, and I think a walk will do me good."
+
+The walk along the shady street and through the grassy lane to the gate at
+the foot of the hill was as pleasant as a walk could be that summer day.
+Rosalind kept sedately by her grandmother's side, and the face under the
+drooping hat was grave. Behind them walked Martin with some garden tools
+and a watering-pot.
+
+The serious eyes brightened, and the lips curved into a smile at sight of
+Maurice and Katherine playing dominos under the maple. How lovely it must
+be to have a brother or sister to play with and talk to!
+
+The cemetery was not new to Rosalind, for Mrs. Whittredge on her daily
+drive usually stopped there, and its winding paths and green slopes, its
+drooping willows and graceful oaks, and the flowers that bloomed
+everywhere, around the stately shafts of marble and the low headstones,
+seemed to her very pleasant. Here, however, her grandmother's sadness took
+on a deeper tinge as she moved among the mounds that lay in the shadow of
+the massive granite monument with "Whittredge" in letters of bronze at its
+base.
+
+As Martin went to work trimming the ivy under his mistress's direction,
+Rosalind wandered away by herself across the hill-top, pausing now and
+then to read an inscription and do a sum in subtraction, on the result of
+which her interest largely depended. "Lily, born 1878, died 1888," stirred
+her imagination, and she sat down to consider it at length. How old would
+Lily be now if she had lived? She tried to think how her own name would
+look on a stone. It was still and peaceful on that sunny hillside; it
+reminded her of "Sharon's lovely rose." The idea of a grave here was not
+unattractive. She was considering it pensively when her eyes fell on a
+long-stemmed, creamy rose, lying not far from her on the ground. With
+instant pleasure in its beauty she took it up and held it against her
+cheek.
+
+Where had it come from? Some one must have dropped it. She stood up and
+looked around, but there was no one in sight. On the other side of a holly
+bush, however, a number of just such roses lay on a grave. Rosalind walked
+over and stooped to read the name on the low headstone. "Robert Ellis
+Fair," she repeated half aloud as she laid her rose beside the others.
+
+When she lifted her head she met the surprised gaze of a young lady, who
+came across the grass with a watering-pot in her hand. She was decidedly
+pretty to look at, and she smiled pleasantly as she began watering the
+flowers in an iron vase.
+
+Rosalind felt she must explain, so she said, smiling in her turn, "I found
+a rose on the grass, and I thought it must belong here."
+
+"Thank you. I suppose I dropped it. Won't you tell me who you are? I am
+sure you do not live in Friendship."
+
+"No, I am visiting my grandmother. I am Rosalind Whittredge."
+
+A strange expression crossed the face of the young lady at this
+announcement. Could it be that something displeased her? After a moment
+she spoke gravely, "I think some one is looking for you," she said.
+
+Turning, Rosalind saw Martin in the distance, and as there seemed nothing
+else to do or say, she walked away. After she had gone some little
+distance she could not resist looking back, and just as she did so she saw
+the young lady fling something from her across the grass, and--it looked
+like a rose! Could it be her rose? Rosalind felt her cheeks growing hot.
+How very strange! Here was a puzzle, indeed.
+
+Aunt Genevieve had come for them in the carriage, and as they drove home
+Rosalind tried to describe the young lady she had seen, saying nothing
+about the rose, however.
+
+"It must have been Celia Fair, mamma, don't you think so?" asked
+Genevieve.
+
+"Fair was the name on the stone," said Rosalind, adding, "She was pretty."
+
+Miss Whittredge looked at her mother, then as that lady was silent, she
+remarked, in her usual languid tone, "I think you may as well know,
+Rosalind, that we have nothing to do with the Fairs."
+
+Why did it make any difference to Rosalind? Why did everything seem wrong?
+Why did she feel so unhappy in spite of the blue sky and the sweet summer
+air?
+
+When they reached home she sat on the garden bench and looked up at the
+griffins, and the fancy floated through her mind that it might be
+comfortable to be as unfeeling as they.
+
+"O, dear! I am afraid I am getting out of the Forest. What shall I do?
+Perhaps the magician could help me;" she clasped her hands at the
+thought. Why not go to see him? She knew the way.
+
+"I will take my book to show him," she said; and running to the house for
+it, forgetful of everything but her longing for sympathy, a few minutes
+later she flitted down the driveway and out of the gate.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER SEVENTH.
+
+THE MAGICIAN MAKES TEA.
+
+                "--If that love or gold
+    Can in this place buy entertainment,
+    Bring us where we may rest ourselves and feed;
+    Here's a young maid with travel much oppress'd
+    And faints for succour."
+
+
+The magician was at work in his small garden adjusting some wire netting
+for the sweet peas, while Curly Q. looked on with interest, and Crisscross
+finished his saucer of milk.
+
+Rosalind came through the shop so softly that only the cat was aware of
+it. He gazed at her in evident doubt whether to continue work on the rim
+of his saucer or take refuge on the fence.
+
+"I should like to have a little house, and a dog and cat to live with me,"
+she thought, sitting down on the step to wait till she should be
+observed. Yes, this was more like the Forest of Arden than any place she
+knew; her unhappiness seemed melting away in the peaceful atmosphere.
+
+Crisscross decided she was not dangerous, and keeping an eye on her by way
+of precaution went on with his supper. It was not long, however, before
+Curly Q. discovered her presence and came bounding to her side, with a
+sharp bark of welcome, then back to call his master's attention.
+
+"Why! Why!" exclaimed the magician, holding up a pair of rather grimy
+hands.
+
+There could be no doubt about his being glad to see Rosalind. He asked how
+she was, over and over, and apologized for his hands, and smiled and
+nodded and indulged in all sorts of absurd gestures, which made her laugh
+so she couldn't try her new accomplishment of talking on her fingers.
+Directly he hurried into the house, where she could hear him washing his
+hands, and then he came out again with a teakettle, which he filled at the
+cistern, and carrying it back set it on a small oil stove, which he
+lighted.
+
+"We'll have some tea," he said, sitting down beside her and asking again
+how she was.
+
+Rosalind summoned all her learning and spelled out carefully, with the aid
+of some very dainty fingers, "I-am-lon--"
+
+"Lonesome?" repeated the magician. "That is too bad. Mr. Pat wouldn't like
+that."
+
+Rosalind shook her head. The tears were near the surface, but she kept
+them back, and remembering her book she laid it on the magician's knee,
+open at the words Cousin Louis had written: "If we choose we may travel
+always in the Forest where the birds sing and the sunlight sifts through
+the trees; where although we sometimes grow footsore and hungry we know
+that the goal is sure. Just outside is the dreary desert in which, alas!
+many choose to walk, shutting their eyes to the beauty and peace of the
+Forest, and losing by the way the sacred gift of happiness."
+
+The magician read it slowly through, then he smiled at Rosalind over his
+glasses. "That's so," he said. "It is hard to keep out of the desert
+sometimes, but it all comes right in the end. Why, the other day I was--"
+here he shook his head and put on a woe-begone expression of countenance
+that made his meaning plain, and caused Rosalind to laugh--"and I looked
+up and there you stood in the door and pointed to the motto, 'Good in
+everything,' and I felt better."
+
+"Did I really cheer you up?" cried Rosalind, delighted; and nodding quite
+as if he heard, the magician answered, "Now I'll cheer you up." Rising, he
+beckoned her to follow him inside, and she obeyed, feeling as if she were
+somebody in a story.
+
+The kettle was already singing merrily, and from a shelf the magician took
+down a fat little teapot and, rinsing it with boiling water, proceeded to
+make tea. Next he spread a white cloth on a small table, and from the
+cupboard took out some blue and white cups and plates.
+
+"Let me set it," begged Rosalind, in pantomime, entering gayly into the
+spirit of the thing.
+
+Laughing, the magician left it to her and went off to his store-room, from
+which he emerged with a pitcher of milk and a loaf of brown bread.
+
+There was nothing in the appointments of this simple meal to offend the
+most fastidious taste, and it was a sight to bring a smile to the
+dolefulest countenance, to see Rosalind and the magician sitting opposite
+to each other drinking tea. In the midst of it Morgan jumped up and went
+to the store-room, returning with a tumbler of jelly. "Miss Betty Bishop's
+jelly," he said. "Do you know Miss Betty?"
+
+Rosalind shook her head.
+
+"She makes good things," he added, as he unscrewed the top.
+
+Rosalind's afternoon in the open air had given her an appetite, and she
+did full justice to the brown bread and jelly, the novelty of the occasion
+adding a flavor. Through the open door and window came the glow of the
+sunset, and the air was sweet with some far-off fragrance. All trouble had
+faded from her face; it was as if in the heart of the Forest she had come
+upon some friendly inn. Such a small matter as dinner in the house behind
+the griffins quite escaped her memory.
+
+"Well, upon my word!"
+
+[Illustration: "DO YOU KNOW MISS BETTY?"]
+
+Startled in the act of feeding Curly Q., Rosalind looked toward the door,
+and saw there a lady in a crisp, light muslin. More than this she did
+not at once take in, for behind her in the semi-darkness of the shop was
+Martin's face. The conviction that he was looking for her, and that
+grandmamma would be vexed, overshadowed everything else. She rose, while
+the magician greeted the lady as Miss Betty, and offered her a cup of tea.
+
+"I'se been searchin' high and low for you, Miss Rosalind," Martin
+exclaimed, coming forward.
+
+"I'm dreadfully sorry, Martin; I forgot," said Rosalind.
+
+Miss Betty, who had declined the tea, now held out her hand. "This is
+Rosalind Whittredge, of course; I am your Cousin Betty."
+
+"I didn't know I had any cousins," said Rosalind.
+
+"You will find a few if you stay long enough," replied Miss Betty. "How do
+you come to be eating supper with Morgan, I'd like to know? I was sitting
+on my porch when you went in, so when Martin came along I was able to help
+him."
+
+"I like Morgan. I wanted to see him. Father told me about him." Rosalind
+felt she couldn't explain exactly.
+
+"I used to know your father very well indeed," said Miss Betty, as they
+walked together to the street, after Rosalind had told the magician
+good-by. "As you seem to like going out to tea, I hope you will come and
+take supper with me sometime," she added, with a twinkle in her eye.
+
+When she reached home Miss Herbert stood at the gate, and in the door was
+Mrs. Whittredge. Rosalind's face was full of brightness as she ran up the
+path.
+
+"Grandmamma, I meant only to stay a minute, and then I forgot."
+
+"I have been worried about you, Rosalind," Mrs. Whittredge said gravely.
+"Why did you not come to me and tell me where you wished to go? Where have
+you been?"
+
+"To see the magician--Morgan, I mean. I wanted so much to see him I did
+not think of anything else."
+
+"Why did you wish to see him?" continued her grandmother.
+
+The glow was fading from Rosalind's face. "Because--" she hesitated,
+"because--"
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Because I was lonely, grandmamma, and I was afraid I was going to cry. I
+promised father I would be brave, and--well--Morgan knows about the
+Forest, and is very good to cheer you up. He made tea in the dearest
+little teapot, and it was so amusing, I forgot. I am sorry."
+
+"Do you mean you took supper with Morgan? Well, Rosalind, you are
+amazing!" Aunt Genevieve spoke from the hall.
+
+"Never mind, Genevieve," said her mother. "I am sorry you were lonely,
+Rosalind, but I do not understand why you should go to Morgan. And what do
+you mean by the 'forest'?"
+
+Rosalind's face was grave again. "I don't know, grandmamma," she faltered,
+and indeed she could not have told if her life had depended on it.
+
+"I think you were very easy on her, mamma. It was certainly naughty of her
+to run away," Genevieve remarked, after Rosalind, worn out by the
+conflicting experiences of the day, had gone to bed.
+
+Mrs. Whittredge did not reply at once. On her lap lay her granddaughter's
+little volume of "As You Like It," and she had been reading the words
+about the Forest. It had a way of opening to that page.
+
+"She is a peculiar, fanciful child, and quite old enough to know better.
+Professor Sargent may be a brilliant man, but it seems to me he has filled
+the child's head full of nonsense. I can't see what Patterson has been
+thinking of," Genevieve continued.
+
+"I am not inclined to find much fault with her. I did not expect her to be
+perfect. She seems naturally sweet and happy," her mother replied.
+
+"Losing by the way the sacred gift of happiness," Mrs. Whittredge's eyes
+went back to the book. Surely happiness had slipped from her grasp,
+leaving nothing but regret. It was sad to realize that her children found
+all their pleasure apart from her. Somewhere she had failed, but pride
+told her it was fate; that sorrow and disappointment were the common lot,
+that gratitude was not to be looked for.
+
+After her bitter disappointment in her oldest son she had been the more
+determined to have her way with Allan. With what result? The extended
+tour abroad, planned with a purpose just as his college course was ended,
+had weaned him completely from his home. His interests were elsewhere, and
+although as joint executor with her of his father's estate he was often in
+Friendship, his visits were usually brief. Between herself and her
+daughter there was little sympathy. Genevieve, calm and inflexible, had
+early declared her independence. But more than all else put together was
+her haunting sorrow for her husband. Words of Dr. Fair, spoken long ago in
+cruel bluntness, still rang in her ears: "Madam, you are killing your
+husband by your obstinacy." Her mind dwelt with morbid persistency upon
+them. Had the reconciliation with her son come too late?
+
+At a time of utter weariness with herself she acceded to Patterson's
+proposal to send his daughter to her. Genevieve had expostulated,
+insisting she would be impossible, a child with no bringing up. Rosalind
+had come, and even Genevieve had to admit, so far as manners and
+appearance were concerned, she was not impossible.
+
+In the fair young face, with its serious eyes, in whose glance there was
+often a singular radiance, Mrs. Whittredge found something that touched
+her heart. Her granddaughter had not the Whittredge beauty, she was
+nothing of a Whittredge, and yet--One day she had taken up the miniature
+on Rosalind's table, with a glance over her shoulder; and when she put it
+down and turned away, it was with the reluctant feeling that perhaps there
+had been some excuse for her son when he left father and mother and
+kindred and home for this young girl.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER EIGHTH.
+
+TO MEET ROSALIND.
+
+"Put you in your best array."
+
+
+Miss Betty Bishop lived in a small white house with brown trimmings, which
+she herself likened to a white cake with chocolate filling. Everything
+about it was snug and neat and seemed to the observer a pleasant
+expression of that kindly, busy, cheery lady; but Miss Betty was in the
+habit of declaring it had taken her twenty years to get settled in those
+small, low-ceiled rooms, and that she didn't feel quite in yet.
+
+There had been a great sacrifice of fine old furniture when the big house
+on Main Street had to be exchanged for the little one in Church Lane, and
+it was no wonder Miss Betty sighed at the thought. None the less she had
+accepted courageously the reverses which at twenty brought her gay
+girlhood to an end, and for fifteen years was a cheerful, devoted nurse
+to her invalid father. Since his death she lived alone with only Sophy,
+her old mammy, to cook and care for her.
+
+When it became known that Miss Betty had invited certain of her young
+friends to tea to meet Rosalind Whittredge, a wave of excitement swept
+over Friendship.
+
+All the children of the town had heard stories of Miss Betty's beauty and
+belleship, but those Washington winters belonged to twenty years ago and
+had no connection with her present popularity. Sophy's skill as a cook no
+doubt had something to do with the fame of her mistress's tea parties, but
+besides this Miss Betty knew how to make her guests, whether young or old,
+have a good time.
+
+When asked if she was fend of children, she was sure to reply, "Some
+children. I don't like disagreeable children any better than I do
+disagreeable grown persons." And for this reason, perhaps, it had come to
+be esteemed something of an honor to be asked to her house.
+
+Miss Betty had at first felt a prejudice against Patterson Whittredge's
+daughter, deciding in her own mind that she was probably a spoiled little
+thing; but the sight of Rosalind taking tea with Morgan, and more than
+this, the frank gaze of those disarming gray eyes, had touched her kindly
+heart. She knew as well as anybody that it must be lonely in the
+Whittredge house; and so she had thought of the tea party.
+
+The interest felt in Patterson Whittredge's daughter was very general.
+Patterson belonged to those old times when peace had reigned in
+Friendship. He had been a favorite in the village, and to many it seemed
+only the other day that he had gone away. It was incredible that this tall
+girl seen walking by Mrs. Whittredge's side could be his daughter. There
+were those like Mrs. Graham's pupils, who were inclined to invest her with
+a halo of romance; others criticised her as not at all the Whittredge
+style, not what one had a right to expect in Mrs. Whittredge's
+granddaughter. Some pitied Mrs. Whittredge for the responsibility thrust
+upon her, others pitied Rosalind, and still more, envied her.
+
+In view of all the discussion, it was not possible to regard an invitation
+to meet her as quite an everyday matter.
+
+"I do wish you had not soiled your embroidered muslin, Belle. You will
+have to wear your summer silk," said Mrs. Parton, addressing her daughter,
+who sat on the dining-room floor entertaining a Maltese kitten with a
+string and spool.
+
+"I forgot to tell you, mother, Jack dropped some wax candle on it last
+Sunday night, when we were looking for a penny in the grass," Belle
+replied, lifting her merry black eyes for a moment. "Anyway, it isn't a
+dress-up party--only to supper."
+
+"Bring that dress to me at once. I am astonished at you. The only decent
+thing you have!" Mrs. Parton sat down and clasped her hands in an attitude
+of desperation.
+
+Followed by the kitten, Belle departed, returning directly with the blue
+and white checked silk over her arm.
+
+"Whatever it is," her mother continued, I want you to look nice; Betty
+says Rosalind Whittredge has beautiful clothes."
+
+"I just know she is a prig," remarked Belle, caressing the kitten.
+
+"No, she isn't!" A tumbled head and a pair of eyes very like Belle's own
+peered out suddenly from beneath the table cover. "If she was, she
+wouldn't have run away to take supper with Morgan."
+
+"Mercy upon us, Jack! you are enough to startle the sphinx. Come out from
+under that table at once," commanded his mother.
+
+"Did she do that?" asked Belle, with some interest, adding, "Is it very
+bad, mother? Can you clean it? How do you know she did, Jack?"
+
+Mrs. Parton shook her head; "I'll try French chalk," she said.
+
+"Miss Betty said so. She saw her," put in Jack.
+
+Mrs. Parton rose. "Another time when you lose a penny, I will make it good
+rather than have your best dress spoiled," she remarked.
+
+"But you see, mother, it was a church penny," Belle explained, as if she
+were mentioning some rare and peculiar coin. "Arthur brought the
+collection home because Uncle Ranney wasn't there, and when he untied his
+handkerchief on the porch a penny dropped out and rolled into the grass."
+
+"Who is going to Miss Betty's?" Jack asked, as his mother left the room.
+
+"Maurice and Katherine and you and me, and the Ellises, and--I don't know
+who."
+
+"I know it will be stupid; I don't think I'll go."
+
+"If it is stupid, you will make it so," retorted his sister, adding, "and
+you will go, too, for mother will make you; besides, you know you wouldn't
+miss Sophy's waffles." Belle departed with the kitten, leaving Jack to
+return to the latest Henty book and his retreat under the table.
+
+The Partons' was a square house, with a wide hall dividing it through the
+middle and opening on a porch at either end. When the weather at all
+permitted, these doors stood wide open, and dogs and cats and children ran
+in and out as they pleased. In the afternoons Colonel Parton sat on the
+front porch smoking and reading, threatening the dogs and the children
+indiscriminately, receiving not the slightest attention from either.
+
+As she passed him now, Belle mischievously deposited the kitten on his
+shoulder.
+
+"You baggage, you! Take this thing off me," thundered the colonel, as the
+kitten made its claws felt in a frantic endeavor to hold on in its
+perilous position.
+
+"O father! don't hurt her," Belle cried, running to the rescue, and in the
+scuffle that followed, the unfortunate kitten escaped.
+
+"Don't you let me catch you doing a thing like that again," scolded the
+colonel, as he picked up his paper and settled himself in his chair again.
+
+Belle laughed, and held up her face for a kiss, which her father gave with
+a hearty good will.
+
+Mrs. Parton was not the only one who felt dress to be a matter of
+importance on this occasion. Charlotte Ellis stopped at the bank gate to
+ask Katherine what she was going to wear.
+
+"My blue lawn, I think," Katherine answered. "Mother says it is nice
+enough, and that I must keep my new white dress for Commencement."
+
+"Your blue dress is very pretty, I am sure," Charlotte said. She was two
+years older than Katherine, and her manner was mildly patronizing. "I
+think I shall wear white. Of course it is not a party, but we want to
+make a good impression on a stranger."
+
+Katherine felt the force of this, but Maurice, who overheard Charlotte,
+was inclined to jeer. "Much difference it will make to her what you have
+on," he said, as Charlotte left them. "Her," meant Rosalind.
+
+"How do you know it won't make any difference?" asked Katherine.
+
+"Because she is not that kind."
+
+"What kind? How do you know?"
+
+Now Maurice had kept his interview with Rosalind to himself, saying
+nothing to any one when he returned her book. His sudden interest in
+Shakespeare had not passed unnoticed; but as this or something else had
+caused longer intervals of cheerfulness, the family had not ventured to
+disturb the agreeable change by asking questions.
+
+"I know, because I talked to her the other day," he replied.
+
+"Maurice, really?" cried Katherine. "I don't believe it"
+
+"You needn't if you don't want to," was her brother's lofty answer.
+
+On the appointed evening the guest of honor was the last to arrive, and
+the others were in such a state of expectancy they could not settle down
+to an examination of Miss Betty's puzzle drawer with which she usually
+entertained her young guests until supper was announced. Miss Betty, who
+adored puzzles and problems of all kinds, was continually adding to her
+collection, and this evening there was a brand new one, brought from the
+city only the day before; but even Belle, who was especially good at
+puzzles, and besides affected not to care about Rosalind Whittredge, could
+not keep her eyes from the window.
+
+The application of French chalk had been successful, and she wore her blue
+and white silk; Katherine, in her blue muslin, with ribbons to match on
+her smooth braids, wished her mother had been more impressed with the
+importance of the occasion. Charlotte was complacent in her white dress
+with a large ribbon bow on top of her head, in a new fashion just received
+from her cousin in Baltimore.
+
+"That's the way Rosalind wears hers," whispered Katherine.
+
+The boys fingered the puzzles and talked about the ball game to be played
+to-morrow, but they shared the feeling of anticipation. Their hostess
+bustled back and forth.
+
+"Children," she said, pausing in the door, "I want you to be as nice as
+possible to Rosalind. Remember she is a stranger, and we wish her to have
+a pleasant impression of Friendship."
+
+"Here she is!" announced Belle, and the rest crowded around the window.
+
+"There's Miss Genevieve," whispered Charlotte; "girls, she is coming in!"
+
+The Whittredge carriage had stopped before the gate and Miss Genevieve, a
+marvel of grace in soft chiffons that rippled and curled about her slender
+height and emphasized the fairness of her skin, was actually escorting her
+niece to the door.
+
+"Isn't she lovely?" sighed Charlotte, in an ecstasy.
+
+"Not so sweet as Miss Celia," said loyal Belle.
+
+Miss Betty met them on the porch, while her guests in the parlor craned
+their necks to catch a glimpse, through the open door, of the new
+arrivals. The languid sweetness of Miss Genevieve's tone floated in above
+Miss Betty's crisper utterance.
+
+"Mamma is just as usual, thank you. Yes, it was very kind of you to ask
+her; I have no doubt she finds it dull. Yes, we expect Allan in a week or
+two, but there is no counting on him."
+
+So absorbed were the listeners, they did not begin their retreat soon
+enough, and their hostess, ushering Rosalind in, encountered a scene of
+confusion. Katherine in the excitement fell backward over a footstool and
+was rescued, flushed and shamefaced, by Jack Parton. Charlotte smoothed
+her dress and tried to look dignified. Belle and Maurice were in fits of
+laughter.
+
+Miss Betty surveyed them in surprise. Rosalind stood beside her, and the
+girls at once noted that she wore pink.
+
+"Is anything the matter?" asked Miss Betty, observing Katherine's flushed
+face. "I want to introduce Rosalind Whittredge to you. Rosalind, this is
+Charlotte Ellis, and Katherine Roberts, and Belle Parton--"
+
+Still laughing, Belle held out her hand. "We were peeping at you," she
+said.
+
+"Didn't you know I was coming in?" Rosalind asked, a gleam of fun in her
+own eyes.
+
+"We wanted to see Miss Genevieve," added Belle.
+
+As Miss Betty proceeded to name the boys, Rosalind said, "Oh, I know
+Maurice," quite as if he were an old friend; and she added, standing
+beside him, "I am so much obliged to you for bringing my book home."
+
+"Does Maurice know her?" whispered Belle.
+
+Katherine nodded, although she had had her doubts until this minute.
+
+Maurice was agreeably conscious of Belle's eyes as he talked to Rosalind.
+He was not at all unwilling to have the distinction of being the only one
+to know the new-comer.
+
+"I read the story," he said. "I did not know till after you had gone that
+it was one of Shakespeare's plays. We read Julius Caesar at school last
+winter."
+
+"I know that too," Rosalind answered. I have Lamb's stories. Cousin Louis
+used to read them to me, and then from the real plays, but I like the
+story of the Forest best."
+
+"Dear me! they are talking about Shakespeare," Belle exclaimed.
+
+Rosalind looked across the room at her, and smiled in a way that seemed an
+invitation.
+
+"It is a little funny for her to sit down beside a boy the first thing,
+don't you think?" Charlotte said in a low tone to Katherine, who assented
+because she was in the habit of agreeing with Charlotte.
+
+Belle overheard. "Silly!" she said, and to show her scorn she went over
+and sat on an arm of the sofa beside Rosalind.
+
+"Do you like to read?" she asked.
+
+Rosalind opened her eyes. "Of course I do, don't you?"
+
+Belle, who had browsed in her father's library since she had learned her
+letters, was known as a great reader, and felt rather proud of her
+reputation; but she found the stranger had read as much as she, and seemed
+to think nothing of it.
+
+In the warmth of a discussion of favorite stories any stiffness is sure to
+melt rapidly away. Jack, hearing mention of "The Talisman," joined in and
+the others drew up their chairs, so that when Miss Betty rustled back from
+an excursion to the dining room she found the ice broken and sociability
+prevailing. But she startled them all by an exclamation.
+
+"Jack Parton, for pity's sake, sit up! and you too, Katherine; I cannot
+allow my guests to sit on their spines."
+
+"But it is so much more comfortable," protested lazy Jack, slowly screwing
+himself into a more erect position, while Katherine straightened up with a
+blush.
+
+"There seems to be something wrong with the spines of this generation, and
+the first thing you know it will react on their mental and moral natures.
+People without backbone are odious," Miss Betty continued.
+
+"I wish you children could have seen Miss Patricia Gilpin as I saw her
+once when I was a little child, more than thirty years ago. She was
+straight as an arrow and pretty as a picture. Such old ladies have gone
+out of fashion. I remember hearing her describe the backboard and spiked
+collar she wore for several hours each day when she was a child."
+
+"What was the spiked collar for?" Rosalind asked.
+
+"To keep her head in the correct position."
+
+"I am glad I didn't live then," said Belle.
+
+At this point Miss Betty's sermon was interrupted by the appearance of a
+small, brown boy in a white apron, who announced supper.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER NINTH.
+
+THE LOST RING.
+
+"Wear this for me."
+
+
+The old mahogany table had never reflected a circle of brighter faces than
+gathered about it that evening to do justice to Sophy's good things served
+on Miss Hetty's pretty china.
+
+Rosalind at the left hand of her hostess looked around the company with
+frank enjoyment of the novelty of the occasion. These young people were
+very entertaining, particularly Belle; and more amusing than anything was
+the small waiter, at whom Miss Betty glanced so sternly when he showed a
+disposition to laugh at the jokes.
+
+It was when Miss Betty began to serve the strawberries that some one
+remarked on the old cream-pitcher of colonial glass, and thus started her
+on her favorite topic of the cream-jug and sugar-dish that exactly
+matched her teapot and should have been hers.
+
+This was the first time Rosalind had heard mention of old Mr. Gilpin and
+the will.
+
+"My grandmother and Cousin Thomas's mother were sisters," Miss Betty
+explained, "and when their father and mother died the family silver was
+divided between them. In this way the teapot came down to me, and some of
+the other pieces to Cousin Anne, who was, you know, Cousin Thomas's
+sister."
+
+"Was old Mr. Gilpin related to me, Cousin Betty?" asked Rosalind.
+
+"Why, certainly, my dear; it is time you were learning about your
+relations. He was your grandfathers own cousin. Your great-grandmother was
+Mary Gilpin before she married Mr. Whittredge."
+
+"Rosalind looks puzzled," said Belle, laughing.
+
+Rosalind laughed too. "I never knew about relations before. Does father
+know all this?"
+
+"I should hope so; this is not much to know."
+
+"Miss Betty, you promised to tell us about the ring, sometime; Rosalind
+would like to hear it, I am sure. Wouldn't you, Rosalind?" asked Belle.
+
+Rosalind wished very much to hear it, and Miss Betty, with a glance around
+the table, remarked, "I shall be glad to tell what I know if you care to
+have me, and Jack will sit up."
+
+"Send for a pillow, Miss Betty; that is what mother does," Belle
+suggested, to the delight of the small waiter, who was compelled to retire
+suddenly to the hall, where he was heard giggling.
+
+"As some of you know," Miss Betty began, "the ring belonged to Miss
+Patricia Gilpin, who was an aunt of Cousin Thomas's, and your
+great-great-aunt, Rosalind. If it is still in existence, it is not far
+from eighty years old. You might suppose from the way in which they are
+spoken of now, that in the early part of the century all young women were
+beauties and belles; but if there is any truth in her miniature, Patricia
+Gilpin was a really beautiful woman."
+
+"Wasn't she married? I thought it was an engagement ring," said Charlotte.
+
+"It was, but she never married. The young naval officer to whom she was
+engaged was killed in the War of 1812. They had known each other only a
+short time; it was love at first sight, I suppose. He had the ring made
+for her, and I always heard that she received it and the news of his death
+at nearly the same time. The last message she had from him was, 'Wear this
+for me,' which he had written on a card and enclosed with the ring; and
+she always wore it. She was a girl of eighteen at the time, and greatly
+admired; but she never forgot her lover."
+
+"Did she live in Friendship?" Rosalind asked.
+
+"During her father's lifetime this was her home. She was born in the old
+Gilpin house, which was new then; and perhaps you know that the rustic
+summer-house at the top of the hill on the left is called Patricia's
+arbor. For some years after her lover's death she lived in seclusion,
+seeing no one; and always when the weather permitted she would sit in the
+arbor, looking out upon the river.
+
+"It was said that this was the scene of their courtship, but it may be
+only a story.
+
+"After her father's death she lived in Washington, but she often visited
+Cousin Anne in the old place. As I have said, I remember seeing her and
+hearing her talk, when I was a child of six or seven. She was a stately
+and beautiful old lady, and as I recall it now, her face showed she had
+borne her share of trouble and disappointment bravely; and you can't say
+more than that for anybody."
+
+"That is what Cousin Louis says," remarked Rosalind, smiling at Maurice.
+
+"But you haven't told us what the ring was like," put in Charlotte.
+
+"I never could tell a straight story," replied Miss Betty, laughing.
+"Well, it was a broad band of open lace-work of a most delicate and
+beautiful pattern, and made of pure gold. The stone was an oval sapphire
+of great depth and purity of color, in a setting of tiny stars, made of
+little points of gold. When Miss Patricia died she left the ring to Cousin
+Anne, her niece, along with many other valuable things. Cousin Anne never
+wore it, but she used to show it to me sometimes as a great treat, and I
+have tried it on more than once. Cousin Anne ought to have made a will;
+but at best she was an undecided person, and she had a long illness. It
+was generally supposed she would leave it to your aunt Genevieve,
+Rosalind, or else to Patricia Marshall. Indeed, there were half a dozen of
+them who would have given their heads for it. Cousin Anne knew it, and she
+hated to disappoint anybody, so she ended by disappointing everybody."
+
+"Why didn't she leave it to you. Miss Betty?" asked Jack.
+
+"Miss Patricia was not related to me. She was aunt to Cousin Thomas and
+Cousin Anne on their father's side, and I am connected through the
+Barnwells, his mother's family, just as Rosalind's grandmother is," she
+explained; adding, "As Cousin Anne left no will, everything she owned went
+to her brother; and you have all heard about his will. Most of his money
+was to go to the endowment of a hospital, all the other property to be
+sold and the proceeds divided among his first cousins or their children,
+except the ring and an old spinet that came to him through his wife. The
+first he left to Allan Whittredge, the other to Celia Fair."
+
+"To Uncle Allan?" asked Rosalind, greatly interested.
+
+"Yes, and everybody wonders why. However, when they came to take an
+inventory, the ring was not to be found."
+
+"And they haven't the least idea what became of it," remarked Maurice.
+
+"I think it was stolen," said Miss Betty, "although I acknowledge there is
+something mysterious about it. Cousin Thomas was subject to attacks of
+heart failure, and was found one evening unconscious in his arm-chair
+before the open door of the safe, where he kept his valuables. Morgan had
+left him an hour before, apparently as well as usual. He was discovered in
+this condition by old Milly, who is honest as the day, and she sent at
+once for Dr. Fair, next door, but it was some time before he could be
+found, and in the excitement it seems quite possible the ring might have
+been stolen. After Dr. Fair had partially revived the old man, he noticed
+the open safe and closed it. Cousin Thomas never regained consciousness
+entirely, and died the next day. It must have been a week before the ring
+was missed. The strange thing is that there were jewels of greater value
+in the safe, which were not disturbed."
+
+"Don't you wish your uncle would give it to you if it is found?" Charlotte
+asked Rosalind.
+
+"In his will Mr. Gilpin said he left the ring to Allan, who was aware of
+his wishes in regard to it. I have no idea what those wishes were, but I
+hardly think he had Rosalind in mind," Miss Betty said, smiling.
+
+"Uncle Allan must know what he meant. How strange!"
+
+"Like a story, isn't it?" said Belle.
+
+"Have they looked everywhere for it?" continued Rosalind.
+
+"Yes; the most, thorough search has been made, to no effect."
+
+The rest of the evening was spent in games, and from the laughing that
+went on, Miss Betty's guests must have enjoyed themselves. When Martin
+came for her and Rosalind said good night to her new friends, she did not
+feel like the same girl who had had to go to the magician to be cheered a
+few days ago. The face she lifted to the stars as she walked home was very
+bright indeed.
+
+Grandmamma and Aunt Genevieve sat in the hall.
+
+"Have you had a pleasant time?" Mrs. Whittredge asked.
+
+"A beautiful time, grandmamma. I do like to know people. And Miss Betty--I
+mean Cousin Betty--told us about the lost ring and--was she my
+aunt?--Patricia? Did you ever see her, grandmamma?"
+
+"Yes, a number of times. She visited at our house when I was a child. She
+died a few years after my marriage. Your Aunt Genevieve is thought to
+resemble the miniature done of her in her girlhood."
+
+Rosalind looked in the direction of the arm-chair where her aunt half
+reclined, her eyes on a book, her clear profile in relief against the dark
+leather, the mellow lamp-light bringing out the copper tints in her hair.
+"Then I know she must have been lovely," she said.
+
+Mrs. Whittredge laughed, and Genevieve lifted her eyes to ask, "What is
+that?"
+
+"Rosalind is sure Patricia Gilpin must have been handsome if you resemble
+her," her mother replied.
+
+Genevieve shrugged her shoulders, and her lips curled a little, although
+she smiled; "Thank you, Rosalind," she said.
+
+"I don't believe," thought Rosalind, as she slowly prepared for bed, "that
+Miss Patricia--Aunt Patricia--looked as if she didn't care about anything.
+She bore hard things bravely, Miss Betty said, and I believe people who do
+that have a kind look." Here her glance fell upon the miniature on her
+dressing-table. The sweet eyes smiled on her. Taking it up she pressed it
+to her lips; "Like you, my dear beautiful," she whispered.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TENTH.
+
+CELIA.
+
+"One out of suits with fortune."
+
+
+"O Celia!" called Miss Betty Bishop, from her front door, "come in a
+minute. I had a tea party last night, and I want to send your mother some
+of Sophy's marshmallow cake. I am so glad you happened by," she added, as
+Celia came up the walk, "I was wondering how I should get it to her."
+
+"It is very kind of you, Miss Betty," said Celia, following her into the
+dining room.
+
+"There is no kindness about it," asserted Miss Betty, opening the cake
+box. "I am just proud of Sophy's good things and like to make other people
+envy me."
+
+"That is not hard," Celia answered, thinking that life seemed easy and
+pleasant in this snug little house. Miss Betty had had her hard times, she
+knew, but the troubles of others are apt to seem easier to bear than
+one's own, just as in bad weather the best walking is always on the other
+side of the street.
+
+Celia was warm and tired, and the dim, cool room was grateful to her as
+she sat resting in silence while Miss Betty fluttered back and forth.
+
+"Perhaps you'll think I'd better mind my own business," she said,
+returning after a moment's absence, "but here is something I saw in the
+_Gazette_. It might be worth trying."
+
+Celia knew by heart the advertisement held out to her. "Work at home.
+Fifteen dollars a week made with ease, etc." She accepted it meekly,
+however, not wishing to hurt her friend's feelings.
+
+"Talking about minding your own business," continued Miss Betty, "in my
+experience it does not pay. I once saw Cousin Anne Gilpin looking at
+taffeta at Moseley's, and I knew as well as I knew my name that the piece
+she selected wouldn't wear. At first I thought I'd tell her; then I
+decided it was none of my business,--Cousin Anne was old enough to know
+about the quality of silk. And what do you think? She sent me a waist
+pattern off it for a Christmas gift!"
+
+Celia laughed as she rose to go. "Thank you for the cake, even if it isn't
+a kindness. Mother will enjoy it," she said.
+
+"You haven't noticed my hall paper," Miss Betty remarked, escorting her
+visitor to the door. "I don't expect you to say it is pretty, for it
+isn't. I have to confess wall paper is too much for me. This entry is so
+small I could not put anything big and bright on it, so I thought I was
+getting the very thing when I selected this,--and what does it look like?
+Nothing in the world but a clean calico dress. Now it is done I see it
+would have been better with plain paper."
+
+"It is clean and unobtrusive," Celia agreed, smiling. Her smiles were a
+little forced this morning, it was easy to see; and Miss Betty, laying a
+kind hand on her arm, said, "Don't worry too much, Celia. I know something
+about hard times, and you will work through after a while."
+
+Celia felt the tears rising, and she left Miss Betty with an abruptness
+that made her ashamed of herself as she recalled it. After the exertion
+of climbing the hill she stopped to rest on the rustic seat just inside
+her own gate. "I wonder," she asked herself, "if there is anything much
+harder to bear than seeing a house you love going to ruin and not to be
+able to save it."
+
+A branch of the honeysuckle that twined about the gate-post touched her
+shoulder, as if to remind her there was still some sweetness in life after
+all; but she did not heed it, nor the rose vines and clematis which made
+the old gray house beautiful in spite of needed repairs. Celia saw only
+rotting woodwork and sagging steps. She thought how the flower garden had
+been her father's pride, and how in his spare moments, few as they were,
+he was sure to be found digging and trimming and training, with the
+happiness of the born gardener. Ah, those days! She remembered the
+half-incredulous wonder with which she had been used to hear people speak
+of the certainty of trouble. She had felt so certain that joy overbalanced
+sorrow, that smiles were more frequent than tears. Now she understood,
+since she had tried to hide her own grief under a smiling face.
+
+From her babyhood she had been her father's companion and confidante,
+driving about the country with him, interested in all that concerned his
+large practice. A warm-hearted, impulsive man, open handed to the point of
+extravagance, Dr. Fair had had few enemies and many friends; and loving
+his work, life had been full of joy to him. In contrast with those happy
+years the bitterness of his last days seemed doubly cruel to Celia.
+Whenever she was tired and discouraged, the memory of that dark time rose
+before her.
+
+She had been only a child when Patterson Whittredge left home, but she
+could remember how warmly her father had taken his side, and how this had
+caused the first coolness between him and his boyhood friend, Judge
+Whittredge. The judge was influenced by his wife, and between the stubborn
+doctor and imperious Mrs. Whittredge there had been no love lost.
+
+The storm had passed after a while, and when the judge's health began to
+fail Dr. Fair had been called in. But Mrs. Whittredge had not forgotten,
+and the doctor's position was not an easy one. Only his devotion to his
+old friend had kept him from giving up the case at the beginning. The
+Gilpin will and her father's testimony to the old man's sanity had added
+to the trouble, and upon this had come the accusation which, whispered
+about, had broken the doctor's heart. Harassed by the hard times and the
+failure of investments, denied a place at the bedside of his friend, he
+had fallen an easy victim to pneumonia, outliving Judge Whittredge only a
+few days. The memory of it lay like lead upon Celia's heart.
+
+"I have left you nothing but a heritage of misfortune, Celia," had been
+his last words to her.
+
+"Don't think of that, father; I'll manage," she answered; and she had
+tried, but the solving of the problem was costing her the bloom of her
+youth. There were the two brothers to be educated, and a delicate, almost
+invalid mother to be cared for, and an income that would little more than
+pay the taxes on their home. To sell or rent it was not at present
+practicable, and she could not take boarders, for no one boarded in
+Friendship. Neither could she leave to try her fortune in the city, so she
+had been doing whatever her hand found to do. Sewing, embroidering, a
+little teaching, and, in season, pickling and preserving. Friends had been
+kind, but Celia was proud and determined to fight her own battle, and
+sometimes, as this morning, kindness made her burden seem harder to bear.
+
+The worst of it was the root of bitterness in her heart. She could never
+forgive Mrs. Whittredge. Few guessed the intensity hidden beneath Celia's
+gentle manner. Only now and then a spark from her dark blue eyes revealed
+it. The general construction put upon her proud reserve was that she was
+unsociable.
+
+There is no loneliness like that of the unforgiving heart. Celia had never
+felt it so strongly as after her meeting with Rosalind Whittredge in the
+cemetery. There had been something in the soft gaze of the gray eyes that
+she could not forget. It had made her take up the rose again after she
+flung it away and carry it home with her.
+
+But she must not linger here any longer. There was an order from the
+Exchange in the city which should be promptly filled if she hoped for
+others. As she rose she confronted Morgan entering the gate.
+
+"Good morning," he said, and there was an odd sort of embarrassment in his
+manner as he added, "Some of your window frames need fixing, Miss Celia."
+
+She smiled and shook her head. "Can't afford it."
+
+"Miss Celia, let me do it, I've lots of time, and the doctor was very good
+to me," he said.
+
+Again Celia shook her head, but the hurt look on Morgan's face made her
+relent. "Well, perhaps the worst ones," she spelled. She would trust to
+being able to make it up to him sometime.
+
+"That's right," he exclaimed, joyfully, adding, as he turned to go, "Don't
+you worry, Miss Celia. There's good in it somewhere."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER ELEVENTH.
+
+MAKING FRIENDS.
+
+"Is not that neighborly?"
+
+
+
+Miss Betty's tea party was the beginning of a new and happier state of
+affairs for Rosalind; one pleasant thing followed another. There were
+letters from the travellers, long and delightful and full of the genial
+spirit of the Forest, making her more than ever certain that they and she
+were alike journeying beneath its shelter, and at some turn of the road
+would surely meet again.
+
+Mrs. Whittredge also had a letter, "I trust you will not keep Rosalind
+secluded," her son wrote. "I want her to have companions of her own age,
+and to learn to know and love the old town as I loved it. She has lived
+too much with Louis and me and story books; it is time she was waking up."
+
+This explains why the Roberts children and the Partons received special
+invitations to call on Rosalind. Friendship began to seem to her a very
+different place as her acquaintance with it grew and neighborly relations
+were established with Maurice and Katherine. The gap in the hedge became a
+daily meeting-place, and grew slowly, but steadily, wider.
+
+A few days after the tea party, Katherine asked Rosalind to go out to the
+creek with her, and on the way they stopped for Belle. While she went to
+find her hat, Rosalind made the acquaintance of the colonel and several
+dogs. Then the three strolled along the wide street, under the shade of
+tall maples, past pleasant gardens and inviting houses, until the street
+turned into a country road, and before them was Red Hill and the little
+bridge over Friendly Creek at its foot.
+
+Under the bridge the water rippled and splashed over the stones, and out
+of sight, back somewhere among the trees, it could be heard rushing over a
+dam. The children seated themselves on a bit of pebbly beach.
+
+"How nice to be near the real country!" Rosalind exclaimed. "At home we
+are near the park, but that is not the real country. We have to go miles
+to get there."
+
+"But there are such lovely stores and things in the city," said Katherine.
+
+"Still, you can't go about by yourself, as you can here," Rosalind
+answered; and Belle added, "I like to go to the city for a little while,
+but I'd rather live in Friendship, where the houses aren't so close
+together."
+
+As they sat there, throwing stones in the water and writing in the sand,
+Rosalind heard a great deal about school, which would close next
+week,--how the girls had rushed to the window to see her and had lost
+their recess, and how Belle had been sent to the office, besides, for
+making chalk dishes. It was all very amusing, but she could not understand
+why the girls wanted to see her.
+
+"Well, you know they are all interested in your house, and in Miss
+Genevieve; and then everybody was surprised at your coming to visit your
+grandmother."
+
+"I can't see why," Rosalind said, opening her eyes.
+
+"Oh, well--because you never had before, you know." Belle's manner was
+hesitating, as if she felt conscious of being on dangerous ground.
+
+What she said was certainly true. Rosalind herself did not exactly
+understand it. She knew only that there had been some reason why her
+father had not visited his old home for many years. She wondered if these
+girls knew more about it than she.
+
+"You see, you are something new," Belle added, laughing. "Didn't Miss
+Celia scold us that morning, Katherine?"
+
+"Why, no, Belle, she didn't exactly scold," said Katherine.
+
+"She didn't throw back her head and frown and say 'Young ladies, I am
+amazed!'"--here Bell gave an excellent imitation of Mrs. Graham's
+manner--"so you don't call it scolding. She just said, 'Girls, I don't
+know what to think!' and we felt as mean! I love Miss Celia."
+
+"So do I," echoed Katherine.
+
+"Is she one of your teachers?" Rosalind asked.
+
+"Yes; she is Miss Celia Fair. She teaches drawing and sometimes keeps
+study hour, and she is as sweet as she can be," Belle concluded, with
+enthusiasm.
+
+The name brought to mind one of Rosalind's greatest puzzles,--the
+hillside, the young lady who looked as if she might be as Belle described
+her--sweet; the strange incident of the rose, and Aunt Genevieve's words,
+"We have nothing to do with the Fairs."
+
+"I saw her once," she remarked gravely.
+
+"I forgot the Fairs and the Whittredges don't speak. Perhaps you know
+about it," said Belle.
+
+Rosalind shook her head.
+
+"I think it was about the will; wasn't it, Katherine? Mrs. Whittredge
+wanted to break it because she thought Mr. Gilpin was crazy, but Dr. Fair
+said he wasn't, and testified in court."
+
+Rosalind listened with interest. "Isn't Dr. Fair dead?" she asked.
+
+"Yes. He used to be our doctor, and I liked him so much."
+
+"The Fairs have lost all their money now, so Miss Celia has to teach and
+do all sorts of things," Katherine remarked.
+
+"Her name belongs to the Forest," thought Rosalind, looking at the
+ripples, Belle had thrown herself back and was gazing at the sky from
+under her hat brim; Katherine was busy with a collection of pebbles; the
+stillness was broken only by the hum of insects and the murmur of Friendly
+Creek. Suddenly Rosalind seemed to hear with perfect distinctness what it
+said,
+
+"Be fr-ie-nds, be fr-ie-nds," with a little trill on the words.
+
+From experience she knew very little of unfriendliness. All this about
+quarrels and having nothing to do with people was new to her. As she
+considered it she remembered that Oliver hated Orlando, and Rosalind's
+uncle had treated her and her father unkindly, in the story. "But it all
+came right in the end," she told herself, "when they met in the Forest."
+It was a cheering thought, and she smiled over it.
+
+"What are you smiling at?" Belle asked, sitting up.
+
+Rosalind's eyes had a far-away look as she replied, "I was thinking about
+the Forest."
+
+"What forest?" Belle began to ask, when a curly dog rushed down upon them,
+and on the bridge above their heads they saw the magician waving his
+hand.
+
+"Well, Curly Q. How are you?" cried Rosalind.
+
+"There's Morgan," said Belle; "you know him, don't you?"
+
+"Of course I do. I took tea with him last week," Rosalind answered,
+laughing.
+
+"And, Belle, she calls him the 'magician,'" Katherine said.
+
+"Do you? Why?"
+
+"Because he is one. Didn't you know it?" Rosalind danced up the slope,
+with Curly Q. after her.
+
+"Rosalind says you are a magician. Are you?" Belle spelled rapidly when
+they had joined Morgan on the bridge.
+
+The old man's eyes twinkled as he replied, "That's a secret; you mustn't
+tell anybody."
+
+"Ask him if he knows about the Forest," said Rosalind.
+
+Belle asked the question.
+
+Morgan laughed. "'Where the birds sing--'" he quoted.
+
+"Tell me about it, please," begged Belle. "Does Katherine know?"
+
+Rosalind promised she would sometime; and as Katherine did not know
+either, and as it was growing late, Belle agreed to wait.
+
+It was rather an odd and pleasant sight, if any one had stopped to think
+of it--the old man with his bright, wistful eyes, his tool box on his
+shoulder, and his three companions, walking home together. Demure
+Katherine, dainty Rosalind, saucy Belle,--all as merry as merry could
+be,--and Curly Q. running in and out among them in an ecstasy of delight,
+and at imminent danger of upsetting somebody.
+
+"Well, Pigeon, how do you like your new friend?" asked the colonel, as his
+daughter took her seat beside him on the door-step.
+
+Belle gazed thoughtfully across the lawn. "I like her," she answered, "but
+she is funny. I suppose it is because she hasn't gone much to school. She
+isn't like Charlotte, or Katherine, or me. She isn't prim, and yet--it is
+queer, father, but she makes me feel as I do when I am with Miss
+Celia--like behaving."
+
+The colonel laughed his hearty ha, ha! "I hope you'll cultivate her
+society," he said, adding, "she is like Pat, as high-toned a fellow as
+ever lived. He was something of a dreamer, too, and this child has the
+eyes of a poet."
+
+"They are gray," remarked Belle. "But I know what you mean, father; she
+looks as if she saw things far away. She was looking so this afternoon,
+and when I asked her what she was thinking about she said 'the forest.' I
+don't know what she meant, but Morgan knew."
+
+"You have plenty of sense," said her father, looking fondly upon her.
+
+"Of course I have, I am your child," laughed Belle, jumping up to give him
+a hug.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWELFTH.
+
+THE GILPIN PLACE.
+
+"This is the Forest of Arden."
+
+
+
+Rosalind, walking in the garden next morning, heard her name called from
+the other side of the hedge.
+
+"Is that you, Maurice?" she asked, bending to peep through the narrow
+opening where they had first become acquainted.
+
+"Yes; don't you want to go up to the Gilpin place?"
+
+"I'd rather go there than anywhere," Rosalind assented eagerly, "I am so
+interested in Aunt Patricia and the ring."
+
+"The house is closed, you know, but the grounds are pretty. I'll meet you
+at the gate whenever you are ready," Maurice answered.
+
+He considered Rosalind his special friend by right of first acquaintance,
+and had no thought of allowing Katherine or Belle to get the advantage of
+him, and for this reason he had planned the expedition. He also wished to
+talk over "As You Like It" without interruption, and was decidedly
+provoked when she called to Katherine, who was shelling peas on the side
+porch, "We are going to the Gilpin place; can't you come when you have
+finished?"
+
+Katherine, who had tried in vain to find out from Maurice where he was
+going, was more than delighted at the invitation.
+
+"It would have been nicer if we had stayed to help her," Rosalind
+remarked, as they walked up the street.
+
+"Girls' work," Maurice growled.
+
+"Well, I am a girl. And why shouldn't boys shell peas? They eat them."
+
+Maurice scorned such logic, but her eyes were so merry it was with an
+effort he kept himself from smiling.
+
+"Katherine is such a bother," he said.
+
+"I like Katherine; she is so pleasant," Rosalind observed, with a side
+glance at her companion.
+
+"Perhaps you'd rather go with her and have me stay at home?" he suggested,
+with much dignity.
+
+"And shell peas?" Rosalind laughed.
+
+What a provoking girl this was! And yet he liked her, and somehow at the
+vision of himself shelling peas he couldn't help laughing, too, and thus
+harmony was restored.
+
+After climbing the hill, a good deal of exertion for Maurice with his
+crutch, they paused to rest on the steps leading up from the gate of the
+Gilpin place.
+
+Rosalind, looking at the dignified mansion among the trees, felt the
+atmosphere of mysterious interest that always surrounds a closed and
+deserted house, particularly an old one upon which several generations
+have left their impress. She thought of the young and lovely Patricia, and
+the sailor lover who never came back.
+
+"Do you know, I feel very sorry for Aunt Patricia, Maurice. To have some
+one you love never come back--it must be very hard. I can understand a
+little now since father and cousin Louis went away. Miss Betty said she
+bore it bravely, too."
+
+"It was a long time ago," said Maurice, feeling that it was a waste of
+emotion to grieve over things that had happened so far back in the past.
+
+"But there is the ring. It is not so very long ago since that was here.
+Don't you wish we could go into the house and look for it? I believe it is
+there somewhere;" Rosalind spoke with assurance.
+
+"But they searched every nook and cranny," said Maurice.
+
+"If it were in a story, there would be a secret drawer somewhere. I wonder
+if Aunt Patricia isn't sorry it is lost." Rosalind sat in silence for a
+few moments, looking down at the town. "I like Friendship," she said.
+"There are a great many interesting things happening here, more than ever
+happen at home."
+
+The Gilpin house stood on an elevation of its own, from which the ground
+sloped gently in all directions. Its late owner had cared little for
+flowers and shrubs, but had taken pride in his trees, which still
+preserved the dignity of their forest days. At the back of the house there
+was a view of the little winding river, and halfway down the slope a once
+flourishing vegetable garden had turned itself into a picturesque
+wilderness of weeds. The charm of it all grew upon Rosalind as they walked
+about.
+
+"I should like to live here, Maurice. I like it better than our
+garden--grandmamma's, I mean. Let's sit on the grass, where we can see the
+river."
+
+Not far from them was the rustic summer-house which Miss Betty had called
+Patricia's arbor.
+
+"Maurice," Rosalind exclaimed, with conviction in her tone, "this is the
+Forest of Arden."
+
+"You talk about it as if it were all true, instead of only a story," said
+Maurice.
+
+"But it is true--one kind of true. Cousin Louis explained it to me
+once--ever so long ago, when I had a sore throat and couldn't go to the
+Christmas tree, at the president's. I cried and was dreadfully cross, and
+wouldn't look at my Christmas things; and after a while he asked me if I
+should like to live in the Forest of Arden. I was so surprised I stopped
+crying, and he told me that when we were brave and happy, we made a
+pleasant place for ourselves, where lovely things could happen, and when
+we were cross and miserable we made a desert for ourselves, where pleasant
+things couldn't possibly come about, just as if you want flowers to grow,
+you have to have good soil.
+
+"Cousin Louis can tell things in a very interesting way, and by and by I
+began to feel ashamed, and I made up my mind to try it; and when I told
+father, he said he would try too, and we found it was really true,
+Maurice. He and Cousin Louis and I--oh, we had such good times! We even
+told the president about it, and Cousin Louis said he was going to start a
+secret society of the Forest of Arden. Then he was ill, and everything
+stopped.
+
+"I know it isn't easy to stay in the Forest always, particularly when you
+are dreadfully lonesome, but the magician says if you keep on trying you
+will find the good in it after a while."
+
+"How can there be good in bad things?" Maurice demanded.
+
+"Did you read what was in my book? I know it by heart. 'If we choose, we
+may walk always in the Forest, where the birds sing and the sunlight sifts
+through the trees, where, although we sometimes grow footsore and hungry,
+we know that the goal is sure.' That means it will all come right in the
+end. Don't you know how, in the story, the people who hated each other all
+came to be friends in the Forest?"
+
+The sun travelling around the beech tree encroached upon their
+resting-place, and Maurice proposed moving farther down the slope. "Tell
+me about the secret society," he said, as they again settled themselves.
+
+"It was a very nice plan," Rosalind answered, clasping her knees and
+looking up into the tree top. "He told me about it one evening when he
+wasn't well and had to lie on the sofa, while father did the proofs. Only
+those could belong who made the best of things and knew the secret of the
+Forest. We were sure the president would join because he had had a great
+trouble and was very brave; and there was Mrs. Brown, who had lost all her
+money, and kept house for us. Then, I didn't have anything much to be
+brave about, but I have since, for I did so want to go with father and
+Cousin Louis. Perhaps that doesn't seem much," she added apologetically,
+"'but small things count,' Cousin Louis said."
+
+"I should think it might," Maurice agreed.
+
+"Aunt Patricia could have belonged," said Rosalind, her eyes still in the
+tree top. "I wonder if she knew about the Forest?"
+
+Maurice felt stirred by the picture her words called up of a great company
+of people all bearing hard things bravely. "There is Morgan," he
+suggested. "It must be hard to be deaf, yet he is always cheerful."
+
+"Yes, indeed, he could belong. He knows the secret of the Forest. And
+Maurice, you have a beautiful chance to be brave."
+
+Maurice's face grew red, he pushed his crutch impatiently from him. "I
+haven't been brave," he said.
+
+"No, you haven't," Rosalind acknowledged frankly; "but then you did not
+know about the Forest. Maurice, let's start a society, you and I, and
+perhaps some of the others will join. The magician will, I know."
+
+A shrill whistle was heard at this moment.
+
+"It is Jack," said Maurice; and sure enough that individual presently
+appeared and dropped down beside them, breathless from his run up the
+hill.
+
+"What are you two doing?" he puffed.
+
+"Talking. How warm you are!" and Rosalind offered her broad-brimmed hat
+for a fan. "Have you seen anything of Katharine?"
+
+"She and Belle are on the way. Say, what were you talking about? It seemed
+to be interesting." Jack rolled over on his back and blinked at the sky.
+
+Rosalind looked at Maurice. "Would you tell him?"
+
+"No," was the prompt reply, "he wouldn't care for it." He felt certain
+harum-scarum Jack would only be bored by the Forest, perhaps would make
+fun.
+
+Jack turned his face to Rosalind, "Tell me," he urged; "Maurice doesn't
+know what I like."
+
+"I will, then, as soon as the girls come."
+
+It was not long before Belle was heard calling, and she and Katherine came
+running across the grass and joined the group under the tree.
+
+"We are waiting for you; Jack wants to hear about the Forest," said
+Rosalind.
+
+"Yes, you promised to tell us what you meant, and how Morgan came to know
+about it." Belle cast her hat on the grass and shook back her hair.
+
+Maurice looked discontented. Jack and Belle would think it silly, and
+Katherine wouldn't understand.
+
+"Maurice knows about it, and perhaps some of the rest of you have read the
+story of the Forest of Arden," began Rosalind.
+
+Belle had, but Katherine and Jack had not so much as heard of it, so
+Rosalind told the story of the banished Duke and his followers who lived
+in the Forest, and were happy because they had learned to make the best of
+things and to find good even in trouble and disappointment; how Rosalind,
+the daughter of the Duke, was also banished, and with her cousin and the
+clown went to seek her father in the Forest; how Orlando, turned out of
+his home by his cruel elder brother, also went to the Forest in company
+with his old servant Adam; of their adventures there; and how finally the
+wicked Duke and the heartless brother, who were pursuing the runaways,
+came under the spell of the same Forest and repented of their evil deeds;
+and the story ended in forgiveness and love under the greenwood tree.
+
+It was just the day and place for the story. The joyous, lavish beauty of
+summer was everywhere around them, and as Rosalind told it her eyes took
+on the look Belle had described to her father. There was silence after she
+finished. Jack lay with his head on his arms, looking out on the river;
+Maurice was drawing beech leaves in his note-book, the discontent all gone
+from his face; Belle absently plaited the hem of her dress; while
+Katherine twisted a wreath of honeysuckle around her hat.
+
+"Is that all?" Belle asked, after a little.
+
+"That is the story; then I was telling Maurice about the meaning Cousin
+Louis found in it."
+
+"Tell us that," said Jack.
+
+Rosalind explained the Forest idea, and the plan for a secret society.
+This at once appealed to Belle.
+
+"That would be fun," she exclaimed. "We could have 'The Forest' for a
+watchword, and hold meetings out of doors somewhere."
+
+"Yes; 'under the greenwood tree,'" said Maurice.
+
+"I don't understand," said Katherine. "What are we to do?"
+
+"We promise to bear hard things bravely, and--"
+
+"Let's be like Robin Hood," Belle interrupted, "and help down-trodden
+people."
+
+"Do you know any?" asked her brother, turning over.
+
+"Jack makes me think of the dormouse in 'Alice,'" laughed Rosalind. "He is
+always going to sleep and waking up."
+
+"I'll tell you!" cried Belle, "let's search for the ring."
+
+"But we don't know where to look," said Katherine.
+
+"A thing isn't much lost if you know where to look, goosie," answered
+Maurice.
+
+"You see, it is partly pretend," Rosalind explained. "I think it is a
+beautiful idea, don't you, boys?" she asked.
+
+"Maurice, are you going to promise to bear hard things bravely?" Jack
+asked, with a quizzical look. It seemed to tickle him greatly, for he went
+off into a fit of laughing. "'See, the conquering hero comes,'" he hummed.
+
+Maurice pave him a thump with his crutch. "You aren't much of a hero,
+either," he said. "Who took the roof off when his tooth was pulled?"
+
+"But that hurt," said Jack, still laughing.
+
+"I am willing to own I have been making an awful fuss, but someway I
+hadn't thought about it, and I am willing to try if the rest are."
+
+"But I haven't any trouble," said Katherine.
+
+"Everybody has hard things to bear sometimes," replied Rosalind.
+
+"Doesn't Maurice ever snub you?" asked irrepressible Jack.
+
+"What shall we call our society?" Rosalind inquired, looking around the
+group for suggestions.
+
+Maurice tore a leaf from his note-book and divided it carefully into five
+parts, handing a slip to each of his companions.
+
+"Now be still for a while and think, and then write down a name."
+
+All was quiet for a time. "Now," said Maurice, "what is yours, Rosalind?"
+
+"The Secret Society of the Forest," said Rosalind.
+
+"Sons and Daughters of the Forest," announced Belle.
+
+"The Forest Society," said Jack.
+
+Katherine had not been able to think of a name. Maurice's was "The Arden
+Foresters," suggested, he said, by Belle's "Robin Hood."
+
+"I believe it is the best," said Rosalind, and so they all agreed finally,
+and the new society was named.
+
+"Now we must have a book and write in it what we promise," said Belle.
+
+"Let's appoint Rosalind and Maurice to draw up a--what do you call it?"
+suggested Jack.
+
+"I know," said Belle; "a constitution."
+
+"I meant to go into Patricia's Arbor, and I forgot," remarked Rosalind, as
+they walked home together.
+
+"I thought I saw some one sitting there when Belle and I passed," said
+Katherine.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER THIRTEENTH.
+
+IN PATRICIA'S ARBOR.
+
+"O, how full of briers is this working-day world."
+
+
+On this same bright morning when Rosalind for the first time saw the
+Gilpin place, Celia Fair carried her sewing, a piece of dainty lace work,
+to the old rustic summer-house. It made some variety in the monotony of
+things to sit here where she could lift her eyes now and then, and looking
+far away across the river to the hills, let them rest on a bit of sunny
+road that for a little space emerged from the shadow to disappear again on
+its winding way.
+
+On this stretch, of road the sunshine seemed always to lie warm and
+bright, and to Celia it brought a sense of restfulness. Perhaps in some
+far-off time the sunlight would again lie on her path.
+
+She loved the old place, and the thought that in all probability it would
+soon pass into the hands of strangers, troubled her. She had often sat
+here in Patricia's Arbor, beside old Thomas Gilpin, and listened to his
+reminiscences. She had been a favorite with the old man, all of the
+tenderness of whose nature had spent itself upon the wife who lived only a
+brief time; and in Celia's relationship to her, distant though it was, lay
+the secret of his regard.
+
+One of her earliest recollections was of taking tea at the Gilpin house in
+company with Genevieve and Allan Whittredge. Mild, fair-faced Miss Anne
+and her grim-visaged, cross-grained brother were a strangely assorted
+pair. Celia's childish soul had been filled with awe on these occasions.
+She had difficulty in keeping her seat in the stiff old haircloth chairs,
+or in crossing the polished floor of the drawing-room without slipping.
+
+At one end of this room stood the ancient spinet, long ago the property of
+her own great-grandmother, which she was told would some day be hers.
+Celia had been proud of this until Miss Anne, displaying her chief
+treasures, Patricia's miniature and ring, remarked upon Genevieve's
+likeness to her great-aunt. Genevieve, with the ring on her finger,
+looked complacently over her shoulder at the long mirror, and Celia was
+smitten with sudden envy. A great-grandmother called Saint Cecilia was not
+half so interesting as a beautiful great-aunt with a romantic love story;
+and an old and useless spinet not to be compared to a ring like
+Patricia's. That the ring was to be Genevieve's she never doubted.
+
+Allan had made fun of his sister and treated heirlooms in general with
+scorn, calling Celia to look at a print of Jonah in knee breeches and shoe
+buckles, emerging front the mouth of the whale. Allan always saw the fun
+in things.
+
+Between those days and the present there was a great gulf fixed. She had
+resolutely put away from her all these memories, and to-day she was
+annoyed that they should return in such force. They brought only pain to
+her tired heart.
+
+Her hands fell in her lap, and she gazed with unseeing eyes at the hills.
+After all, Patricia, mourning her lover, had not known the bitterest
+sorrow.
+
+The thought of her work, which must be done, aroused her. "What a weak
+creature I am, thinking my lot harder than that of any one else," she
+exclaimed, and taking up her needle she determinedly fixed her mind on the
+present. There was the suit Tom needed, and the grocery bill that should
+be paid the first of the month. She must work hard and not waste time in
+regrets. The summer that meant leisure and pleasure for many, meant only
+added cares for her.
+
+A surprising announcement broke in upon these dreary thoughts: "This is
+the Forest of Arden!"
+
+The voice was a sweet, girlish one, and came from somewhere behind the
+arbor, but the vines grew so thick she could not get a glimpse of the
+speaker. Celia went on with her work, feeling at first a little annoyed
+that her quiet should be disturbed, yet the suggestion of sylvan joy in
+the words grew upon her. The Forest of Arden--where they fleeted the time
+carelessly--what a rest for tired spirits it seemed to offer!
+
+"If we will, we may travel always in the Forest, where the birds sing and
+the sunlight sifts through the trees--" the same voice repeated. A stir of
+wind set the leaves rustling, and Celia lost the rest.
+
+"That means it will all come right in the end."
+
+"The people who hated each other all came to be friends in the Forest."
+
+Fragments like these floated in to Celia. Then she heard Maurice Roberta's
+voice saying, "Let's go farther down the slope." She went to the door of
+the arbor and looked out. As she had suspected, Maurice's companion was
+the girl she had encountered in the cemetery, Rosalind carried her hat in
+her hand, and as they crossed an open space the sunshine turned her hair
+to gold.
+
+Celia went back to her work. "It will all come right in the end,"--this
+was what Morgan had told her yesterday; it was strange that this child
+should cross her path again, and with the same message.
+
+"Even people who hated each other came to be friends in the Forest." To
+travel always in the Forest! How restful the idea! How would it seem not
+to hate anybody? To be really at peace? But it was not possible for her.
+
+Her thoughts would persist in dwelling upon Rosalind Whittredge. Again she
+recalled with shame the impulse that made her scorn the rose. She was
+glad she had picked it up and carried it home. Why should she have any
+feeling against Patterson Whittredge's daughter? Had not her father taken
+Patterson's side in the family trouble over his marriage? Ah, but that was
+long ago, and it was hard to forget that Rosalind, with her sweet, serious
+eyes, was after all Mrs. Whittredge's granddaughter, Genevieve's niece.
+
+"I wish she wasn't, and that I could see her and speak to her, and ask her
+what she means by the Forest," she thought. "She is gentle and sweet; she
+is not like the Whittredges. Why should I dislike her because she belongs
+to them? Oh, it is dreadful to hate people!" Celia hid her face in her
+hands, "but I do--I do," she added.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FOURTEENTH
+
+THE ARDEN FORESTERS
+
+"Like the old Robin Hood of England."
+
+
+"Article I. This Society shall be called 'The Arden Foresters,'" read
+Maurice. "That will do, won't it?"
+
+"Yes; and then let's put the object. It doesn't come next in this, but we
+shan't need so many articles," Rosalind answered, running her finger down
+the page of a blue bound book.
+
+The committee appointed to draw up a constitution for The Arden Foresters
+had set about it with great seriousness. Their surroundings may have had
+something to do with this, for their papers were spread out on the
+leather-covered table in the directors' room at the bank, immediately
+under the eye of a former president, whose portrait hung over the
+mantel-piece, while the large-faced clock on the wall gave forth its
+majestic "tick, lock."
+
+The blue book which was serving as a model, Rosalind had found on her
+aunt's table, and asked permission to use.
+
+"Well, then, 'Article II. The object of this Society shall be, To remember
+the Secret of the Forest; to bear hard things bravely; to search for the
+ring--' Anything else?"
+
+"Maurice, that is beautiful. Is there anything else?" Rosalind pressed her
+lips with a forefinger.
+
+"Belle wanted to have 'to help the needy,' or something of the kind."
+
+"The down-trodden," said Rosalind, laughing. "I don't like that, do you?"
+
+"Let's wait; we may think of something after a while. Where shall we meet?
+That might come next."
+
+"Under the trees at the Gilpin place, and when it rains we can go to
+Patricia's Arbor. What fun it would be to have a meeting in the rain!" A
+great pattering on the window-pane emphasized Rosalind's remark.
+
+Maurice wrote busily for a minute, looking up to ask, "What day shall we
+meet?"
+
+"Let's not say any day, and then we can do as we choose," Rosalind
+suggested, feeling that the restrictions of a constitution might be
+burdensome.
+
+Article III then read: "This Society shall hold its meetings at the Gilpin
+place."
+
+"Maurice, here are qualifications for membership. Ought we to have that?"
+
+"I don't know; what are they?"
+
+Rosalind bent over the book, "Let me see--'Intelligence, character, and--'
+such a funny word. 'R e c i p r o c i t y'; what is that?"
+
+Maurice looked over her shoulder, "'Rec--' Oh, I know, 'reciprocity.'"
+
+"What does it mean?" Rosalind asked.
+
+"I think it is something political."
+
+"Then we don't want it."
+
+However, as there was a dictionary in the room, it was thought best to
+consult it.
+
+"Here it is, 'mutual giving and returning,'" Maurice announced, when he
+found the place.
+
+"'Giving and returning,'" Rosalind repeated; "Maurice, look for 'mutual.'"
+
+"It means almost the same thing,' something reciprocal, in common,'" he
+said presently.
+
+"Then it means to do things for each other. I like that. Why couldn't we
+put that in Article II? It means 'helping.'"
+
+"How about qualifications, then?" asked Maurice.
+
+"I don't think I'd have any. We'll only ask the people we want."
+
+So reciprocity was added to Article II. As he wrote, Maurice laughed.
+"I'll bet they won't any of them know what it means," he said.
+
+"Then Article IV will be the watchword, 'The Forest,'" added Rosalind.
+"And, Maurice, don't you think it would be nice to choose a leaf for a
+badge? But perhaps we'd better decide that at the next meeting. Don't you
+think it is going to be fun?"
+
+Maurice agreed that it was, feeling sure Jack and Belle and Katherine must
+be impressed with the result of their afternoon's work. He had a new
+blank-book ready for the constitution, and on the first page he had
+already written: "The Arden Foresters--Secret Society," and at Rosalind's
+suggestion he now added the motto, "Good in everything."
+
+They surveyed it with pride, and Rosalind said, "I am just crazy to show
+it to somebody. Where is Katherine?"
+
+But Maurice thought it wouldn't be fair to the others to show it to her
+first.
+
+The rain continued to patter against the window. Rosalind sat with her
+elbows on the table, and her chin in her hands, watching Maurice as he
+folded the sheet of legal-cap paper on which the constitution was written,
+and placed it in the book.
+
+"Maurice," she said suddenly, lifting her eyes to the benevolent face of
+the bank president, "do you know Miss Celia Fair?"
+
+"Miss Celia? Why, of course I do."
+
+"Everybody seems to know everybody in Friendship. It's funny," Rosalind
+commented thoughtfully. "Then you can tell me just what sort of a person
+she is."
+
+"She is tip-top; I like Miss Celia," Maurice replied, with emphasis.
+
+"Do you think she is kind?"
+
+"Yes, indeed. The day I felt so badly about not going fishing,--the day
+you spoke to me through the hedge,--she came in and sat on the step and
+tried to cheer me up. Oh, yes, Miss Celia is kind."
+
+"But do you think she would be kind to some one she didn't know?" Rosalind
+persisted.
+
+Maurice looked at her in surprise, she seemed so much in earnest in these
+inquiries. "How can you be kind to people you don't know?" he asked.
+
+"I'll tell you about it if you won't tell. You see I am not quite sure."
+Then Rosalind told the incident of her meeting with Miss Fair in the
+cemetery. "She looked pleasant and as if she wanted to be friends at
+first, but she didn't say anything after I told her my name, and when I
+looked back, I am sure--almost sure--saw her throw the rose away."
+
+"Miss Celia wouldn't do a thing like that," Maurice asserted stoutly. "She
+couldn't have any reason for it; she doesn't know you."
+
+"Do you really think she wouldn't?" Rosalind asked, in a tone of relief.
+"You know there is a kind of a quarrel between her family and ours,--Belle
+said so,--and I thought perhaps that had something to do with it; but I am
+going to try to think I was mistaken about the rose."
+
+[Illustration: "LOOKING UP HE DISCOVERED HIS VISITORS."]
+
+While they talked the rain had ceased, and some rays of watery sunshine
+found their way in at the window.
+
+"Let's go to the magician's and show him the constitution and ask him to
+join," Rosalind proposed.
+
+Maurice was willing, and without a thought of the clouds they started
+gayly up the street. They were almost there when Rosalind said, "I believe
+it is going to rain, and we haven't an umbrella."
+
+"Perhaps we shall have to stay to supper with Morgan," Maurice suggested,
+laughing.
+
+"I had a very good supper there," said Rosalind. "I don't see why
+everybody should think it was so very funny in me to go."
+
+"No one else would have done it, that's all."
+
+When they looked in at the door of the magician's shop, he was busy with
+some scraps of leather. Around him were bottomless chairs, topless tables,
+and melancholy sofas with sagging springs exposed to view, and in one
+corner a tall, empty clock-case. With his spectacles on the tip of his
+nose and a pair of large shears in his hand, Morgan might have sat for the
+picture of some wonder-working genius. Looking up, he discovered his
+visitors, and a smile illumined his rugged face, as he waved them a
+welcome with the big shears. He was never too busy for company.
+
+"Come in, come in," he said; and jumping up he got out a feather duster
+and whisked off a chair for Rosalind, remarking that dust didn't hurt
+boys.
+
+Rosalind laid the book on the table among the scraps of leather, open at
+the page where Maurice had written the name of the society and the motto.
+Pointing to it, they explained that they wished him to join.
+
+Adjusting his spectacles, the magician carefully read the constitution.
+
+"The Secret of the Forest? What's that?" he asked.
+
+Rosalind pointed to the motto, whereupon he nodded approvingly, and went
+on. "Search for the ring--" he looked up questioningly; but when it was
+explained, he shook his head. "Stolen," he said.
+
+Reciprocity seemed to amuse him greatly. He repeated it several times,
+glancing from one to the other of his visitors.
+
+"Do you suppose he knows what it means?" Maurice asked Rosalind.
+
+The magician's quick eyes understood the question. "Golden Rule?" he
+asked.
+
+"Why, I did not think of that!" cried Rosalind.
+
+"Morgan has a lot of sense," Maurice replied, with an air of
+proprietorship.
+
+When he had read it all, the magician nodded approvingly. "I'll have to
+join because you have my motto," he said.
+
+"Then we have six members to begin with," Rosalind remarked joyfully.
+
+By this time it had grown dark again and the rain was beginning to fall,
+and while the magician, having a good deal on hand, continued his work,
+Maurice and Rosalind sat on the claw-footed sofa, regardless of dust.
+Curly Q. and Crisscross both sought refuge in the shop, and the latter
+proved himself capable of sociability by jumping up beside Rosalind.
+
+"Morgan really does make me think of a magician," she said, stroking
+Crisscross and looking at the cabinet-maker. "I saw a picture once called
+'The Magician's Doorway.' It was all of rich, polished marble, and you
+could look down a long dim passage where a blue light burned. Just at the
+entrance a splendid tiger was chained, and above his head hung a silver
+horn."
+
+"Was the horn to call the magician?" asked Maurice.
+
+"Yes, I suppose so; and you couldn't get it without going very near the
+tiger. Cousin Louis promised to write a story about it, but he never had
+time."
+
+A flash of lightning, followed immediately by a clap of thunder, startled
+them. Maurice went to the door and looked out. "It is going to be a big
+storm," he said.
+
+As he spoke the rain began to fall in torrents, hiding Miss Betty's house
+across the street from view. Suddenly a solitary figure with a dripping
+umbrella was almost swept into the shop.
+
+"Why, Miss Celia!" cried Maurice.
+
+"I began to think I would be drowned," she said, laughing breathlessly.
+
+The magician dropped his shears and took her umbrella.
+
+"You are wet; we must have a fire," he said.
+
+Celia protested. A summer shower wouldn't hurt. It was too warm for a
+fire. Rosalind meanwhile sat in the shadow, Crisscross beside her, the
+thought of the rose and of Aunt Genevieve's words making her hope Miss
+Fair would not see her. Her face was gentle; was it possible she could be
+unkind and disdainful?
+
+The magician came to the rescue. He didn't believe in quarrels anyway, and
+if he had considered the matter he probably would have argued that
+Rosalind could have no concern with those she knew nothing about; and
+observing her in the corner he said, with a wave of the dripping umbrella,
+"This is Mr. Pat's little girl, Miss Celia. You remember Mr. Pat?"
+
+Celia, shaking out her wet skirts, turned in surprise. As her eyes met
+Rosalind's she smiled. "Yes," was all she said.
+
+But after a while she came over and patted Crisscross, and said Rosalind
+must be a witch to have gained his affection so soon, and asked what she
+and Maurice were doing there, not as if she wanted an answer so much as
+just to be friendly.
+
+Rosalind felt a great relief, and her eyes were soft as she responded
+shyly.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER FIFTEENTH.
+
+A NEW MEMBER.
+
+"In the circle of this Forest."
+
+
+In Friendship the summer was never fairly ushered in until Commencements
+were over. When the boys of the Military Institute, a mile beyond the
+village, had yelled their last yell from the back platform of the train as
+it swept around the curve, and Mrs. Graham's boarders had departed,
+accompanied by their trunks and the enthusiastic farewells of the town
+pupils, then, and not before, Friendship settled down to the enjoyment of
+picnics, crabbing parties, and moonlight excursions.
+
+Going away for the summer was almost unknown in Friendship; a week or two
+at the shore or in the mountains was as much as any of its loyal
+inhabitants dreamed of. To the few who like Genevieve Whittredge found the
+place dull at any season, the warm days afforded a welcome excuse for
+flitting.
+
+After the final decision in the Gilpin will case Friendship drew a long
+breath and acquiesced in the inevitable. Arguments and discussion lost
+their interest, and something like the old peace settled down on the town.
+
+The Gilpin house and its contents must now be sold, but summer was not an
+advantageous season, and the sale had been postponed till early fall in
+the hope of attracting from a distance lovers of old furniture.
+
+Thus the place was left untenanted. Weeds ran riot in the garden, the
+grass crept stealthily over the walks, and the clematis and honeysuckle on
+the low stone wall mingled their sweetness in undisturbed luxuriance. The
+Arden Foresters were free to come and go as they chose, the only other
+trespasser being Celia Fair, who when her household tasks were done often
+brought her sewing to Patricia's Arbor, with the feeling that her days
+there were numbered.
+
+At the Whittredges' Genevieve was making her preparations to leave soon
+after the return of her brother Allan, who was looked for any day. Her
+mother's restless mind had taken a sudden fitful interest in some
+genealogical question, and welcoming anything that diverted her thoughts
+from herself had thrown all her energies into the subject, spending most
+of her time at her desk or in reading old letters.
+
+Rosalind was left to go her ways; if she appeared at meal-time, no
+questions were asked, Miss Herbert, indeed, shook her head at such
+liberty. A girl of Rosalind's age should be learning something useful,
+instead of running about the village or poring over story books. She could
+not know that with a certain old play for a textbook the children she
+thought so harum-scarum were learning brave lessons this summer.
+
+Rosalind was happy. The hours when she was not with one or all of these
+new friends of hers were few, and these she usually spent in the garden,
+which she was beginning to love, with a book. She had discovered some old
+books of her father's, given to him in his boyhood, with his name and the
+date in them, in itself enough to cast a halo over the most stupid tale.
+
+When the sun shone on the garden seat beside the white birch, there was
+another favorite spot in the shade of a tall cedar, where an occasional
+stir of wind brought the spray from the fountain against her face.
+
+Yes, in spite of the puzzles, Rosalind was beginning to love Friendship.
+It was weeks since Great-uncle Allan had seemed to frown on her, and even
+the griffins wore a friendlier look; as for the rose, she had come to
+doubt the evidence of her own eyes since that afternoon at the magician's
+when Miss Fair had shown such friendliness.
+
+The summer so dreary in prospect to Maurice bade fair to be endurable
+after all. Rosalind's gray eyes, now merry, now serious, but always
+seeking the good in things, her contagious belief in the Forest, had
+stirred his manliness, making him conscious of his fretfulness, and then
+ashamed. His mother, who had dreaded the long holiday, wondered at his
+content. Katherine wondered a little too. The Forest of Arden made a very
+nice game, and it was pleasant to have Maurice in a good humor, but she
+did not quite understand the connection.
+
+Soon after the close of school Colonel Parton took his two older boys away
+on a western trip, leaving Jack with no resource but Maurice and the
+girls. The two boys were great chums, and as Maurice's knee made active
+sports impossible, Jack, too, gave them up for the most part.
+
+As for Belle, her indifference to Rosalind had turned into ardent
+admiration. She and Charlotte Ellis had a sharp dispute over the
+new-comer. Charlotte confessed she was disappointed in her, and pronounced
+her odd, all of which Belle deeply resented, the result being a decided
+coolness between them.
+
+"I am as glad as I can be Charlotte is going away this summer," she was
+heard to remark.
+
+"She can't be as glad as I am that we aren't going to be in the same
+town," was Charlotte's retort when the speech was repeated to her.
+
+The cleverness of Maurice and Rosalind was duly impressed upon the other
+three when the constitution of The Arden Foresters was read, and after
+careful consideration it had been copied in the blank-book, and beneath it
+the members signed their names. The excitement of Commencement week being
+over, a meeting was called to decide on a badge.
+
+It had been decided that any member might call a meeting, and the method
+was suggested by Belle. In each garden a spot was selected,--an althea
+bush at the Partons', a corner of the hedge at the Roberts's, a cedar near
+the gate at the Whittredges',--in which the summons, a tiny roll of paper
+tied with grass, was to be deposited.
+
+On the morning appointed for this meeting of The Arden Foresters, Celia
+Fair, knowing nothing about it, of course, had just settled herself in the
+arbor with a cushion at her back and her work-basket beside her, when
+Rosalind looked in. She carried a book and a bunch of leaves, and she
+seemed surprised to find the summer-house occupied. Her manner was
+hesitating as, after saying good morning, she asked if Miss Fair had seen
+Maurice or Belle.
+
+"No; are you expecting them? Won't you come in and sit down while you
+wait?" Celia asked, noticing the hesitation.
+
+"I wonder what they have told her about me?" was her thought. It brought a
+flush to her face, and yet why did she care?
+
+Rosalind accepted the invitation shyly. "I must be early," she said. "I
+was to meet the others here at ten, but I went to drive first with
+grandmamma."
+
+"It is still ten minutes of ten," Celia said, looking at her watch. "Are
+you going to have a picnic?"
+
+"No; only a meeting of our society."
+
+"What sort of a society?" Celia asked.
+
+"A secret society," Rosalind replied, with a demure smile.
+
+"Oh, is it? That sounds interesting, but I suppose I can't know any more.
+What is your book? That isn't part of the secret, is it?"
+
+Rosalind slipped off the paper cover and laid the little volume in Celia's
+lap.
+
+The young lady took it up, exclaiming with delight over the binding of
+soft leather, the handmade paper, and beautiful type. It fell open at the
+fly-leaf with the inscription.
+
+"And Professor Sargent gave you this Lovely book?" she said.
+
+Rosalind's eyes shone at this tribute. "Cousin Louis gave it to me just
+before he and father started for Japan, and he wrote that about the hard
+things because I wanted so much to go with them and I couldn't," she
+explained.
+
+"Rosalind, what was it you were talking to Maurice about, here behind the
+arbor one day? I couldn't help hearing a little. It had something to do
+with a forest." Celia had dropped the book in her lap and looked at
+Rosalind with something that was almost eagerness in her lace.
+
+Rosalind thought a moment, "Why, did you hear us? I know now what it was,"
+and she turned the leaves and pointed to the paragraph beginning, "If we
+will, we may travel always in the Forest," then she added shyly, "You
+ought to belong to the Forest because of your name."
+
+"'So losing by the way the sacred gift of happiness,'" Celia repeated, her
+eyes on the book. "What do you mean by belonging to the Forest?" she
+asked, looking up.
+
+Rosalind seldom needed to be urged to talk on this subject, and she had a
+sympathetic listener as she explained the Forest secret, and told how it
+had helped her in the loneliness of those first days in Friendship.
+
+Celia was lonely and sad. She had held aloof so long in her proud reserve
+that now there seemed nowhere to turn for the sympathy she longed for, and
+Rosalind's little allegory, with its simple message of patience and hope,
+fell upon ground well prepared.
+
+"Oh, Rosalind," she cried, "show me how to live in the Forest!" and with a
+manner altogether out of keeping with the Celia known to most persons, she
+drew the child to her. "I wish you would love me, dear," she said.
+
+Rosalind's shyness faded away. She forgot about the rose, and Aunt
+Genevieve's words. Here was a new friend, one who cared about the Forest.
+She responded warmly to Celia's caress, and when a few minutes later the
+other Arden Foresters rushed upon the scene, the two were talking together
+as if they had known each other always.
+
+"Miss Celia, are you going to join our society?" asked Belle, the ardent,
+flying to her side and giving her a hug.
+
+"Don't stick yourself on my needle! I haven't been invited yet. Rosalind
+tells me it is a secret society, and of course I am dying to know about
+it."
+
+"Let's tell her," said Katherine.
+
+"Girls always want to tell everything," remarked Jack, causing Belle to
+frown upon him sternly.
+
+"The magician has joined," added Rosalind.
+
+"Then I don't see why Miss Celia can't. Do you, Maurice?" asked Belle.
+
+"Listen, Belle," said Celia, laughing, and without waiting for Maurice's
+reply, "there may be some difference of opinion as to whether I should be
+a desirable member or not; suppose you go over there under the oak and
+talk it over. Then if you want me I'll consider the question."
+
+This seemed a sensible suggestion, and the Foresters retired to the shade
+of the scarlet oak to discuss the matter. Jack had meant nothing but a
+fling at the feminine fondness for telling things, and was astonished that
+his remark could be supposed to reflect upon Miss Celia; and as no one
+else found any objection to the new member, they returned presently to
+inform her that she was by unanimous consent invited to become an honorary
+member of their society.
+
+"As honorary members aren't expected to do much, I'll consider it. Now
+please tell me about it. What is its name and object?"
+
+Maurice produced the book and read, "'The name of this Society shall be
+The Arden Foresters.'"
+
+"That sounds like Robin Hood, don't you think?" Belle put in.
+
+"'The object,'" Maurice continued, "'shall be to remember the Secret of
+the Forest, to bear hard things bravely, to search for the ring, and
+reciprocity.'"
+
+"What ring?" Celia asked, smiling at the queer ending to this article.
+
+"Don't you know? Patricia's ring. The one that is lost," Rosalind
+explained, sorting her leaves.
+
+"I fear it is a hopeless quest."
+
+"Maurice," Rosalind exclaimed, "that is the word we wanted,--the 'quest'
+of the ring. Let's put it in."
+
+"What does it mean?" asked Katherine.
+
+"A search," Celia answered.
+
+"Then why won't 'search' do?"
+
+"But 'quest' sounds more like the Forest," Rosalind urged.
+
+"More romantic," added Belle, adjusting her comb and tying her ribbon.
+
+"One word is as good as another if it means what you want to say,"
+insisted Jack. "They think they are so smart with their 'reciprocity,' and
+they got it out of a book."
+
+Rosalind glanced at him reproachfully. "We looked in the dictionary for
+the meaning," she said.
+
+"I see no objection to getting it out of a book. Most constitutions are
+patterned after others, and reciprocity is a good word. Is there any
+more?" Miss Celia spread her work on her knee and turned to Maurice.
+
+"Just the watchword 'The Forest.'"
+
+"I like your society very much and want to join if, as you suggested, I
+can be an honorary member. I can try to bear hard things bravely, and
+remember the Forest secret, although I haven't any time to give to the
+quest of the ring."
+
+"Then let her write her name under the magician's," said Rosalind,
+clapping her hands. "Now we have seven members."
+
+Maurice had his fountain-pen in his pocket, just as if he had expected a
+new member this morning, and Celia signed her name in the book beneath
+"C.J. Morgan, Magician."
+
+"He wrote that for fun, because Rosalind calls him 'the magician,'" Belle
+explained.
+
+"I haven't heard that old title for many a year," Celia remarked, as she
+waited for her signature to dry.
+
+"Now we have to choose a badge," said Belle.
+
+Rosalind spread out her collection of leaves. "We thought a leaf would be
+appropriate," she added. There were beech, and maple, and poplar, and oak
+in several varieties.
+
+"I think I should choose this," and Celia pointed to a leaf from the
+scarlet oak. "Not only because it is beautiful in shape, but because the
+oak tree stands for courage. A 'heart of oak' has become a proverb, you
+know."
+
+Rosalind's eyes grew bright. "I didn't think of its having a meaning. I
+like that."
+
+"And in the fall we'll have scarlet badges instead of green ones," said
+Jack.
+
+There could be no better choice than this, they all agreed; and Jack
+gathered a handful, that they might put on their badges at once.
+
+"On our way home we must stop and tell the magician about it," Rosalind
+said, as she pinned a leaf on Celia's dress.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER SIXTEENTH.
+
+RECIPROCITY.
+
+    "Take upon command what we have,
+     That to your wanting may be ministered."
+
+
+"Celia Fair, do you realize what you have done?"
+
+It was Celia who asked herself the question. She was suffering, as
+reserved people must, from the reaction that follows an unusual outburst
+of feeling. That had been a happy morning in the arbor; she had let
+herself go, had listened to her heart and forgotten her pride, and in the
+company of the merry Arden Foresters, the old joy of youth had asserted
+itself. The brightness had stayed with her for days; she had dreamed she
+could make a fairy tale of life, spending her hours in an enchanted
+forest, and now had come the awakening.
+
+It seemed destined from the beginning to be a day of misfortunes. She woke
+with a dull, listless feeling, and the first thing to greet her eyes when
+she went downstairs was the woolly head of Bob, the grandson of her sole
+dependence, Aunt Sally, waiting on the doorstep to impart the cheering
+information that granny had the "misery" in her side mighty bad, and
+couldn't come to-day.
+
+At another time it might not have mattered so much, for the boys were away
+from home, and breakfast for two did not offer any insuperable
+difficulties to Celia, but there were currants and raspberries waiting to
+be made into jelly and preserves. To complicate matters, Mrs. Fair had one
+of her severe headaches.
+
+The fruit would not keep another day, and Celia couldn't leave the house
+to go down the hill in search of help, even if she had known just where to
+seek it. After making her mother as comfortable as possible, she began on
+the currants with sombre energy.
+
+"May I come in, Miss Celia? Will you lend me a cup?" It was Jack who stood
+in the door.
+
+"Help yourself," she replied, "I am too busy to stop."
+
+"We want to get some water from the spring," he explained. "Aren't you
+coming over to-day?"
+
+Celia shook her head.
+
+Jack surveyed the piles of fruit. "Jiminy! have you all this to do?"
+
+"Yes; Aunt Sally is sick this morning, and it can't wait."
+
+Jack disappeared, leaving Celia to her gloomy thoughts, but ten minutes
+had not passed before he was back again, accompanied by the other Arden
+Foresters.
+
+"We have come to help," they announced.
+
+For a moment Celia was annoyed. She had made up her mind to be a martyr
+and did not care to be disturbed.
+
+"Indeed, you can't," she said. "I am very much obliged, but you would
+stain yourselves, and--"
+
+"Give us some aprons," interrupted Belle. "Mother lets us help her."
+
+Maurice added, "It is reciprocity, Miss Celia."
+
+Celia's ill temper wavered and went down before the row of bright faces.
+"Well, perhaps you may help if you really want to, but it is tiresome
+work."
+
+They did not seem to find it so, as they sat around the table on the
+porch, carefully done up in checked aprons, three of them at work on the
+raspberries, and two helping Celia with the currants.
+
+Each wore a fresh oak leaf, and nothing would do but Rosalind must run
+back to get one for Miss Celia; and there must have been magic in it, so
+suddenly did Celia's courage revive.
+
+"I feel better," she said, stopping to turn the leaves of the cook-book.
+"Let me see,--'boil several hours till the juice is well out of the
+fruit,'--Sally always lets it drip over night into the big stone jar. I
+shall have these currants out of the way by dinner-time. You are really a
+great help. I wish there was something I could do for you."
+
+"Tell us a story, Miss Celia," Belle suggested promptly.
+
+"I don't know any."
+
+"Something about when you were a little girl," said Katherine.
+
+Celia hesitated. "The only story I know is about a magician and a tiger,
+Rosalind's calling Morgan 'the magician' reminded me of it."
+
+"I love magicians and tigers," Rosalind remarked. "Do you remember the
+picture I told you about, Maurice? Do tell it to us, Miss Celia."
+
+Celia wondered afterward how she could have done it, but now she thought
+of nothing but her desire to please the children, so she began:--
+
+"Once there was a little girl who loved fairy tales and believed with all
+her heart in fairies, magicians, and ogres. In the town where she had
+recently come to live she had a playmate, a boy, who laughed at her for
+thinking there were such creatures in the world, and the two often argued
+the matter.
+
+"One day this little girl was sitting on the fence looking up at the sky
+and wishing something would happen, when she heard the boy calling her.
+She answered, and he came running across the grass and climbed up beside
+her, and with an air of great mystery told her he knew a secret. Of course
+the little girl was anxious to hear it, and of course the boy tried to
+tease her by refusing to tell. But by and by he could keep it no longer,
+and in tones of awe he whispered that he knew a magician who lived in
+their very town.
+
+"The little girl clapped her hands; for if her playmate believed in
+magicians, he must surely come to believe in fairies too.
+
+"The boy went on to explain that this magician appeared exactly like other
+men, so that few guessed his mysterious power. He lived in a house quite
+like other houses except that its door was painted black; but behind this
+door lay a tiger, always ready to spring upon any one who tried to enter.
+On this great tiger in some way depended the magician's power.
+
+"There had been a fire in the village recently, which, the boy said, had
+been caused by the magician, as well as certain other calamities, such as
+scarlet-fever and measles, and the time had come when this must be
+stopped. The boy claimed to have discovered--he did not say how--that the
+magician's tiger had three white whiskers, all the rest being black, and
+in these white whiskers resided all his power. If in any way they could be
+removed, he and his master would be harmless forevermore.
+
+"But how was this to be done? the little girl wanted to know, feeling
+deeply impressed meanwhile by the tragedy of the situation.
+
+"The only way, the boy replied, was to catch the tiger while he slept, and
+then--a snip of the scissors, and he could do no more harm. The little
+girl had some round-pointed scissors hanging from a ribbon around her
+neck, for she was fond of cutting things; she took them in her hand now
+and looked at them with a shiver as the boy added in a tragic whisper,
+'_We_ must do it!'
+
+"Although she was very much afraid, she never thought of objecting. It was
+her duty, and she had great confidence in her companion. He could do many
+things she couldn't do, and he was ten and she only six; so when he
+examined the scissors and said they would answer, without a word of
+objection she slipped down from the fence and trotted beside him.
+
+"It seemed quite natural that the way should be over fences and through
+back yards instead of along the street. They climbed rails and squeezed
+through hedges until the little girl was breathless and had not the least
+idea where she was, when she found herself in a narrow garden-path, on
+either side of which grew hollyhocks and sunflowers.
+
+"'There is the door,' the boy whispered; and--yes--at the end of the path
+she saw the black door.
+
+"'This is the hour when he sleeps,' the boy said, in thrilling tones,
+looking at an imaginary watch. 'We have timed it well. I will open the
+door softly, and you have your scissors ready; I will hold him while you
+cut off the whiskers.' The little girl's heart almost stopped beating, but
+she had no thought of running away.
+
+"They reached the door; the boy had his hand on the knob. He was opening
+it very gently--when something happened! He stumbled, or his hand slipped.
+It flew open and there before them stood the magician, brandishing a
+glittering sword, and beside him were the gleaming eyes of a tiger.
+
+"With a cry of terror the little girl fell all in a heap, grasping her
+scissors, shutting her eyes tight till all should be over. Then some one
+picked her up and asked if she was hurt, and slowly gaining courage she
+opened her eyes and looked into the kind face of Morgan, the
+cabinet-maker. At his side was Tiger, the great striped cat, and on the
+work-bench lay his shining saw. The boy stood by, laughing."
+
+"I thought he must be fooling her," remarked Katherine, in a tone of
+relief.
+
+"You don't mean it!" said Maurice, with fine sarcasm.
+
+"But finish, Miss Celia," begged Rosalind. "What did the little girl
+think?"
+
+"I believe for a long time she was greatly puzzled. There seemed to have
+been magic somewhere. She examined Tiger's whiskers and found them all
+black, and this made her think it possible that some one else had cut out
+the white ones, and thus turned him into a harmless cat. She felt a little
+uneasy at times, for fear the cabinet-maker would turn again into the
+wicked magician, but it never happened."
+
+"And did she go on believing in fairies?" Rosalind asked.
+
+"Oh, yes, for a while. I am not sure she doesn't yet."
+
+"Cousin Louis says that is one of the advantages of the 'Forest of Arden,'
+you can believe in all those delightful things."
+
+"Were there fairies there?" asked Belle. "I don't remember any."
+
+"There would have been if occasion had called for them," Celia answered.
+
+"But you don't want to believe things if they aren't true, do you?"
+Katherine looked puzzled. "I wish there were fairies now, but I know there
+aren't."
+
+"You can't prove there aren't," asserted Jack, mischievously.
+
+"Why, Jack, you know there aren't any fairies really."
+
+"I said you couldn't prove it."
+
+"How can you say they do not exist unless you have seen one not existing?
+Isn't that the argument in 'Water Babies'?" laughed Celia, as she carried
+the currants into the kitchen. "It is the difference between fact and
+fancy, Katherine," she said, coming back.
+
+"I love to pretend things," said Rosalind.
+
+"So do I," echoed Belle.
+
+"Fancy does more than that, it really makes things beautiful. For
+instance, it makes the difference between a plain, straight letter such as
+you see in the newspaper and such a letter as I was embroidering
+yesterday. Some one's fancy saw the plain S ornamented with curving lines
+and sprays of flowers, and so it came to be made so."
+
+"That makes me think of those beautiful books the monks used to make,"
+said Maurice.
+
+"The illuminated manuscripts, you mean? That word expresses what fancy
+does for us,--it illuminates the plain facts, and fills them with beauty."
+
+"Oh, Miss Celia, that is a lovely idea," cried Rosalind. "I must remember
+it to tell Cousin Louis."
+
+"I fear be wouldn't find it very new," Celia answered, smiling.
+
+By noon the fruit was all picked over, and as Celia stood at the gate
+watching her helpers out of sight, old Sally came laboring up the walk.
+
+"Law, honey, look like I couldn't rest from studyin' how you was gwine to
+git them berries done, an' I 'lowed, misery or no misery, I was comin' to
+help you," she announced.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER SEVENTEENTH.
+
+A NEW COMRADE.
+
+"I know you are a gentleman of good conceit."
+
+
+Rosalind and Maurice sat on the garden bench discussing "The Young
+Marooners," one of the story books found in the garret.
+
+"I shouldn't like to be carried off by a big fish as they were, but I do
+think some sort of an adventure would be interesting. Don't you?" asked
+Rosalind.
+
+"We'll have to do something," Maurice agreed, "Don't you wish we could get
+inside the Gilpin house? Mr. Wells, the teller in our bank, sleeps there.
+I wish he would drop the key."
+
+"Grandmamma says it will be open for people to go through before the sale,
+but then it will be too late to look for the ring. Belle is so good at
+thinking of things, I wish she would find a way for us to get in,"
+Rosalind added.
+
+A bell was heard ringing on the other side of the hedge, and Maurice
+rose. "Dinner is ready," he said.
+
+Rosalind walked to the gate with him. "Uncle Allan is coming to-morrow,"
+she remarked, "and I just wonder what he is like."
+
+Turning toward the house again, she became aware of a stranger standing
+beside the griffins. He was not waiting to get in, for the door was open
+behind him, and furthermore he had the air of being at home. Something in
+his height and the breadth of his shoulders suggested her father, and as
+she drew nearer a certain resemblance to Aunt Genevieve developed.
+
+He watched her approach with a look of puzzled interest. "Surely, this
+isn't Rosalind," he said.
+
+Rosalind paused on the bottom step. "Why, yes, it is. Are you Uncle
+Allan?"
+
+"A great tall girl like you my niece? Pat's daughter? Impossible!" There
+was a twinkle in his eye. Clearly, Uncle Allan was a tease.
+
+"I suppose I shall have to be identified," said Rosalind, merrily.
+
+"I begin to see a look of Pat about you." He came down the steps now and
+took her hand. "Let's sit here and get acquainted," he said, leading the
+way to the bench under the birch tree.
+
+Two pairs of eyes, the brown and the gray, looked into each other steadily
+and soberly for a few seconds, then a dimple began to make itself visible
+in Rosalind's check, whereat the brown eyes twinkled again. "Well, what do
+you think of me?" they asked.
+
+"You aren't much like Great-uncle Allan," said Rosalind, laughing.
+
+"Heavens! was that your idea of me? And I expected you to be a child of
+tender age, although I should have known better. It is nearly fourteen
+years since Pat went away."
+
+"Uncle Allan, did you know my mother?" It was the first time Rosalind had
+mentioned her mother since she had been in Friendship. She could not have
+explained her silence any more than she could this sudden question.
+
+"I did not know her, Rosalind. I wish I might have. I saw her once, and I
+have never forgotten her face."
+
+"I can remember her just a little, but father and Cousin Louis have told
+me about her, and I have her picture."
+
+"I think," said Uncle Allan, confidently, "that we are going to be
+friends. Tell me how you like Friendship."
+
+"I like it now. I was dreadfully lonely at first, till things began to
+happen. Then there was Cousin Betty's tea party, where I met Belle and
+Jack and the rest, and now--oh, I like it very much! It is a funny place.
+Aunt Genevieve says you don't like it any better than she does."
+Rosalind's tone was questioning.
+
+"I believe it does seem rather a stupid old town," he acknowledged. "What
+do you find interesting about it?"
+
+"There is the magician and his shop; and the out of doors is so
+beautiful--almost like the country; and the houses are different from
+those in the city; and there is the will, and the lost ring." Rosalind
+suddenly remembered her uncle's connection with the ring.
+
+He did not seem to understand, for he asked, "What ring?" then added, "Oh,
+you mean the Gilpin will. Who has told you about that?"
+
+"Cousin Betty; and she told us the story of Patricia's ring, Uncle Allan,
+don't you wish we could find it?"
+
+Allan Whittredge smiled at the eager face. "I can't say I care much about
+it," he replied; then seeing her disappointment, he added, "It was a
+handsome old ring. Should you like to have it?"
+
+"I'd like to see it; but of course it wasn't meant for me. Cousin Betty
+said--" Rosalind paused, for the expression on her uncle's face was more
+than ever like Aunt Genevieve, and he exclaimed impatiently, "Stuff!"
+
+She felt rather hurt. She had expected him to be as interested in the ring
+as she was. What did he mean by "stuff"? And why didn't he like
+Friendship? Rosalind fell to pondering all this, sitting in the corner of
+the bench, looking down at her hands, crossed in her lap.
+
+After some minutes' silence she felt her chin lifted until her eyes met
+the gaze of the merriest brown ones, from which all trace of disdain or
+impatience was gone.
+
+"What are you thinking about so soberly? Are you disappointed in me, after
+all?"
+
+Rosalind laughed. "I am just sorry you don't like Friendship."
+
+"Perhaps it is because I have been away so long. I used to like it when I
+was a boy."
+
+"Can't you turn into a boy again?"
+
+"Perhaps I might, if you will show me how."
+
+Rosalind clapped her hands. "I don't think I am a bit disappointed in you,
+and I am almost sure you will like the Forest."
+
+"What forest?"
+
+"I'll show you the book and tell you about it sometime; and then maybe you
+will join our society."
+
+"This sounds interesting; I believe I shall like Friendship."
+
+Rosalind surveyed him thoughtfully. "I think I'll begin by taking you to
+see the magician," she said.
+
+By what witchery did she divine that the shortest path to his boyhood was
+by way of the magician's?
+
+"The magician? Oh, that is Morgan, I suppose." Allan's eyes rested
+absently on the drooping hydrangea a few feet away.
+
+Presently a soft hand stole beneath his chin, and Rosalind demanded
+merrily, as she tried to turn his face to hers, "What are you thinking
+about? Are you disappointed in me?"
+
+"Not terribly," her uncle replied, and seizing the hand he drew her to
+him and gave her the kiss of friendship and good-fellowship.
+
+Rosalind was fastidious about kisses. She reserved them for those she
+loved, and received them shrinkingly from those she did not care for; but
+in this short interview she had found a friend, and she returned the
+caress with an ardor of affection pretty to see.
+
+Martin, announcing lunch, interrupted their talk, and, hand in hand,
+Rosalind and her new comrade walked to the house. In the exuberance of her
+content, she patted one of the griffins as she passed. Her uncle observed
+it.
+
+"Have you ever noticed the resemblance between Uncle Allan Barnwell and
+the griffins?" he asked.
+
+The idea amused Rosalind greatly, and as she took her seat at the table,
+the sight of the haughtily poised head and eagle eyes of the portrait made
+her laugh. Things were indeed taking a turn when that stern face caused
+amusement.
+
+With Uncle Allan at the foot of the table, luncheon was transformed into a
+festive occasion. Masculine tones were almost startling from their
+novelty; Rosalind found herself forgetting to eat. Grandmamma was
+wonderfully bright, and Aunt Genevieve showed a languid animation most
+unusual.
+
+"It was like you, Allan, after putting us off so long, to end by
+surprising us," his sister said.
+
+"I trust you intend to stay for a while," his mother added, almost
+wistfully.
+
+Genevieve laughed half scornfully, as if she considered this a forlorn
+hope.
+
+Allan looked at her a moment before he replied, "I don't know; I shall
+probably be here some time." He had more than half promised his friend
+Blanchard to join him in a trip over the Canadian Pacific in August. At
+present he felt inclined to give it up and remain in Friendship. He would
+not commit himself.
+
+He thought it over lazily after lunch, resting in the sleepy-hollow chair
+by the east window in the room that had been his ever since he graduated
+from the nursery. All about him were devices for comfort and adornment
+that spoke of his mother's hand. She knew the sort of thing he liked,--his
+handsome, unhappy mother. It was a shame to leave her so much alone; yet
+she never complained, but seemed always self-sufficient and independent.
+
+And then Allan began to reflect on the singular fact that he was seldom
+quite at ease with his mother, although he admired her, and at one time
+had been very much under her influence. If he had ceased to care for his
+home, it was her fault for sending him away for so long. "Poor mother!" he
+thought. "We have all disappointed her; but she was never quite fair to
+any of us. She wanted us to go her way, and, being her children, we
+preferred our own."
+
+The sound of Rosalind's voice floated in at the window. He looked out. She
+was crossing the lawn, after an interview with Katherine through the
+hedge.
+
+"When are we to begin?" he called.
+
+"Whenever you like," she answered.
+
+He went down and joined her in the garden, thinking what a difference she
+made in the place. He had not supposed a girl of twelve could be so
+charming; but then, she was his brother's daughter, with something of her
+father about her, and he had felt a little boy's admiration for this older
+brother.
+
+Rosalind told him it was almost like having father or Cousin Louis to talk
+to; and as they wandered about the garden Allan found himself feeling
+flattered at her evident pleasure in his society.
+
+She brought out her treasured book to show him, and explained about the
+Forest; and Allan listened absently, noting the soft curve of her cheek
+and the length of the dark lashes, his memory going back to that one
+occasion when he had seen the gentle and lovely girl who was afterward his
+brother's wife.
+
+"And now we must go to the magician's," said Rosalind.
+
+Not many of the inhabitants of Friendship were abroad in the middle of a
+summer afternoon, and they had the street almost to themselves when they
+set out. The quiet, the bowed shutters, the deserted porches, suggested a
+universal nap. Allan looked up at the tall maples, whose branches met
+across the road just as they had done in his childhood. Truly, there was a
+charm about the old town, with its homelike dwellings and generous
+gardens, he acknowledged to himself. "I believe we are the only people
+awake," he remarked.
+
+"The magician will be awake," Rosalind replied; and so he was, rubbing
+down the clock case to-day, but by no means too much occupied for company,
+and he welcomed his visitors cordially, saying Allan was one of his boys.
+
+Rosalind was amazed at the ease and rapidity with which her uncle talked
+with the cabinet-maker.
+
+"Have you come home to stay this time, Mr. Allan?" Morgan asked.
+
+Allan laughed, and said he did not know about that.
+
+"Two--four--eight years--" the magician told them off on his fingers,
+shaking his head. "Too long. Take root somewhere, Mr. Allan; too much
+travel spoils you. Your father loved Friendship."
+
+"Yes," said Allan, gravely.
+
+"You make him join the society," Morgan said, turning to Rosalind.
+
+"He means our secret society," she explained. "He belongs, and he has our
+motto on the wall," and she drew her uncle to the door of the back room
+and pointed it out.
+
+"Oh, I remember Morgan's motto, 'Good in everything.' Does one have to
+subscribe to that in order to join this society?"
+
+[Illustration: "THEY CROSSED OVER TO SPEAK TO HER."]
+
+"That is one thing."
+
+"If there are many such requirements, I fear I shall prove not eligible."
+
+"Does that mean you can't join?" Rosalind asked, looking disappointed.
+
+"Well, I'll consider it. I'll try to be broad-minded and practise
+believing impossible things, like Alice."
+
+"'Six impossible things before breakfast,'" quoted Rosalind. "I am so glad
+you know Alice; but it was the White Queen, wasn't it?"
+
+"I shouldn't wonder if it was," Allan answered, laughing.
+
+They went out to the little garden to see the sweet peas and nasturtiums,
+and the magician insisted upon gathering some. While they waited Rosalind
+told her uncle about the time she took tea with him.
+
+When at last they left the shop, Miss Betty was standing in her door, and
+they crossed over to speak to her.
+
+"Well, Allan, I am glad to see you at last," she said, coming down the
+walk to meet them.
+
+"You do not appear to have pined away in my absence," he replied, shaking
+hands.
+
+Miss Betty shrugged her shoulders. "I was never much on pining, but my
+curiosity has been sadly strained."
+
+"What about?"
+
+"You know very well. That ring."
+
+"Now, if that isn't like Friendship," said Allan, laughing, as he followed
+her to the porch and made himself comfortable in one of the big rocking
+chairs. Rosalind sat on the step arranging her flowers and listening.
+
+"I would have you know I have something else to think about besides
+foolish and unreasonable wills and lost jewels," Allan continued. "I
+regret I cannot relieve the strain, but so far as I know, the ring has not
+been heard of and is not likely to be."
+
+"But if it should be found?" said Miss Betty. "Stranger things have
+happened."
+
+"Yes," said Allan.
+
+"Then the question is, do you know what you are going to do with it?"
+
+"That is a question with which I shall not trouble myself until it is
+found. I am a lazy person, as you know, Cousin Betty."
+
+"I know nothing of the sort, Allan. Now, there is one thing you might
+tell me. Do you know what Cousin Thomas meant, or was it one of his jokes?
+Yes or no."
+
+"No," answered Allan, promptly.
+
+Miss Betty looked puzzled; then she laughed. "It is like playing tit, tat,
+toe, to talk to you," she exclaimed. "I might have known you'd get ahead
+of me."
+
+"I have answered your question as you desired; now let's change the
+subject," he suggested gravely.
+
+Rosalind gave a gentle little chuckle. Miss Betty looked at her. "What do
+you think of your uncle, Rosalind?" she asked.
+
+"You certainly have the gift for asking pointed questions," Allan
+remarked, before Rosalind could speak. "I can tell you what she expected.
+She had an idea that I resembled Uncle Allan Barnwell."
+
+"Gracious! You must be relieved. I could have told you better than that."
+
+"I didn't really think it; I only wondered," said Rosalind.
+
+Miss Betty laughed in a reminiscent sort of way. "Do you remember him,
+Allan? But no, I fancy you were too little. He used to visit at our house
+when I was a child, and I was never so afraid of any one. I suppose you
+have heard the story of his wedding?"
+
+"I have a dim recollection of the story. Tell it to Rosalind."
+
+"Well," she began, "Uncle Allan was a minister, you know. A Presbyterian
+of the sternest stuff, rich in eloquence and power of argument, but poor
+in this world's goods. However, he judiciously fell in love with Matilda
+Greene, the only daughter of a wealthy Baltimore merchant. As was natural,
+Matilda chose for her wedding-gown a gorgeous robe of white satin, and all
+the preparations for the event were on a lavish scale. When the day came
+and the guests had assembled, and the bride in her beautiful gown and lace
+veil appeared before the eyes of the bridegroom, Uncle Allan created a
+sensation by sternly declaring that such a dress was inappropriate for the
+bride of a humble minister of the Gospel.
+
+"And the meek Matilda, instead of telling him he could marry her as she
+was or not at all, took off her satin, put on a simple muslin, and the
+ceremony was performed. Uncle Allan always referred to his wife as 'My
+Matilda'; and if the truth were known, I fancy she couldn't call her soul
+her own."
+
+"I remember the story," said Allan, laughing. "We come of a stubborn
+family. What would have happened if Matilda had asserted herself?"
+
+"He had her at a disadvantage,--the guests waiting,--but she missed the
+chance of a lifetime," said Miss Betty.
+
+"Was Matilda fond of him?" asked Rosalind.
+
+"Let us hope so; at any rate she always spoke of him as 'My Allan.'"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER EIGHTEENTH.
+
+AN IMPRISONED MAIDEN.
+
+    "The house doth keep itself,
+     There's none within."
+
+
+It was plain to Rosalind that for some reason her uncle did not wish to
+discuss the ring; nor did he seem to care whether or not it was found. It
+was also plain that he did not agree with his mother and sister on the
+question of the will.
+
+On one occasion when Genevieve made some scornful reference to the
+probable motives of those who upheld the later one, Allan exclaimed in a
+tone of irritation, "It is beyond my comprehension how you can have so
+much feeling in the matter. I have seen no reason to suppose the old man
+incapable of making a will. The testimony seemed to point the other way;
+and as nobody except the hospital had anything to gain by this last win,
+it strikes me as worse than absurd to impute motives of jealousy to
+people who were only giving their honest opinion."
+
+"It must be because we are not blest with your truly amiable disposition,"
+Genevieve observed languidly.
+
+A smile flitted across Rosalind's face; her uncle had spoken with a good
+deal of heat. Allan himself laughed. His fits of irritation usually ended
+in this way.
+
+"Well, it is all over now, and we may as well make the best of it. You
+shall have Patricia's miniature if I can get it for you."
+
+"Thank you," said Genevieve, really gratified. "I fear you do not know
+what you are promising."
+
+Rosalind wondered how her uncle felt in regard to the Fairs, and she once
+or twice mentioned Celia, watching him furtively meanwhile. There was,
+however, no shadow of a change in his expression, and he made no comment.
+
+A vast difference was made in the house by Allan's return. He stood in no
+awe of Miss Herbert, had no qualms about disturbing the drawing-room
+blinds or leaving the front door open from morning till night,--a
+Friendship custom which did not recommend itself to the housekeeper. A
+high cart and a swift-footed mare made their appearance, and Rosalind was
+often her uncle's companion on his visits to the farms belonging to the
+estate.
+
+Allan was continually expecting his interest in Friendship to languish,
+but it did not, and after a few weeks he gave up all thought of the
+western trip.
+
+The middle of July saw Genevieve on her way to the North, and a little
+later Miss Herbert went home on a holiday. After their departure peace
+settled down upon the house behind the griffins.
+
+The Arden Foresters found the summer days none too long. They still met
+Celia in the arbor now and then; and it was her stories of the Gilpin
+house, of the ring and the spinet, together with the constant sight of the
+closed shutters and doors, that led to an adventure one warm August day.
+
+"Important meeting at the oak tree this afternoon,--a discovery!" was the
+startling announcement Rosalind found within the grass-tied missive on the
+cedar when she returned from a drive with her uncle one morning. She could
+hardly eat her luncheon for eagerness to know what the discovery might
+be, and the sound of Maurice's low whistle further upset her.
+
+Mrs. Whittredge was rigid where table manners were concerned. Rosalind
+might not be excused until every one had finished; and to-day Uncle Allan
+dallied over his dessert, discussing business and the new mills with his
+mother, while Rosalind's impatience grew.
+
+She looked up despairingly at the stern countenance of Great-uncle Allan,
+and then at the placid smile of his Matilda, which seemed a rebuke to her
+restlessness. "I wonder what you did with your satin dress?" she suddenly
+remarked aloud.
+
+Grandmamma turned toward her in surprise, and Allan, deep in a description
+of the manufacture of a new kind of paper, looked at her blankly.
+
+"Do you think it is polite to interrupt?" asked Mrs. Whittredge.
+
+"I beg your pardon, Uncle Allan, I was just thinking. I did not mean to
+say it out loud," Rosalind explained, in great contrition.
+
+"Evidently you were not interested in my learned discourse," he said,
+with a terrible frown, which was not at all alarming.
+
+The diversion, however, caused him to remember his pudding, and in a few
+minutes Rosalind was free to join Maurice and Katherine at the gate.
+
+Belle, who had called the meeting, was waiting for them at the top of the
+hill.
+
+"I thought you were never coming," she cried; "we have made such a
+discovery!" And as they walked toward the house she explained that her
+mother had sent her that morning with a message to Miss Celia, and not
+finding her at home, she and Jack, who was with her, went over to the
+Gilpin place to wait. As they wandered about the grounds, something put it
+into Jack's head to try one of the cobwebby cellar windows, and lo! it
+opened. Poking their heads in, they saw it was over a stairway, which
+could be easily reached by walking a few feet on a ledge of stone.
+Delighted with the discovery, they scrambled in, and making their way up
+the steps found the door at the top unbolted.
+
+"Jack opened it and peeped into the hall, and then we were as scared as
+anything, and ran, and oh! we had such a time getting out. Now, what do
+you think of it? We can look for the ring really!" Belle paused, out of
+breath.
+
+"What fun!" cried Rosalind.
+
+"Just what we have been wishing for," added Maurice. "I have been trying
+to think how we could get in."
+
+Katherine was the only one who was not enthusiastic over the adventure.
+She hung back a little and wanted to know what Belle had been afraid of.
+
+"Oh, I don't know. It was so dark, and mysterious, and creepy; but it was
+such fun!"
+
+"We shan't mind if we are all together," said Rosalind, reassuringly.
+"We'll pretend we are storming a castle to rescue somebody."
+
+If it occurred to any of them that it might not be exactly right to break
+into a closed house in this fashion, the idea was quickly dismissed.
+
+Jack was watching for them, sprawled at his ease on the grass by the
+window. He was rather proud of having been the discoverer of it.
+
+In the heart of the country it could hardly have been quieter than it was
+in the Gilpin grounds that afternoon. Now and then some vehicle could be
+heard going up or down the hill, or the whistle of a canal-boat broke in
+upon the drowsy droning hum that was part of the summer stillness. There
+was no one to interfere. Even if Celia brought her work to the arbor, it
+was on the other side of the house, out of sight and hearing.
+
+The first obstacle the expedition encountered was the impossibility of
+Maurice's getting through to the stairway with his crutch. It was plain
+that it was out of the question, yet it was terribly hard to give up.
+There was a spice of daring in the adventure that appealed to him. For a
+moment he had a most uncomfortable sensation in his throat; and the old
+pettishness returned as he thundered at Katherine, in response to her
+reiterated, "You mustn't do it, Maurice," "I wish you'd hush. I know what
+I can do!"
+
+"We are dreadfully sorry, Maurice, but you can keep watch and give the
+alarm if any one comes," said Belle.
+
+Rosalind's oak leaf, as she stood before him, recalled him, and suggested
+that here was a hard thing to be bravely borne.
+
+"Go on," he said; "I'll wait for you here. I don't mind." His tone was
+almost cheerful. His ill temper came near getting the better of him
+however, when Katherine insisted upon staying too. Katherine couldn't
+understand that people sometimes did not want to be pitied; and she was
+not very anxious, if the truth were known, to join the exploring party.
+
+There was no way of escape for her. The others were too urgent, and
+Maurice did not want her.
+
+"There is an imprisoned maiden in the tower, and we are going to rescue
+her." As she spoke Rosalind pointed to the garret window.
+
+"What fun! Come on," cried Belle.
+
+Jack had already wriggled in.
+
+"It is rather dusty, isn't it?" Rosalind peeped in at the cobwebs
+doubtfully, but the thought of the imprisoned maiden overcame her dislike
+to dust. "Her name is Patricia," she paused on the sill to say.
+
+"And we are going to release her and restore her ring, which a wicked
+magician has turned into lead," added Belle, with sudden inspiration.
+
+"Why, Belle, I never thought of that. Perhaps it is the reason nobody can
+find it," laughed Rosalind, taking one step on the ledge and giving a
+little shriek of dismay.
+
+"You won't fall. Give me your hand," commanded Jack, with masculine
+confidence.
+
+The damp gloom of the cellar was rather frightful after the bright
+sunshine outside. No wonder Katherine crowded close to Belle and their
+voices sank to awed whispers. It was a relief to step out into the hall
+above, where the fanlight over the door made it seem less grewsome. The
+dust lay thick on the Chippendale table and chairs, and from its corner
+the tall clock looked down on them solemn and voiceless. There was no
+denying that it was scary, as Belle expressed it. What light there was
+seemed unreal, and the closed rooms when they peeped in were cheerless and
+ghostly.
+
+They stole about on tiptoe, keeping close together and talking in low
+tones. The library, where old Mr. Gilpin had been found unconscious and
+where the ring had last been seen, was the most ghostly of all. Belle
+paused on the threshold.
+
+"Let's go upstairs," she suggested. As she spoke she saw on the floor at
+her feet a ring of some dull metal, such as is used on light curtain-rods,
+but under the circumstances there was something a little startling in its
+being there.
+
+Jack seized it, "Here is Patricia's ring!" he cried.
+
+"Oh, Jack, hush!" whispered Belle, as his voice woke a hundred lonely
+echoes.
+
+"I'll tell you; let's take it to the magician--our magician--and ask him
+to break the spell," said Rosalind.
+
+"Oh, I wish you wouldn't talk so," entreated Katherine. "It makes me feel
+as if it were true."
+
+It was plain that nobody wished to be last on the way upstairs, nor was
+the post of leader very ardently desired, so they settled it by crowding
+up four abreast. In the rooms above they breathed more freely, and grew
+bolder as they wandered about, recognizing things Celia had described.
+
+"Do come here," called Belle, from a small room, hardly more than a
+closet, which opened from one of the bed chambers, "and see this funny
+picture."
+
+There was one window in this room, and the outside shutters had round
+openings near the top through which the light came. The others looked at
+the print, and then Rosalind returned to a work-table that pleased her
+fancy, Katherine following her. As Belle lingered, Jack, in a spirit of
+mischief, suddenly pulled the door to.
+
+"Jack! Jack! please let me out," she cried.
+
+"Why don't you come out, goosie?"
+
+"You have locked the door. Please, Jack!"
+
+"It isn't locked," Jack insisted, but when he tried to open it he found
+the knob immovable.
+
+"Maybe it is a dead latch," suggested Rosalind. "He is trying, Belle,
+really."
+
+"Are you sure you can't open it from the inside?" Jack asked anxiously.
+
+"Yes. I can turn the key both ways, but something holds the knob." Belle's
+voice was tremulous.
+
+"I am dreadfully sorry. What shall we do?" asked Jack, meekly, turning to
+Rosalind, after their efforts had proved fruitless.
+
+"Couldn't we open a window and call to Maurice? He would go for some one."
+
+Jack acted upon this and opened a shutter of the hall window, but when he
+looked out no Maurice was to be seen, nor was there any response to his
+whistle.
+
+"I'll have to go myself," he said, "unless you'd rather go."
+
+"No, Katherine and I will stay with Belle while you go," Rosalind
+answered, adding, "Jack, I think Morgan is working at the Fairs'. He could
+get the door open, I am sure."
+
+"All right," said Jack, but as he turned to go Katherine began to cry. "I
+am afraid to stay here," she sobbed, quite beside herself with terror.
+
+"Oh! what are you going to do?" came in a wail from the other side of the
+door.
+
+Rosalind and Jack looked at each other. "Take her with you; I don't
+mind--much," she said.
+
+Jack was disposed to argue with Katherine. "There is nothing to be afraid
+of. You ought to stay with Rosalind," he urged, but Katherine was beyond
+reasoning with her fears.
+
+"Never mind, if you hurry it won't be long, Belle and I can talk through
+the keyhole."
+
+Very reluctantly Jack left her, accompanied by the tearful Katherine.
+
+"Belle, you aren't afraid?" asked Rosalind, softly, as the sound of
+retreating steps grew faint.
+
+"Not v-ery," whispered Belle. "But you don't know how queer those holes in
+the shutters look--like big round eyes staring at me. I have tried to open
+them but I can't."
+
+"Belle, it is funny, isn't it, that there is an imprisoned maiden after
+all?"
+
+"Oh, Rosalind, I know how it feels now. It is awful!"
+
+"I think I know a little about it too," said Rosalind, sure that it was
+almost as bad to have that lonely, echoing house behind her as to be
+locked in. "Did you remember your oak leaf?" she asked.
+
+"Yes, and I am not going to cry. Rosalind, we might have let Maurice in at
+the door. Wasn't it stupid of us?"
+
+"Why, Belle! of course we might."
+
+Katherine and Jack meanwhile had made their way out, the latter requiring
+a good deal of help, for getting in was easier than getting out. Jack was
+very indignant with her for not staying with Rosalind, and treated her
+with a cold disdain most trying.
+
+As soon as she was in the open air, Katherine bitterly repented of her
+cowardice. She followed Jack meekly as he strode across the grass toward
+the Fairs', utterly ignoring her.
+
+A sound of voices came from the summer-house, and Jack looked in to
+discover Maurice talking to Miss Celia. He briefly explained the trouble,
+adding, "If Morgan is at your house, Miss Celia, I'll go for him."
+
+"I think you will find him. But what a thing for you children to do!"
+Celia exclaimed, "Who stayed with Belle?"
+
+"Rosalind. Katherine was afraid."
+
+Katherine, who lingered outside, shrunk back as he said this. Her tears
+began afresh. They all thought her a coward. She didn't want Miss Celia or
+Maurice to see her. She turned and ran away.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER NINETEENTH.
+
+OLD ACQUAINTANCE.
+
+"And there begins my sadness."
+
+
+Allan Whittredge, strolling up the hill toward the Gilpin place late in
+the afternoon, became aware of a dejected figure approaching, which
+presently resolved itself into Katherine Roberts, who paused every few
+minutes to press her handkerchief to her eyes.
+
+"Why, Katherine, what is the trouble?" he asked, when he reached her side.
+
+She stood still, not answering, and with her eyes covered. No one was in
+sight up or down the street. Allan drew her toward a convenient carriage
+block and, sitting beside her, asked his question again. His manner was
+winning, and Katherine, in great need of sympathy, sobbed, "They won't
+like me any more."
+
+"Who won't?"
+
+"Jack or Rosalind, or any of them," came in quivering tones.
+
+"Why, what have you done that is so terrible? I thought quarrels were
+unknown in the Forest."
+
+Katherine shook her head. "It wasn't a quarrel. I was afraid because it
+was dark,--and Jack said I was a coward. He told Maurice and Miss Celia
+so." The confession ended in more tears.
+
+Patiently Allan questioned and listened until he had a fairly clear idea
+of the situation. Then he spoke with cheerfulness.
+
+"You all ought to be dealt with for getting into such mischief," he said.
+"And now don't cry any more. Many a soldier has run away from his first
+battle-field. If I were you, I'd own up I had been a coward and say I was
+sorry. Do you want to come back with me, and see the end of this
+adventure?"
+
+Greatly comforted, Katherine dried her eyes and decided to go with Mr.
+Whittredge. Jack might not be so hard on her when he saw her under such
+protection.
+
+By this time Jack had found Morgan and brought him to the Gilpin house,
+where Celia and Maurice were waiting; and at Celia's suggestion he went
+in and opened the side door, thus making entrance easy for the others.
+
+"How silly not to have thought of letting Maurice in this way before," he
+exclaimed.
+
+The old house, a moment before so ghostly, now rang with the sound of
+voices as Rosalind, leaning over the stair rail, joyfully welcomed the
+rescuers.
+
+The magician had some tools with him, but be seemed puzzled at first as to
+what the trouble could be, when Celia said, "I know what the matter is.
+Belle, isn't there a little catch at the side of the lock that moves up
+and down? Try."
+
+"Yes," answered Belle, after a moment's investigation.
+
+"Then push it up," said Celia, but before the words were out of her mouth
+Belle had the door open and was being as warmly welcomed by Rosalind as if
+they had been separated for years instead of minutes.
+
+Belle was really pale from the trying experience, and had to wink rapidly
+to keep the tears of relief out of her eyes, while Celia explained the
+accident.
+
+"You see, when Jack banged the door the catch fell and kept the knob from
+turning. We have one that has given us a good deal of trouble." Then she
+put her arm around Belle and reminded her that the way of transgressors is
+hard.
+
+"But I wasn't doing anything wrong," replied Belle.
+
+"Everything came true, Maurice," Rosalind said merrily. "First Belle found
+a ring, and then the imprisoned maiden was rescued; but her name wasn't
+Patricia, after all."
+
+"I don't believe she wants to play the part again," said Celia.
+
+"Indeed, I don't," answered Belle. "Here is the enchanted ring, Rosalind.
+Ask the magician to break the spell."
+
+"What children you are!" Celia laughed, and her face was full of
+brightness as she descended the stairs with Belle beside her, the others
+following. Three steps from the bottom she came face to face with Allan
+Whittredge and Katherine.
+
+Celia hated herself for her burning cheeks as she bowed gravely. One hand
+held her work big, the other was on Belle's shoulder; and if, us for a
+fleeting instant she thought, Allan was about to hold out his hand, he
+changed his mind. His manner was calmly, unconcernedly polite as he spoke
+her name.
+
+"Uncle Allan, what are you doing here?" called Rosalind.
+
+Under the chorus of greetings and explanations Celia slipped away. Her
+thoughts were in a tumult as she hurried across the grounds to her own
+home.
+
+Her mother was on the porch with a caller, and Celia took her seat there
+and went on with her sewing. The visitor remarked on her improved color,
+and Mrs. Fair looked at her daughter in some perplexity, Celia had been so
+pale of late.
+
+All the evening she worked with feverish energy, writing labels for fruit
+jars and pasting them on, until no shadow of an excuse remained for not
+going to bed.
+
+When at length she went to her room, it was to sit at the open window
+gazing blankly out into the darkness. She had been telling herself
+fiercely how silly and weak she was, but she had not succeeded in
+conquering her unhappiness. Now she resisted no longer.
+
+She had not met Allan Whittredge face to face before for six years,
+although since his father's death he had been frequently in Friendship.
+She had known it must happen sometime, and had schooled herself to think
+it would mean nothing to her, but instead it had brought back a host of
+vain regrets.
+
+She had been happier of late. Association with those light-hearted
+children had brought back something of her old hopefulness. That a chance
+meeting with Allan Whittredge could change all this, humiliated her.
+
+"You haven't any pride, Celia Fair. It was your own doing."
+
+"I had to do it; it was forced on me."
+
+"And a fortunate thing it was. Do you suppose he would care now? These
+years which he has spent out in the world--what have they done for you?
+They have turned a happy-hearted girl into a bitter, disappointed woman."
+So she argued with herself.
+
+Resting her head on the sill, she let her thoughts go where they would.
+
+"You are sure you won't forget, Celia? It is going to be a long time,"
+Allan had said. She was still a schoolgirl, and he just through college,
+and no one but her father knew about it. Dr. Fair had shaken his head, but
+he loved Allan almost as much as he loved Celia. Allan must do as his
+mother wished and go abroad. Time would show of what stuff their love was
+made, he said.
+
+She had been so happy. She had been glad no one knew. Her happiness was
+all her own.
+
+Then had come Judge Whittredge's illness, the trouble about the Gilpin
+will, and the cruel slander that had crushed her father. The brief letter
+with which she returned Allan's letters and ring, was the result of her
+bitter resentment and grief. In her sorrow over her father's death she
+told herself her love was dead, and for a time she believed it. Now she
+knew it was not so.
+
+"At least, I will be honest with myself. I do care. Perhaps I shall always
+care. Oh, it is cruel to come so near happiness and miss it. But it is
+something to have come near it.
+
+"O God, help me--" she prayed, "not to choose the desert way. I do not
+want to be bitter and hard."
+
+As she lay back in her chair, too weary to think; through her mind floated
+Rosalind's words, "Things always come right in the Forest."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was after dinner. The sun had set, leaving the sky full of opal tints.
+The delicate leaves of the white birch barely moved, so still was the air.
+The whir of the last locust had died away, and the soft splash of the
+fountain was the only sound, as Rosalind in her white dress flitted past
+the griffins and joined her uncle on the garden bench. He welcomed her
+with a smile, and smoked on in silence. They were too good comrades to
+need to talk.
+
+After a while Rosalind spoke: "Uncle Allan, do you know Miss Celia Fair?"
+
+"I used to."
+
+Silence again.
+
+"I like her very much. I think she is sweet, and she bears hard things
+bravely. Belle says, since her father died they haven't any money, so Miss
+Celia works, and the boys are troublesome, and her mother is ill a great
+deal."
+
+Another silence.
+
+"Uncle Allan, was it any harm for me to know her? Belle said there was a
+quarrel, and Aunt Genevieve said, 'We have nothing to do with the Fairs.'"
+
+As he flicked the ash from his cigar, Allan smiled at Rosalind's
+unconscious imitation of Genevieve's tone.
+
+"I see no reason why you should take up other people's quarrels," he said
+gravely.
+
+Then Rosalind told him of her first meeting with Celia, and the incident
+of the rose. "But I think now I must have been mistaken," she added.
+
+"Perhaps," said Allan, and again he smiled to himself in the twilight, so
+vividly did the story recall the occasional passionate outbursts of the
+child Celia, usually so gentle, so timidly reserved.
+
+That strange letter of hers had puzzled while it hurt. Far away from the
+scene of the trouble, he could not understand the bitterness of the
+strife. That for a village quarrel--some unkind words, perhaps--she could
+break the bond between them--was this the Celia he thought he knew so
+well?
+
+The wound had rankled, but after a time he told himself it was for the
+best. Travel and study had broadened and matured him, and he could smile
+now as he recognized, what was unsuspected at the time, that his mother
+had planned these years of absence in the determination to cure him of a
+boyish fancy which her eyes had been keen enough to detect.
+
+And yet--his thought would dwell upon her as she stood on the step, her
+arm around Belle, the laughter fading from her face. Not the little
+schoolgirl, but a woman, gracious and tender.
+
+Rosalind danced away to join Maurice and Katherine, whose humble penitence
+had restored her to favor; and over the hedge came the sound of their
+voices singing an old tune. On the still night air, in their clear treble,
+the words carried distinctly:--
+
+    "Should auld acquaintance be forgot?"--
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWENTIETH.
+
+THE SPINET.
+
+"Thou art not for the fashion of these times."
+
+
+"Where are you going to put it, Celia?" asked Mrs. Fair.
+
+"In Saint Cecilia's room, I suppose," her daughter replied. Her father had
+given this name to the sitting room which was her own special property,
+and in which she would have nothing that was not associated in some way
+with her great-grandmother.
+
+"I don't believe you ever enter it now," Mrs. Fair continued
+discontentedly.
+
+"The spinet won't mind that; it is used to being alone," Celia answered
+cheerfully, standing before the mirror, fastening an oak leaf on her
+dress. It reminded her that even if her heart was heavy and her life full
+of difficulties, she could still be courageous.
+
+"Things are sure to come right in the Forest," she had said to herself
+again and again. Not because she believed it, but because she longed to,
+and sometimes she did believe it,--just for a little while,--as she looked
+from Patricia's Arbor across to that bit of sunny road.
+
+Since the adventure of the Arden Foresters the cellar windows of the
+Gilpin house had been securely fastened, and its bolts and bars made proof
+against more experienced house breakers than they. And now preparations
+for the sale became evident. Circulars containing an inventory of the
+things to be disposed of were spread abroad, and it was known that the
+proprietor of the new mills, a stranger in Friendship, had been through
+the house with the idea of purchasing.
+
+As she unlocked the door of Saint Cecilia's room, Celia could not help
+remembering the days when she had looked forward so happily to owning the
+spinet, and seeing it stand beneath her great-grandmother's portrait.
+
+From the cushioned window-seat, where there was a glimpse of the river
+through the trees, she had loved to survey the calm orderliness of the
+little room. At heart something of a Puritan, the straight-backed chairs
+and unreposeful sofa, the secretary with its diamond-paned doors and glass
+knobs, the quaint old jardinieres brought from China a century ago,
+pleased her fancy.
+
+How Genevieve Whittredge had smiled and shrugged her shoulders! In those
+days their half antagonistic friendship had not suffered a complete break.
+She must have color and warmth and lavishness, and Celia acknowledged her
+unerring taste and admired the beauty and richness Genevieve found
+necessary to her happiness, even while she returned contentedly to her own
+prim little room.
+
+It had been her dreaming place, and when dreams were crowded out by an
+exacting present, she had closed the door and turned the key. It was so
+much the less to take care of.
+
+"I don't see why Mr. Gilpin couldn't have left you some money," her mother
+said, following her. "It would be such a help just now. How are we to keep
+Tom at the university another year?"
+
+Mrs. Fair had a way of bringing up problems just when her daughter had
+succeeded in putting them aside.
+
+"I think we can manage in some way, mother. Don't worry," she said.
+
+"But some one has to worry."
+
+"Then let me do it," Celia answered, smiling.
+
+Half an hour later she was standing by the spinet, absently touching the
+tuneless keys, when a voice from the window startled her. It was Morgan,
+who with his elbows on the sill, was looking in.
+
+"Better sell it, Miss Celia."
+
+Sell it! The idea had never occurred to her. "What could I get for it?"
+she asked, going to the window.
+
+"Two hundred--maybe more."
+
+Two hundred dollars would be a great help toward Tom's expenses, but to
+give up her grandmother's spinet? It took on a new value.
+
+"Let me have it to do over and I guarantee you two hundred dollars," said
+Morgan.
+
+"I'll think of it and let you know," was Celia's answer.
+
+"It seems like the irony of fate," she told herself, "to have to sell it
+almost before it is really mine; and yet when two hundred dollars lie
+within my reach, I can't refuse to take them. Poor old spinet, it is too
+bad to send you away. I shouldn't do it if I could help it; but you don't
+fit in with these times. Or rather, you are helping me out; that is the
+way to look at it."
+
+So it was that the spinet did not long keep company with the portrait of
+Saint Cecilia, its original owner, but was harked away to the shop of the
+magician and the society of the clock case and the claw-footed sofa.
+
+Here Allan Whittredge saw and recognized it one day, and questioned
+Morgan. Allan remembered the prim little sitting room, and how Celia had
+looked forward to owning the spinet, and it troubled him to think she was
+compelled to part with it. When he left the shop he went over to Miss
+Betty's.
+
+After talking for a while about other things, he asked, "Betty, is it true
+that Dr. Fair left his family with very little?"
+
+"True? Of course it is. Have you just found that out? Celia is working her
+fingers to the bone, and I wish I were sure those boys are worth it," was
+her reply.
+
+"How did it happen?"
+
+"Well, I don't think Dr. Fair had the best judgment in the world when it
+came to investments; at the same time, a lot of other people lost in the
+West View coal mines. His death was a great shock; I loved Dr. Fair."
+
+"I too," said Allan. "He was a good man."
+
+"I don't know whether you know it, Allan. Perhaps I ought not to tell you;
+but there was some talk of Dr. Fair's treatment having done your father
+harm. I really believe your mother was out of her mind with anxiety, and
+you know she disliked the doctor. He was dismissed, you remember; and this
+was whispered about and exaggerated until I think it almost broke his
+heart. Of course there was no truth in it--that was made clear in the
+end--and his death put a stop to the talk, for everybody loved and
+respected Dr. Fair; but it has been terribly hard on Celia."
+
+Allan sat looking at Miss Betty absently. "Terribly hard on Celia,"--the
+words repeated themselves over and over in his mind.
+
+"This is the first I ever heard of it," he said at length.
+
+Miss Betty watched him as he walked away. "As usual I have been minding
+some one else's business," she said to herself; "but he ought to know it.
+Allan is a fine fellow."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWENTY-FIRST.
+
+UNDER THE GREENWOOD TREE.
+
+"Must you then be proud and pitiless?"
+
+
+The book containing the constitution of the Arden Foresters lay on the
+garden bench. The Foresters themselves were spending the afternoon at the
+creek at the foot of Red Hill. All was quiet in the neighborhood. The bank
+doors had closed two hours ago, and Friendship seemed to have retired for
+its afternoon nap.
+
+Allan Whittredge unfolded the _County News_ and glanced over it, then laid
+it on his knee and gazed across the lawn with a thoughtful frown. The
+_County News_ presented no problems, but life in this quiet village of
+Friendship did. His talk with Miss Betty had brought him face to face with
+them. He was conscious now that his attitude had been one of complacent
+superiority. He had held himself above the pettiness of village life only
+to discover, as he admitted frankly, that he had been a conceited fool.
+
+His own indignation helped him to realize something of what Celia must
+have felt at the cruel affront to her father. And his silence all this
+while made him seem a party to it. It was an intolerable thought, but
+Allan was not one to brood over difficulties; a gleam of what Miss Betty
+called the Barnwell stubbornness shone in his eyes as he made an inward
+vow to find some way to convince Celia of his ignorance of much which had
+happened at the time of his father's death, and to gain from his mother an
+admission of her mistake. The question how to accomplish this, filled him
+with a helpless impatience.
+
+He took up the book that lay beside him and opened it. "The secret of the
+Forest: Good in everything," he read. "To remember the secret of the
+Forest, to bear hard things bravely--" He turned the leaves and saw under
+Morgan's straggling characters the once familiar writing of Celia
+Fair,--the firm, delicate backhand, so suggestive, to one who knew her, of
+the determination that lay beneath her gentleness. Did Celia believe there
+was good in everything? Surely not in all this trouble. Yet she was
+bearing hard things bravely, if all he heard were true. It hurt him to
+think of her carrying a load of responsibility and care. His own life
+seemed tame from its very lack of care.
+
+He closed the book with decision. His task was to unravel these twisted
+threads of hatred and misunderstanding, and he would do it.
+
+Meanwhile, he found time for other things. He began to cultivate the
+society of the Arden Foresters, and to be a boy again in earnest.
+
+Boating on the picturesque little river was one of the pleasures of
+Friendship. Jack Parton and his brothers owned a boat, the _Mermaid_; and
+Allan now provided himself with one, which he delighted Rosalind by naming
+for her. After this the _Mermaid_ and the _Rosalind_ might frequently be
+seen following the narrow stream in its winding course, making their way
+among water lilies and yellow and purple spatter-dock, between banks
+fringed with willows and wild oats and here and there a dump of cat-tails.
+What pleasanter way than this of spending the early summer mornings? And
+then to find some shady anchorage, where lunch could be eaten and the
+hours fleeted away merrily until the cool of the afternoon.
+
+With only three in each boat, it was light work for the oarsman; and as
+rowing was something Maurice could do, and as the girls liked to take
+their turn, it often happened that Mr. Whittredge had nothing to do but
+enjoy himself.
+
+Allan smiled sometimes to think how much pleasure he found in the society
+of these young people. He usually carried a book or magazine, but as often
+as not it was unopened.
+
+"I suppose the real Arden Foresters did not read books," he remarked one
+day as, after glancing through the pages of a late novel, he tossed it
+disrespectfully into the empty lunch basket.
+
+They had eaten their picnic dinner and were resting in easy attitudes on
+the grass,--Miss Betty not being present to mention spines,--in sight of
+their boats, swinging gently at anchor.
+
+"Not any?" exclaimed Rosalind, to whom the idea of no books was a dreadful
+one.
+
+"But they were in a story and were having lots of fun," said Belle.
+
+"And they found their books in brooks, didn't they?" added Maurice.
+
+"When you are having fun, you don't read so much, that is true," Rosalind
+said, burying her hands in the mass of clover blooms Katherine tossed into
+her lap. "We'll make a long, long chain, Katherine, and let it trail
+behind us as we go home."
+
+"Give me your experience," said Allan, stretched at lazy length, with his
+arms under his head. "Have you found that there is good in things
+invariably?"
+
+"I like Mr. Allan because he talks to us as if we were grown up," Belle
+whispered to Rosalind.
+
+"There is more than you would think, till you try." Maurice answered.
+
+"I think so. Uncle Allan," said Rosalind. "I shouldn't have had this good
+time and learned to know all of you, if father had not gone with Cousin
+Louis. He said if I stayed in the Forest of Arden, I was sure to meet
+pleasant people, and I have." Rosalind looked at her companions with a
+soft light in her gray eyes.
+
+"If it were not for you, we shouldn't be having half so much fun," said
+Belle, promptly.
+
+"I think you would always have a good time, Belle," answered Rosalind;
+"but I'm afraid if I hadn't come to know all of you, I couldn't have
+stayed in the Forest much longer, though the magician did cheer me up."
+
+"Then the idea is, that it is only when you stay in the Forest that you
+find the good in things?" said Allan.
+
+"That was the way in the story. Everything came right in the Forest,"
+Rosalind answered.
+
+"I believe," said Allan, "I should like to be an Arden Forester."
+
+This announcement was received with enthusiasm.
+
+"That is, if I understand it. 'To remember the Forest secret, to bear hard
+things bravely--'"
+
+"And if you are an honorary member, like Miss Celia and Morgan, you won't
+have to search for the ring," put in Belle.
+
+"The ring is found, and is waiting till the magician breaks the spell. You
+know, Uncle Allan, he has hung it on a nail in his shop, by the door, just
+as if he were trying really," Rosalind explained.
+
+"I think I shall ask to be taken on probation," Mr. Whittredge continued.
+
+"What's that?" asked Jack.
+
+"On trial. I might not do you credit, you know."
+
+The Arden Foresters refused to admit the possibility of this, and Belle
+and Rosalind began delightedly to enumerate their members.
+
+They rowed homeward slowly, for it was up stream, and as they went they
+unwound the clover chain, and let it trail far behind them until it caught
+among the reeds and was broken.
+
+When they passed the Gilpin place, on their way from the landing, a stop
+was made for a fresh supply of oak leaves from their favorite tree, and
+Rosalind pinned one on her uncle's coat.
+
+"I invite the Arden Foresters to meet with me to-morrow under the
+greenwood tree," said Mr. Whittredge, surveying his badge.
+
+"That's poetry, go on," said Jack.
+
+"I'll have to fall back into prose to finish. At the foot of Red Hill, at
+half-past seven P.M."
+
+"What tree does he mean?" asked Katherine.
+
+"Under the greenwood tree is a poetical figure," Mr. Whittredge explained.
+
+"It will be dark at half-past seven," said Jack.
+
+"Of course it will be, and that's going to be the fun," cried Belle.
+
+"There will be a moon," added Maurice, who was wise in such matters.
+
+"And what are we to do there?" asked Rosalind.
+
+"That remains to be seen," was all the satisfaction her uncle would give
+her.
+
+Anticipation was the order of the next day, and the hours of the afternoon
+rather dragged. At dinner Rosalind could not keep her eyes from the clock,
+while her uncle ate in his usual leisurely manner, smiling at her
+quizzically now and then.
+
+"It will not take more than twenty minutes to walk out," he remarked, at
+length, when the hands pointed to seven o'clock.
+
+Mrs. Whittredge looked inquiring.
+
+"We are to have a little moonlight party at the creek to-night. We shall
+not be late, Rosalind and I," Allan added.
+
+"You are making a new departure, are you not? A picnic yesterday, another
+to-night. You are really falling into the ways of Friendship."
+
+"I am only beginning again where I left off years ago, Rosalind is showing
+me how," Allan smiled across the table, this time a smile of
+good-fellowship.
+
+The August nights were cool, and Rosalind carried her cape with its
+pointed hood, when, the long ten minutes having passed, they set out.
+Maurice and Katherine were watching for them, and farther down the street
+the Partons joined them.
+
+Under the trees that grew so thick, it was already dim twilight, but when
+they reached the more open country react there was still a glow in the
+sky, and over Red Hill floated the golden moon, attended by a single star.
+On the little sandy beach beneath the bridge, where the water rippled so
+pleasantly over the stones, a fire was burning, and before it on a log,
+with Curly Q. by his side, sat the magician, whittling.
+
+"Is this the party? How lovely! What fun!" they cried, running down to
+join Morgan and be received by Curly Q. with ecstatic barks.
+
+The magician was evidently expecting them, for he at once began
+distributing pointed sticks.
+
+"What are they for?" asked Belle.
+
+This was soon explained. Mr. Whittredge produced a tin box from somewhere
+and proceeded to open it, and Katherine, who was next him, said,
+"Marshmallows."
+
+"Yes, this is a marshmallow roast," he replied; and fixing one of the
+white drops on the pointed stick, he held it toward the glowing embers.
+
+The others followed his lead without loss of time,--the magician and all;
+and Curly Q. sat erect and eager, giving an occasional muffled "woof" to
+remind them that he liked marshmallows too.
+
+The rose tints faded from the sky; the moon sailed higher; and the glow of
+the fire grew deeper. The Arden Foresters toasted and talked, and ate
+their marshmallows, not forgetting Curly Q., and were as merry as the
+crickets that chirped around them,--as merry, at least, as those insects
+are said to be.
+
+When it was really impossible to eat another one, they built up the fire
+for the pleasure of watching it, and sang songs and told stories, the
+magician, with his elbows on his knees, looking from one to another and
+laughing as if he understood all the fun.
+
+The glow of their fire and the sound of their voices could be seen and
+heard far up on Red Hill; so Celia Fair told them, emerging suddenly out
+of the darkness into the firelight. In her white dress, with something
+fleecy about her head and shoulders, she suggested a piece of thistledown.
+
+The children gave her a rapturous welcome and proffered marshmallows; the
+magician looked on smiling. Allan had gone in search of firewood. Celia
+had been up the hill to visit an old servant who was ill, and returning,
+with Bob for guard, had seen the fire and heard the voices.
+
+"At first I thought of gypsies, and then Rosalind's pointed hood suggested
+witches, and it was only when I reached the bridge that I recognized you,"
+she said; adding, "No, I can't stay. Bob is taking me home."
+
+"Do stay; I'll take you home, Miss Celia," said Jack, as Rosalind bestowed
+marshmallows on the grinning Bob.
+
+Celia hesitated, then turned, as if about to dismiss her escort, when
+Allan Whittredge stepped into the circle and cast an armful of wood on the
+fire. Celia retreated into the shadow. "I must go, dear," she whispered
+to Belle's urging.
+
+A chorus of protest followed her as she hurried up the bank. She had
+hardly reached the road when she heard her name spoken quietly, and
+turning, she faced Allan Whittredge in the moonlight.
+
+There was some hesitation in his manner as he said, "I can understand your
+wish to avoid me, and yet I am anxious to have a few moments' talk with
+you, now or at any time that may suit you." As he spoke, a sense of the
+absurdity of this formality between old playmates swept over him, almost
+bringing a smile to his lips.
+
+Celia spoke gently. "I think not. I mean I can imagine no reason for
+it--no good it could do."
+
+"But you can't judge of that until you know what I have to say. Something
+I did not understand has recently been made clear to me and--it is of that
+I wish to speak."
+
+"If it has anything to do with the--the difference between your family and
+mine, it is needless--useless. I cannot listen, I can only try to forget."
+On the last word Celia's voice broke a little.
+
+Allan took a step forward; "I do not think you have a right to refuse. You
+should grant me the privilege of defending myself against--"
+
+Celia interposed, "I have not accused you, Mr. Whittredge; there is no
+occasion for defence, I must say good night."
+
+Nothing could have been more final than her manner as she moved away
+toward Bob, who waited at a discreet distance. There was no uncertainty in
+her voice now, nor in the poise of her head.
+
+Allan stood in the road, looking after her retreating figure. He had
+bungled. If he had begun in the right way, she would have been compelled
+to listen. What could he do to obtain a hearing? After two years of
+silence he could not wonder at her refusal to listen to him now.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWENTY-SECOND.
+
+CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE.
+
+"I sometimes do believe and sometimes do not."
+
+
+"Belle!" called Mrs. Parton from the porch, addressing her daughter, who
+swung lazily to and fro in the hammock, her eyes on a book, "I can't find
+Jack, and I want you to take this money to Morgan. Your father reminded me
+of the bill just before he left, and I haven't thought of it from that day
+to this."
+
+"Oh, mother, can't--?"
+
+"Can't who? You know there isn't a soul to send but you, and I must have
+this off my mind. Manda is helping me with the sweet pickles, and Tilly
+has gone to camp-meeting."
+
+Belle rose reluctantly, tossed back her hair, and went in search of her
+hat.
+
+"Be sure now to get a receipt," Mrs. Parton said, as she gave the money
+into Belle's hands. "I am not afraid of Morgan, but the colonel is
+certain to accuse me of not paying it if I haven't a receipt to show
+him."
+
+Belle tucked her book under her arm and walked off.
+
+"Now, Belle," protested her mother, "why can't you leave that book at
+home? Don't let me hear of your reading as you go along the street."
+
+"I won't, but I like to carry it," answered Belle, patting it lovingly.
+She was deeply interested in the story, and begrudged the time it took to
+walk to the magician's. Once there, she decided she would stay awhile to
+rest and finish the chapter.
+
+The day was warm, and she strolled along in lazy fashion. The Whittredge
+house as she passed looked deserted. The front shutters were closed, and
+no one was to be seen. Rosalind had gone away with her uncle for a few
+days. Belle amused herself by imagining that Rosalind's having been there
+at all was a dream, and she succeeded in producing a bewildering sense of
+unreality in her own mind.
+
+Morgan was not in his shop, but that he had been there recently was
+evident, for his tools lay scattered about.
+
+After the heat of the street the shop was cool and inviting, and a corner
+of an old sofa offered itself as a desirable spot in which to continue the
+story. It stood against the wall, and with several other pieces of
+furniture before it, was a secluded as well as a comfortable
+resting-place. Belle settled herself to her liking and was at once lost in
+her book. She finished the chapter and read another, and was beginning a
+third when something aroused her. For a moment she couldn't remember where
+she was, then with a finger in her book she peeped around the clock case,
+which with a high-backed chair screened her corner.
+
+The magician stood in the middle of the room, with his back toward her,
+gazing intently at something in his hand. Belle was about to come out of
+her hiding-place when he stepped to the window, and holding the object up
+between his thumb and finger, let the sunlight fall upon it, laughing
+gleefully like a child over a toy.
+
+Belle drew back quickly. Was she dreaming still? She pinched herself. No,
+she was awake, and in the magician's shop, and the thing she had seen in
+his hand was nothing less than Patricia's ring! She had heard it
+described too often not to recognize it. But how came it in Morgan's
+possession? She sat still and thought.
+
+Meanwhile, after turning it over and over, and nodding and laughing to
+himself in a way that would have seemed rather crazy to one who did not
+know him, the magician disappeared into the back room, closing the door
+behind him. Belle seized the opportunity to steal from the shop. It would
+be easier to think out of doors.
+
+The little brown and white house across the lane was keeping itself
+to-day. Miss Betty had gone to the city, and Sophy was at camp-meeting, as
+Belle happened to know, so she went over and sat on the porch step beside
+a large hydrangea. She must decide what to do. She remembered very
+distinctly the circumstances connected with the disappearance of the ring.
+Morgan had been one of the last persons to speak to old Mr. Gilpin before
+the attack of heart failure that ended his life, but no one had dreamed of
+suspecting him. Could he have had it all this time?
+
+Belle felt ashamed of herself for the thought. If there was an honest
+person in the world, it was Morgan. She had heard her father talk of
+circumstantial evidence, and how easy it was to draw wrong conclusions.
+She was puzzled. One thing was certain, she had seen the ring in his hand.
+
+"Now, if he were really a magician, I might think he had broken the spell
+on the ring we found in the Gilpin house," she said to herself.
+
+She must go back and pay the bill; for if she did not, her mother would
+have to know the reason, and Belle was not sure it would be wise to tell
+her about the discovery. Mrs. Parton acknowledged frankly she couldn't
+keep a secret, and Belle was wise enough to see it wouldn't do to spread
+the news abroad.
+
+"I wish Rosalind was here," she thought.
+
+When at length she made up her mind to go back, the magician was at work
+and greeted her just as usual. Belle wondered if she had not dreamed it
+after all. While he went into the next room to make change and receipt the
+bill, she looked for the ring she and Rosalind had hung on a nail beside
+the door. It was gone. Had any one ever known such a perplexing state of
+affairs?
+
+The magician must have wondered what made the usually merry Belle so
+grave, for he asked if she was well as he gave her the bill.
+
+As she walked slowly homeward, she noticed a large, dignified gentleman
+coming toward her. He did not belong to Friendship, she knew, and she
+wondered a little who he might be. He looked down on her benevolently
+through his spectacles as he passed, and for a moment seemed about to
+speak. Belle quickly forgot him, however, for the ring occupied her
+thoughts to the exclusion of everything else. Even the story so
+fascinating an hour ago, had lost its charm.
+
+"Does your head ache?" her mother asked, seeing her sitting on the
+doorstep, her chin in her hand, her book unopened beside her.
+
+"No, mother; I am just thinking," was Belle's reply.
+
+She was trying to decide whom to tell. "I wish father was at home," she
+said to herself.
+
+She went to bed with the matter still undecided, and the first thing she
+thought of when she opened her eyes the next day was the ring. A
+conversation overheard between her mother and Manda, the cook, added to
+her uneasiness.
+
+"Miss Mary, did you know there was a 'tective loafin' round town?"
+
+"A detective? No, I did not. If there is, it won't make any difference to
+you and me," answered Mrs. Parton.
+
+"Maybe it don't make no difference to white folks, but looks like they's
+always 'spicioning niggers," continued Manda, with a shake of her head.
+"Tilly 'lows it's that thar ring of old Marse Gilpin's."
+
+"Hardly," said Mrs. Parton, with a laugh. Belle, remembering the stranger,
+wondered if it might not be true.
+
+Such talk among the servants of Friendship was nothing new. Since the
+first excitement over the disappearance of the ring, it had broken out
+periodically; but to Belle this morning it seemed a strange coincidence.
+Suppose some one else had seen the ring in Morgan's possession? And now it
+occurred to her to tell Miss Celia.
+
+On her way to the Fairs' she met the stranger again, this time in front of
+Mrs. Graham's school. He was looking about him with an air of interest,
+and as Belle approached he asked if this was not the Bishop residence.
+
+"It was," she answered, "but it is a school now."
+
+The gentleman thanked her and walked on.
+
+"I believe he is a detective," she said to herself.
+
+Celia was in her usual place in the arbor bending over a piece of
+embroidery, when Belle found her.
+
+"Miss Celia, I have the strangest thing to tell you," she began, and then
+unfolded her story.
+
+Celia listened in astonishment. "Why, Belle, it isn't possible--you don't
+think--"
+
+"Miss Celia, I don't know. I saw the ring, and I know Morgan isn't a
+thief, but I don't understand it."
+
+"No, indeed. Morgan, whom we have always known--who is honest as the day!"
+Celia was silent for a moment, then she said, "Belle, it seems to me the
+only thing for you to do is to tell Mr. Whittredge. The ring belongs to
+him; he will know what to do far better than we, and he will think of
+Morgan, too."
+
+"I would have told him, but he has gone away."
+
+"Gone?"
+
+Belle wondered a little at Miss Celia's tone; it was as if she cared a
+great deal.
+
+"I don't think he will be gone long. He took Rosalind with him," she
+added.
+
+"Then I should wait till his return. A few days more can't make much
+difference. You have been very wise not to mention it to any one."
+
+But when Belle told about the supposed detective, Celia laughed and said
+she had a vivid imagination, and that it was only a coincidence that the
+old rumors should be revived just now.
+
+As Belle went down the hill, feeling somewhat crestfallen and rather tired
+of the whole matter of the ring, she met Maurice and Jack. Jack had spent
+the night with Maurice, and now they were on their way to the landing to
+take some pictures with Maurice's new camera. They made no objection to
+her proposal to join them, so she turned back, feeling strongly tempted to
+tell her story to them; but she had agreed with Miss Celia that it was
+best not to talk about it until Mr. Whittredge's return, and Belle prided
+herself on her ability to keep a secret.
+
+The interest of deciding what view would make the best picture made her
+forget the ring for a while; but as they sat on the edge of the dock
+waiting to catch a sailboat about to start out, she suddenly said, "Boys,
+I believe I saw a detective this morning," and she described the stranger.
+
+"Why do you think he is a detective?" asked Maurice.
+
+"Well, you know they always wear spectacles and try to look like
+ministers," she answered confidently.
+
+"Pshaw! they have all sorts of disguises," said Jack.
+
+"I don't care, I'm sure he is one, and I think he is looking for the
+ring." Belle pursed up her lips as much as to say she might tell more.
+
+"You are trying to make us believe you know something," remarked Jack,
+with brotherly scorn.
+
+"I do. Something I can't tell for--well, for several days."
+
+"Who knows it beside you?" asked Maurice.
+
+"Just Miss Celia."
+
+If Miss Celia knew, it seemed worthy of more respect. "How did you find it
+out?" asked Jack.
+
+"I can't tell you. It is a mystery; but, boys, I want to keep an eye on
+that man and see what he does," Belle said impressively.
+
+"How about taking his picture?" suggested Maurice.
+
+"Just the thing!" Belle clapped her hands. "Let's go look for him now."
+
+Anything that promised some fun was hailed with delight. It had been a
+little dull in Rosalind's absence. When she was with them nobody was
+conscious of her leadership, but now she was away they were at a loss.
+
+They waylaid old Mr. Biddle, driving in from the country with a load of
+apples, and demanded a ride which he good-naturedly allowed them, and they
+drove down the hill in state. When they came within sight of the
+post-office, Belle clutched Maurice's arm. "There he is," she whispered.
+"Let's get out and wait for him. You have your camera ready."
+
+The obliging Mr. Biddle stopped his horse and let his passenger out. As
+for the stranger, if he had known what was wanted of him, he couldn't have
+been more accommodating. He came slowly down the steps of the post-office,
+and stood within a few yards of the doorway, where three giggling young
+persons had taken shelter. Maurice had time for half a dozen pictures if
+he wanted them.
+
+"He isn't a detective," whispered Jack, "I'll bet a dime he is a
+minister."
+
+"I said he looked like a minister," Belle retorted.
+
+"I am going to Burke's to get him to show me about developing," said
+Maurice, as the stranger moved away, "Wouldn't it be fun if we could have
+his picture to show Rosalind when she comes to-morrow?"
+
+"Is she coming to-morrow? Oh, I am glad!" said Belle.
+
+"Let's follow and see where he goes," Jack proposed, as Maurice left them;
+and Belle nothing loath, they dogged the steps of the supposed detective.
+She was both alarmed and triumphant when he was seen to turn into Church
+Lane, but all other emotions were swallowed up in surprise when, instead
+of crossing to the magician's shop, he entered Miss Betty Bishop's front
+gate.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWENTY-THIRD.
+
+THE DETECTIVE.
+
+"'Twas I, but 'tis not I."
+
+
+The next morning Belle and Jack awaited the 10.30 train, seated together
+on a trunk on the station platform. Celia saw them from the door of the
+express office across the road. Presently they recognized her and began to
+wave, and then Belle came flying over to tell her how they had taken the
+detective's picture and had afterward seen him enter Miss Betty's gate.
+
+"Why should a detective go to Miss Betty's?" Celia asked, much amused.
+
+"Why should he go if he wasn't a detective?" Belle demanded.
+
+"Why not? He may be an agent, or a friend," Celia suggested, laughing.
+
+A whistle in the distance left no time for argument. Belle flew back to
+the platform, where Maurice had joined Jack. Celia turned toward home.
+
+She was more perplexed over Belle's story about the ring than she cared to
+own. Not for a moment did she think Morgan had taken it; and yet he was
+getting to be an old man and she recalled something she had heard her
+father say about a certain brain disease that first showed itself in acts
+wholly out of keeping with the character of its victim. Could this be the
+explanation?
+
+It was a relief to know that it would soon be in Allan Whittredge's hands.
+That he would do the kindest, wisest thing, she never thought of doubting.
+
+She had heard with a sinking of heart that he had gone away, and she
+scorned herself for the sensation of relief when Belle added, it was only
+for a few days. Celia deeply regretted the way in which she had met his
+request to speak with her that night at Friendly Creek. Why could she not
+have listened quietly? In these days she was torn by conflicting feelings.
+The spirit of the Forest was slowly tempering the bitterness in her heart,
+but it sometimes seemed to her that her loyalty to her father was
+weakening.
+
+It was fortunate matters at home demanded her thoughts. Plans for the
+winter, getting the boys off to school, and the many small cares of the
+housekeeper left little time for brooding.
+
+At the station Belle, in her eagerness to be the first to greet Rosalind,
+had to be dragged back out of harm's way by the baggage master, as the
+long train swept around the curve.
+
+"You'll find yourself killed one of these days if you don't look out,"
+remarked Jack, descending from the trunk.
+
+But Belle gave small heed. "I am so glad you have come," she cried,
+seizing upon Rosalind almost before she had her foot on the ground. "Such
+lots of things have happened."
+
+"Aren't you glad to see me too?" asked Mr. Whittredge.
+
+"Yes, I am especially glad to see you, because I have something to tell
+you. Something I can't tell any one else."
+
+"Bless me! this is interesting. Just wait till I find my checks, and we'll
+walk up town together."
+
+Belle, however, was not destined to relate her story just then, for no
+sooner had they started out, she in front with Mr. Whittredge, and
+Rosalind and the boys following, than Mr. Molesworth joined them and began
+talking about the paper mills. There was nothing for her but to fall back
+with the others, and this was not without its compensation, for now she
+could have a share in telling Rosalind about the detective.
+
+"It's all nonsense. I don't believe he was a detective at all, but it was
+fun taking his picture," said Jack.
+
+"I'll have it to show you to-morrow," added Maurice.
+
+"Why don't you ask Cousin Betty who he is?" suggested Rosalind.
+
+Belle's deep sense of the mystery of things had kept her from thinking of
+this simple method of solving the problem.
+
+"Of course we might," she acknowledged.
+
+"I want to stop at Morgan's a moment," Allan looked back to say.
+
+At the magician's corner Mr. Molesworth left them; but as it was only a
+step to the shop, the secret still remained untold.
+
+Morgan seemed delighted beyond all reason at sight of them. He greeted
+Allan as if he had been away years instead of days; and tapping his own
+breast, he exclaimed, looking from one to another, "I am Morgan, the
+magician!" Then pointing to the nail where the children had hung the brass
+ring, he added, "I have broken the spell!" With this he disappeared for a
+moment into the back room, but he was with them again before they had
+recovered from their surprise at his strange manner; and now he held
+something in his hand which he waved aloft gleefully.
+
+Belle began to understand that all her anxiety had been needless.
+
+"What does this mean?" asked Allan, as Morgan put into his hand a little
+worn case.
+
+The children crowded around him as he opened it and disclosed the
+long-lost, much talked of sapphire ring. In his delight the cabinet-maker
+almost danced a jig, and continued to repeat, "I'm a magician."
+
+"It's found; it's found!" cried Rosalind.
+
+"And I knew it," said Belle.
+
+"Hello!" exclaimed Jack. "Was this your secret? Did Morgan tell you?"
+
+Belle tried to explain her discovery, but so great was the excitement
+nobody would listen. It was really beyond belief that Patricia's ring was
+actually in their hands. It was some time before they quieted down
+sufficiently to hear Morgan's story.
+
+He had begun work on the spinet several days ago, he said, and upon
+removing the top had noticed something wedged in under the strings, which
+upon investigation he found to be the case containing the ring.
+
+"But where is the other ring?" Rosalind asked.
+
+The magician laughed and said that was another story, and he told how the
+evening before the real ring was found, Crisscross had been seized with a
+fit of unusual playfulness, and jumping up on the chest, above which the
+ring hung, had begun to move it to and fro with his paw, presently
+knocking it off and sending it rolling across the floor. He darted after
+it under tables and chairs but apparently never found it; nor could the
+magician, although he searched carefully.
+
+"So the mystery is not ended yet. We do not know what became of the magic
+ring, nor how the real ring came to be in the spinet," Allan remarked.
+
+"It is exactly like a sure enough fairy tale," added Belle; and then she
+whispered her part of the story, turning her back to the magician, for
+fear he might see what she was talking about.
+
+"And how about the detective? Did you think he was coming to arrest
+Morgan?" asked Maurice.
+
+Belle looked a little shamefaced. "I didn't know," she said.
+
+Mr. Whittredge wanted to hear about the detective, and was much amused at
+her description of the taking of his picture.
+
+Rosalind as she listened held the ring in her hand--Patricia's ring. She
+had thought a great deal about Patricia, and this seemed to bring her near
+and make her more real--the young girl who had looked like Aunt Genevieve,
+only more kind.
+
+"Let's show the ring to Miss Betty! May we, Mr. Whittredge?" asked Belle.
+
+Allan did not appear enthusiastic over the suggestion, but he did not
+refuse, and followed the children at a distance as they raced across the
+street.
+
+"There's the detective now," cried Jack, at the gate.
+
+"Where?" the others asked breathlessly.
+
+"On the porch with Miss Betty."
+
+Sure enough, partially shielded from view by the vines, in one of Miss
+Betty's comfortable chairs, sat the stranger.
+
+"Why--" began Rosalind, stopping short, "it looks like--Why, Dr.
+Hollingsworth! I didn't know you were here!"
+
+At the same moment the gentleman started up, exclaiming, "Well, Rosalind,
+they said you were out of town. I am very glad to see you," and they met
+and clasped hands like warm friends.
+
+"Children!" cried Rosalind, turning to her companions, "this is our
+president, Dr. Hollingsworth."
+
+"And these are the young people who took my photograph yesterday," Dr.
+Hollingsworth observed gravely. There was a twinkle in his eye, however.
+
+By this time Mr. Whittredge had arrived on the scene and was introduced.
+
+"So this is the detective," he said.
+
+The culprits looked at each other and meditated flight, but changed their
+minds when Dr. Hollingsworth shook hands with them, and said he knew how
+it was to have a new camera and want to take everything in sight, and that
+he really felt complimented.
+
+Belle thought she wouldn't have minded, except for the detective part of
+it, over which Mr. Whittredge made so much fun.
+
+The ring was exhibited, and the whole matter made clear after a while, and
+Dr. Hollingsworth said he was glad to have figured in any capacity in such
+an interesting occurrence.
+
+"And how in the world did it get in the spinet?" asked Miss Betty. "I
+believe Cousin Thomas put it there himself, as a practical joke."
+
+Miss Betty might have been holding a reception that morning, so full of
+people did her small porch appear, and so continuous was the hum of
+voices.
+
+Dr. Hollingsworth, it seemed, had been in the habit of visiting in
+Friendship twenty years ago, and finding himself in the vicinity, he had
+made it convenient to call upon his old friends; but, as he said, things
+had been rather against him. His college friend, the Presbyterian
+minister, was away on his vacation, Miss Bishop out of town for the day,
+and Rosalind, he did not know where.
+
+"And so there was nothing for me to do but loaf about that first
+afternoon," he explained, "but little did I think to what dark suspicions
+I was laying myself open," and he smiled at Belle.
+
+"Cousin Betty, you never told me you knew our president," Rosalind said
+reproachfully.
+
+Miss Hetty laughed. "You see it had been such a long, long time,
+Rosalind--"
+
+"That she had forgotten me," added the president.
+
+"Oh, no, I hadn't," she insisted.
+
+They all felt that they should like to see more of him, and that it was
+too bad he had to leave on the five o'clock train. The last hour was spent
+with the Whittredges, and Rosalind and Allan accompanied him to the
+station. Here, while they waited, Rosalind had an opportunity to tell him
+about the society of Arden Foresters, in which he seemed greatly
+interested, and was saying he should like to belong, when the gong
+sounded the approach of the train, and there was only time for good-by.
+
+"I shall be in this part of the country late in October, and may look in
+upon you again," the president put his head out of the window to say, as
+the conductor called, "All aboard."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWENTY-FOURTH.
+
+AT THE AUCTION.
+
+"Assuredly the thing is to be sold."
+
+
+Although the September days were warm, it was plain that summer was
+departing. The flutter of yellow butterflies along the road told it, so
+did the bursting pods of the milkweed, and the golden-rod and asters,
+wreathing the meadows in royal colors.
+
+The potting of plants began in the gardens, housewifely minds turned to
+fall cleaning, the spicy odor of tomato catsup pervaded the atmosphere,
+and the sound of the school bell was heard in the land.
+
+It was always so, Belle groaned. Just when out of doors grew most
+alluring, lessons put in their superior claim. To be sure, there were some
+free afternoons and always Saturdays, but one did not want to lose a
+moment of the fleeting beauty.
+
+Rosalind missed somewhat the constant companionship of her friends. Mrs.
+Whittredge thought it hardly worth while to enter her in school for two
+months, but at the instigation of Miss Herbert some home instruction was
+begun. This Uncle Allan had no conscience about interrupting whenever he
+wanted Rosalind for a drive or walk. As yet he said nothing about leaving
+Friendship. A few brief sentences had been exchanged with his mother upon
+the subject that weighed most heavily on his mind.
+
+"Has anything ever been done, any step taken, to correct the unfounded
+report which got out at the time of my father's death, in regard to Dr.
+Fair's treatment of the case?" he asked abruptly one evening.
+
+The color rose in Mrs. Whittredge's face, and she looked up from her work.
+"I do not understand you. How do you know it was unfounded?"
+
+"For one thing, because I have taken pains to investigate. I saw Dr. Bell
+in Baltimore."
+
+"May I ask why this sudden zeal?" His mother went on taking careful
+stitches in a piece of linen.
+
+"For the reason that until a few weeks ago I knew nothing about it. Now I
+cannot rest till the cruel wrong has been in some measure righted."
+
+"And you conclude without question, at once, that all the wrong is on one
+side. But I should not be surprised. I have ever been the last to be
+considered by my children."
+
+"You are not quite fair, mother," Allan answered gently, touched by the
+unhappy bit of truth in this remark; "but I'll not defend myself more than
+to say that I am not judging any one. I only wish the wrong on our side
+made right." And he added, what he realized afterward had the sound of a
+threat, "Unless it is done, I can never call Friendship my home."
+
+Here it ended for the time.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+And now, after a week of rain, October began with perfect weather, and
+from the strangers who flocked to the auction, attracted by reports of
+Lowestoft plates and Sheraton furniture, were heard many expressions of
+delight at the beauty of the old town.
+
+For two hours before the sale began, a stream of people passed through
+the house, examining its contents, or wandered about the grounds, admiring
+the view and the fine beech trees. Friendship itself was well represented
+in the throng, but rather in the character of interested onlookers than
+probable purchasers.
+
+Miss Betty was there to watch the fate of her silver, and Allan Whittredge
+had brought Rosalind, who was eager to see for herself what an auction was
+like. She hung entranced over Patricia's miniature, which with some other
+small things of value had been placed in a glass case in the library,
+until her uncle told her if she would select some article of furniture
+that particularly pleased her, he would try to get it for her. This
+delighted her beyond measure, and after much consideration she chose a
+chest of drawers, with a small mirror above it, swung between two sportive
+and graceful dolphins. "The little dolphin bureau," she called it.
+
+[Illustration: "SHE CHOSE A CHEST OF DRAWERS."]
+
+The sale was to begin at eleven o'clock, and silverware and china were
+first to be disposed of. The long drawing-room was full of camp chairs,
+and the audience had begun to assemble when Rosalind entered and sat down
+in a corner to wait for her uncle, who was interviewing the auctioneer.
+Two rows in front of her she saw Miss Betty, with Mrs. Parton and Mrs.
+Molesworth.
+
+"Do you expect to bid on your cream-jug and sugar-bowl when they are put
+up, Betty?" asked Mrs. Parton; adding, "How this chair squeaks! I wonder
+if it will hold me."
+
+"I haven't made up my mind," was the answer. "It goes against the grain to
+give money for what is really mine already. I can't get over the
+impression that this is a funeral instead of a sale."
+
+"I wonder if the Whittredges will buy anything. I saw Allan in the hall,"
+said Mrs. Molesworth. She was a tall, angular person, with a severe
+manner, a marked contrast to Mrs. Parton, with her ample proportions and
+laughing face. "By the way, Betty," she continued, "what has become of the
+ring?"
+
+"I know no more than you."
+
+The entrance of several strangers and some confusion about seats, kept
+Rosalind from hearing any more of the conversation for a time. A portly
+man completely blocked the way, and she began to wonder if her uncle
+would be able to get to the chair she was keeping for him.
+
+When things were quiet again, she heard Mrs. Molesworth say, leaning over
+Miss Betty and speaking to Mrs. Parton, "Why, she was an actress, wasn't
+she?"
+
+"I don't see that that was such an insuperable objection," Mrs. Parton
+replied, "In point of family she was just as good as he, perhaps a little
+better. The colonel and I met a lady at Cape May who knew them well. This
+girl was left an orphan early, and through the rascality of her guardian
+found herself penniless at seventeen. She had inherited the artistic gift
+of her family, only in her it took the dramatic turn, and necessity and
+her surroundings all combined to lead her in that direction. Then just as
+she was making a success she gave it up to marry--" Another interruption,
+and Rosalind did not hear whom she married.
+
+Her uncle now managed to join her by stepping over the backs of chairs,
+and it was not long before the sale began.
+
+From the start it was evident the city people had not come to look on.
+Bidding was spirited, and Miss Betty's silver soon went "out of sight,"
+as Mrs. Parton expressed it.
+
+Rosalind was highly entertained, and whenever her uncle put in a quiet
+bid, as he did now and then, she held her breath, fairly, for fear he
+would not get what he wanted.
+
+To Allan there was an unreality about it all. It seemed so short a time
+since he and Genevieve and Celia had been children together, taking tea
+with Cousin Thomas and Cousin Anne. What a strange household the two had
+constituted in this old mansion, where their whole lives had been spent.
+As he thought of it, he felt he had an inkling of why Thomas Gilpin had
+done as he did. Perhaps he had felt it would be better to have a clean
+sweep, and thus make possible for some one a fresh beginning in the old
+place. A fine substantial house it was, needing only a few improvements to
+make of it, with its spacious, high-ceiled rooms and wide hall, a most
+desirable residence.
+
+Rosalind's voice recalled him. "May I come again this afternoon, Uncle
+Allan? They may begin on the furniture."
+
+The auction continued for three or four days. Rosalind became the proud
+possessor of the dolphin bureau; and her uncle obtained also the miniature
+of Patricia, for what seemed indeed an extravagant sum, but he had given
+his promise to his sister.
+
+At the close of the sale on the second day, Allan went into the library to
+examine some books. The throng of onlookers and buyers had dispersed; only
+the auctioneer's assistants remained at work in the hall. Purchases had
+been promptly removed, and the house already seemed dismantled and bare.
+
+Absorbed in his search for a volume not on the catalogue, but which he
+felt sure was somewhere on the shelves, he became aware of Celia Fair's
+voice just outside the door. The next moment she entered the library and,
+going to the fireplace, stooped to examine the andirons. She had not
+observed him. Should he go quietly out, or make one more appeal to be
+heard? Allan hesitated.
+
+With her hand on the high mantel-shelf and her head against her hand,
+Celia stood looking down on the vacant hearth. There was something of
+weariness in the attitude. What a delicate bit of porcelain she seemed!
+Allan had a sudden, illogical vision of a fire of blazing logs, and
+himself and Celia sitting before it.
+
+He moved out of the shadow and she saw him; but though she stood erect and
+tense in a moment, she did not, as he expected, hasten from the room.
+Instead, she hesitated, and there was an appeal in her eyes very different
+from the defiance of a few weeks ago.
+
+"I didn't know there was any one here," she said; adding, "Mr. Whittredge,
+I have wanted to have an opportunity to say that I regret my rudeness. I
+was unreasonable--I am sorry."
+
+The childishness of the speech went to Allan's heart. He was conscious of
+keeping a very tight rein on himself as he answered, "Do not say that. I
+can understand a little of what you must feel. But does it mean that I may
+speak now and tell you that only a few weeks ago I first learned the
+cruel, the unwarranted, charge against your father? I had not understood
+before."
+
+Celia lifted her hand as if to ward off a blow, but she did not speak.
+
+Allan continued, "My silence must have seemed like a consent to it. And
+now, can we not meet, if only for a few minutes, on common ground? Must we
+be enemies because--"
+
+"Not enemies--oh, no," Celia said, looking toward the door as if she
+wished to end the interview.
+
+"Then--you will think me very insistent--but there is something I must
+explain to you. First, won't you let me give you a chair?"
+
+"Thank you, I'll stand," Celia answered; she moved, however, to a table
+and leaned against it.
+
+"It is about the ring. You perhaps remember the wording of the will?
+Before I left home to go abroad, so long ago, when I bade good-by to old
+Mr. Gilpin, he said to me, with that odd chuckle of his, 'Allan, I want
+Celia to have the ring when I die,' I replied that I hoped he would leave
+it to you in his will. Again, as I was leaving him, he called after me,
+'Remember, Celia is to have the ring,' It escaped my mind until I heard of
+the will, then of course I remembered. I think he had a feeling that if he
+left it to anybody it should be to a member of our family, and yet he
+wished you to have it. Now we both know what the old man had in mind;
+but, although things have changed between us since then, the fact remains
+that the ring is yours." Allan took the little worn case from his breast
+pocket and held it out.
+
+Celia looked at his extended hand, and shook her head. "I cannot take it,"
+she said.
+
+"But it does not belong to me; you must take it. You put me in an awkward
+position by refusing."
+
+Celia's eyes flashed. "And how about my position if I should take it? Has
+not all Friendship been speculating about the meaning of the Gilpin will?
+Is not everybody wondering what you are going to do with it? What--" She
+paused, clearly unable to keep her voice steady.
+
+She seemed about to hurry away when Allan intercepted her. "Forgive
+me--wait--just a moment. I see now. I was unpardonably stupid. I am not in
+the habit of considering what people say or may think, but I can see it
+would not do. I seem to be always annoying you," he concluded helplessly.
+
+A faint smile dawned on Celia's face. "No one can help it; it is just an
+awkward situation," she said, and left him.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWENTY-FIFTH.
+
+QUESTIONS.
+
+"They asked one another the reason."
+
+
+Although the auction was over, the air of Friendship still vibrated from
+the stir. Bereft of its treasures, the Gilpin house stood an empty shell,
+facing an unknown future; for beyond the statement that he was from
+Baltimore, nothing was known of its purchaser.
+
+"Why in the world should a man from Baltimore want it?" Mrs. Parton asked;
+and the question was echoed on all sides. Not to live in, at all events,
+it appeared, as weeks passed and it remained undisturbed.
+
+Nor was this the only unanswered question. There was the ring. Miss Betty
+said it might as well have been left in the spinet, for all the good it
+did any one.
+
+Allan had his own unanswered question; without doubt his mother had hers,
+as had Celia Fair, but they gave no sign to the outside world, nor asked
+any help in finding an answer.
+
+And now came a new excitement. Dr. Pierce, the Presbyterian minister,
+announced impressively one Sunday that on a week from that day his pulpit
+would be occupied by his distinguished friend, Dr. Hollingsworth.
+
+It was explained that he had been South on business relating to a bequest
+to the university, and found it convenient to stop over on his way home.
+Still, with several large cities within easy reach, his presence was an
+undoubted compliment to the village, and Friendship began at once to
+refresh its memory in regard to its expected guest.
+
+Mrs. Molesworth came across the street to ask Mrs. Parton if she had ever
+heard Dr. Hollingsworth was not orthodox.
+
+Mrs. Parton had not, and seemed to consider it a minor matter, for she
+went on to tell how pleasant he was, and how fully he appreciated the joke
+of being taken for a detective by Belle.
+
+"I trust, indeed, it is not true," said Mrs. Molesworth, going back to the
+original question.
+
+"Well, I shouldn't worry, Cornelia. He is not likely to do much harm in
+one sermon," Mrs. Parton answered easily.
+
+Mrs. Molesworth shook her head. "You can never be sure. It is not for
+myself I fear, but for the boys. I have tried to protect them."
+
+"If your boys are like mine, they won't get any harm from a sermon. I do
+manage to drag them to church, but it is like taking a horse to water--it
+is another matter to make them listen."
+
+Mrs. Molesworth returned home feeling that Mary Parton treated serious
+subjects with undue levity. Mrs. Parton, seeing Miss Betty Bishop
+approaching, lingered at the gate.
+
+"Well, Betty, I suppose you know we are to have Dr. Hollingsworth at our
+church Sunday."
+
+She had heard it, but did not seem disposed to enlarge upon it, as was her
+custom with a piece of news.
+
+"Cornelia Molesworth is worrying because she has heard he is not
+orthodox."
+
+"She is not obliged to hear him, is she? Nobody can amount to anything
+nowadays without being accused of heresy; however, I fancy Dr.
+Hollingsworth can bear up under Mrs. Molesworth's disapproval."
+
+Mrs. Parton surveyed Miss Betty with a twinkle in her eye. "I declare,
+Betty," she remarked, irrelevantly, "you are growing younger. You look
+nearer twenty than forty this minute."
+
+"Perhaps it is my new hat," Miss Betty suggested; but surely she had
+passed the age when one flushes over the possession of a becoming hat.
+
+Mrs. Parton laughed to herself as she went back to the house, "Do you
+suppose that is why he is coming? Goodness! I wish the colonel was here."
+
+The news was discussed all over town that Monday morning.
+
+"What brings Dr. Hollingsworth here?" Dr. Barnes asked, meeting Colonel
+Parton in the bank. "He is a friend of the Whittredges, I understand.
+Anyway, it is a compliment to Friendship."
+
+"Friendship is a great place. He liked our looks when he was here a month
+or so ago," and the colonel laughed his easy laugh.
+
+"More than likely he thinks we need a little stirring up," Mr. Roberts
+remarked from his desk.
+
+"Did you hear the joke on my Belle?" the colonel asked, and proceeded to
+relate the story of the supposed detective and the photograph.
+
+The Arden Foresters in their turn talked it over that afternoon, sitting
+in a row near the red oak, which lavished badges of crimson and gold upon
+them now. The October air was delicious. They had raced up the hill and
+down to the landing and back again, for pure joy of moving in the
+sparkling atmosphere.
+
+"I have something to tell you," Rosalind announced. "You must all come to
+church next Sunday, for our president is going to preach."
+
+"Is that what you have to tell? because I knew it already," said Belle,
+whose cheeks matched the oak leaf she was pinning on her jacket.
+
+"No, it is something even better than that. I have a letter to read to
+you." As she spoke, Rosalind tossed a handful of leaves at Maurice.
+
+"That's right, wake the professor up," cried Jack, following her example.
+
+"Or bury him," said Belle, joining the onslaught.
+
+Maurice, who had been gazing rather absently into the distance, was
+aroused to defend himself, and the battle resolved itself into a
+hand-to-hand combat between the two boys.
+
+Maurice's crutch had been discarded, and his knee was almost as strong as
+ever, although rough sports, such as foot-ball, were still denied him. He
+had recently arrived at the dignity of long trousers, being tall for his
+age, and Jack had immediately nicknamed him "the professor."
+
+"Now, boys, that is enough," Rosalind said, with decision; "Maurice is
+waked up, I think."
+
+"Am I awake, or not?" Maurice demanded of the struggling Jack, as he held
+him down and sat upon him.
+
+"Mercy, yes!" Jack cried, freeing himself with a mighty effort. "But you
+must smile; I can't have you looking so melancholy. _Smile!_"
+
+In spite of himself Maurice obeyed the command.
+
+"That's right; now sit down and behave," Jack added, laughing.
+
+Rosalind took out her letter. "Listen," she said:--
+
+    "MY DEAR ROSALIND: I am coming back to Friendship in a
+    few days, and I want to ask if the Arden Foresters will admit a
+    new member to their circle? I am greatly interested in what I
+    have heard of it. I have been travelling in the Forest for a
+    good many years, with just an occasional lapse into the desert,
+    but I should like the right to wear an oak leaf and have my name
+    in the Arden Foresters' book, on the page with the magician's.
+
+    "Hoping that this is not asking too much, I am
+
+                               "Yours affectionately,
+
+                                     "CHARLES W. HOLLINGSWORTH."
+
+"Isn't that dear of him?"
+
+"Does he mean it really?" asked Maurice.
+
+"What is the matter with you, Maurice? Of course he does," cried Belle.
+"He is grand! The detective," and she laughed at the recollection.
+
+"Rosalind is going home before long, and I didn't know whether we would
+keep it up," Maurice said.
+
+"But I shall come back again next summer, and,--oh, I hope we aren't going
+to give it up!" Rosalind looked anxiously at her companions.
+
+"Never!" cried Belle.
+
+"No indeed," said Jack. "I am an Arden Forester forever."
+
+"A monkey forever," growled Maurice.
+
+"That is better than a bear, anyway," retorted Jack.
+
+"Maurice reminds me of the day I first talked to him through the hedge,"
+Rosalind remarked, smiling at him.
+
+Maurice laughed. "I was pretty cross that day. I don't mean that I want to
+give the society up, only we can't meet here much longer, and it seems as
+if our fun was nearly over."
+
+"It will soon be too cold to have our meetings out of doors; let's ask the
+magician if we can't meet there," Belle proposed.
+
+"What fun! I almost wish I wasn't going home. You must all write to me
+about what you do," said Rosalind.
+
+"We shall miss you dreadfully," Belle said, looking pensive for a moment.
+
+"But she hasn't gone yet, so what is the use of thinking about something
+that is going to happen, when you are having a pretty good time now?"
+asked Jack, philosophically.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWENTY-SIXTH.
+
+THE PRESIDENT.
+
+"--And good in everything."
+
+
+Friendship was without doubt a churchgoing community,--the different
+denominations could all boast of creditable congregations on Sunday
+mornings,--but on the occasion of Dr. Hollingsworth's visit, the other
+churches had a mere handful to divide between them, while at the
+Presbyterian church chairs had to be placed in the aisles. Such an unusual
+event afforded a pleasing variety in the customary Sabbath monotony.
+Something of a festive air pervaded the assembly.
+
+Celia Fair and Miss Betty Bishop, both deserters from the Episcopal
+church, chanced to be seated together. Rosalind's urgent invitation to
+come and hear our president preach, had brought Celia, and it was, of
+course, for old friendship's sake that Miss Betty was there.
+
+"Isn't that Mrs. Whittredge?" she whispered to Celia, as Allan with his
+mother and Rosalind passed up the aisle. "I don't know when she has been
+at church before." Then at sight of Mrs. Molesworth Miss Betty gave a
+slight shrug.
+
+A flutter of interested anticipation was noticeable when Dr. Pierce
+entered the pulpit accompanied by the stranger, and it must be confessed
+that the service preceding the sermon was gone through with perfunctorily
+by the greater part of the congregation. After the notices for the week
+had been given, there was a general settling back and recalling of
+wandering attention as Dr. Hollingsworth came forward and stood in the
+pastor's place at the desk.
+
+Mrs. Molesworth twisted her neck in an endeavor to see if he had notes;
+Colonel Parton decided promptly that here was no orator; Belle smiled at
+Rosalind across the aisle, thinking of the detective.
+
+In the president's gaze, as it rested upon the assembly, was the same
+genial kindliness that had attracted Belle when she first met him on Main
+Street. It seemed to draw his audience closer to him, to make of it a
+circle of friends. His manner was simple, his tone almost conversational.
+At the announcement of his text Celia leaned forward with a sudden
+conviction that here was a message for her:--
+
+"It is the Father's good pleasure to give you the Kingdom."
+
+Varied were the opinions afterward expressed of the sermon that followed.
+What Celia carried away with her was something like this:--
+
+"I shall speak to you this morning," he said, "upon a subject that touches
+each one of us very nearly, from the oldest to the youngest; for whatever
+our circumstances, whether we are rich or poor, learned or simple, whether
+our lot is cast in protected homes or in the midst of the world's great
+battle-field, our task is one and the same: to become citizens of the
+Kingdom of God. This being so, we cannot think too often or too much about
+this Kingdom, or inquire too minutely into its laws, or ask ourselves too
+earnestly why it is that so few of us accept the gift in anything like its
+fulness.
+
+"Although it is offered as a gift, there are conditions to be fulfilled,
+difficulties to be overcome. Our Lord recognized this when He said that
+the gate was strait and the way narrow, but He also said that this
+Kingdom was worth any price, or was beyond all price, to be obtained at
+any sacrifice. He emphasized this by a strong figure. It was better to
+enter into life maimed, He said,--with hand or foot cut off--rather than
+to miss life altogether.... The conditions of entrance into the Kingdom
+are apparently so simple it is strange we find them so difficult. I think
+they may be sifted down to two: love and faith,--the love from which
+service springs, the faith that means joy and peace. If we are to be the
+children of our Heavenly Father we must love, and we must have in our
+hearts that joy which grows out of trust.
+
+"Jesus said, 'Seek first the Kingdom of God.' If we do this we need
+concern ourselves with nothing else, and by concern I mean burden
+ourselves. The daily round--the vast machinery of life--must go on, but
+after all only he who belongs to the Kingdom is fitted to meet its
+problems. He brings to them a calm confidence, a clear vision. His heart
+does not beat quick with hate or envy. His energy is not weakened by
+worry. His sight is not dimmed by doubt.... Perhaps some of you are
+saying--what is so often said--that it is easy to preach; and you ask how
+one can cease to worry when the path is dark before him; how one can look
+upon the terrible problems of sin and suffering, and not feel their
+crushing weight. If what I am saying this morning were simply what I think
+about it, you are right to doubt. But these are not my words. Can you
+believe that our Lord when He told His disciples to seek the Kingdom and
+all other needful things would be added, was simply giving utterance to a
+beautiful but impracticable theory? For my part, I cannot.
+
+"I would ask you to notice that Jesus founded all he has to say on one
+great fact: the love of your Heavenly Father for you individually. Are you
+struggling with poverty, perhaps? Your Heavenly Father knoweth. Try, if
+but for a day, to put aside your anxiety and fix your thought on this. The
+things you need shall be given, and you shall find strength for another
+day of trust.
+
+"Have you been wronged? do you find it hard to forgive? are you bitter?
+Your Heavenly Father knoweth. He will take care of your cause. Leave it to
+Him; do not be afraid to forget it. Seek, ask, knock, that you may obtain
+entrance into the Kingdom of love.
+
+"Are you crushed by sorrow or physical pain? Your Father knoweth. Cease to
+fight against it. Come into His Kingdom. Suffering endures but a little
+while; and if you will have it so, out of it will come a diviner joy.
+
+"Is the world full of dark problems? Your Heavenly Father knoweth. It is
+His world. Your part is to do, not to despair.
+
+"Are you full of youth and hope and glad anticipation? Your Father
+knoweth. He made you so, and in a special sense the Kingdom belongs to
+you. The simple-hearted, the teachable, the joyous,--of such is the
+Kingdom. Enter in, and immortal youth shall be yours.... Oh, if I might
+help you to know the beauty, the joy, the peace of the Kingdom into which
+we may enter now and here, if we will. Yet we go on our way, oppressed by
+care, warped by envy and hate, our eyes blinded by what we call worldly
+wisdom."
+
+Something like this was what came to Celia; and as she listened, forgetful
+of her surroundings, it linked itself in her thought to the Forest
+secret.
+
+It was not so much the words as the aspirations they stirred,--the new
+belief in the possibility of high and joyous living, the new courage that
+thrilled in her veins. She was still under the spell when after the
+benediction Miss Betty asked, with a certain timidity, if she had liked
+the sermon.
+
+Celia looked at her blankly for a second before she replied, "Oh, so much!
+It was beautiful. I should like to know him." She turned away with a
+smile; she was not ready to discuss it yet. She wanted to think.
+
+"He held my attention, I grant, but I don't call it a sermon; it was too
+elementary,--it was nothing but a talk," she heard Mrs. Molesworth saying.
+
+"If it wasn't a sermon, it was something better," answered cheery Mrs.
+Parton.
+
+"Most magnetic speaker," the colonel was remarking to some one.
+
+And now Rosalind and Belle claimed Celia's attention, demanding to know
+what she thought of the detective; and she must come back to earth and
+listen and reply and enter into their gayety--an easier matter, to be
+sure, than responding to the comments of grown people.
+
+The next morning, on her way to class, Celia met Miss Betty and Dr.
+Hollingsworth walking up the hill toward the Gilpin house, and Miss Betty
+stopped and presented her companion.
+
+After some moments' chat about other things, as they were separating,
+Celia said, "I want to thank you, Dr. Hollingsworth, for my share of your
+sermon yesterday." Her face made it evident that this was no merely
+conventional speech, and the president looked down upon her benignly
+through his glasses.
+
+"I thank you for being willing to take any of my thoughts to yourself," he
+said.
+
+Celia now noticed for the first time that he wore an oak leaf, and she
+remembered with what delight Rosalind and Belle had told her of his wish
+to be an Arden Forester. "I believe," she added, laughing a little, "that
+I have the Kingdom of Heaven and the Forest somewhat mixed."
+
+"You will find when you have lived as long as I have that there are often
+many names for the same thing," the president answered, smiling.
+
+"And do you believe that things always come right in the Forest?" The
+wistful note in Celia's voice told something of her struggle.
+
+"It has been my experience so far on the journey. But, my dear young lady,
+the one way to test it is to live there."
+
+"I mean to," she said earnestly.
+
+Whatever the opinion in Friendship of Dr. Hollingsworth's ability as a
+preacher, he left behind him a most agreeable impression as a mere man, to
+quote Mrs. Parton.
+
+The Arden Foresters would not soon forget a tramp with him over Red Hill.
+They found him interested in everything, in a light-hearted, boyish way
+that made them overlook the fact that he was the president of a great
+university. When they stopped on the hilltop to rest and enjoy the view,
+he sat on the fence with them and talked foot-ball and cricket, and told
+stories of college pranks without deducing a single useful lesson
+therefrom. This was a surprise to Jack, for Dr. Pierce, who lived next
+door to the Partons, was fond of morals, and went about with his pockets
+full, so to speak.
+
+Before they knew it, they found themselves confiding to him their plans
+for the future.
+
+"You must all come to our university," Rosalind said, with decision,
+"mustn't they, Dr. Hollingsworth? Jack can study forestry, and Maurice
+can study law; and Belle and Katherine--"
+
+"I mean to study medicine if father will let me," Belle put in.
+
+Dr. Hollingsworth smiled upon the bright-eyed little girl, in whose every
+movement self-reliance and energy were written. "Don't be in haste to
+decide," he said. "There is sure to be something for you to do, and
+Rosalind and I shall be glad if, whatever it is, it brings you to our
+university."
+
+As they watched the president sign his name in the Arden Foresters' book
+that afternoon, there was stirred in each young heart an impulse to be and
+to do something worth while in the world.
+
+Meantime, the report spread that in returning to Friendship, Dr.
+Hollingsworth had had another object than merely to preach for Dr.
+Pierce.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVENTH.
+
+OLD ENEMIES.
+
+"Kindness nobler ever than revenge."
+
+
+If things came right in the Forest, it was not through effort. One had
+simply to surrender to its spell, to breathe in the beauty and the calm,
+to live there, as the president had said.
+
+Celia's thoughts were interrupted by Sally's hurried entrance.
+
+"Laws a mercy! Miss Celia, honey, Mrs. Whittredge's in the parlor. I come
+mighty nigh askin' her what she wanted in dis yere house."
+
+Celia looked up in astonishment. Mrs. Whittredge! What could it mean? "And
+she asked for me?" she repeated.
+
+"I done tol' her your mamma was sick, but she 'lowed 'twas you she
+wanted."
+
+Celia recovered herself. "Very well, Sally," she said, but it was with a
+beating heart she walked the length of the hall. Her enemy! What did it
+mean?
+
+Mrs. Whittredge, her heavy veil thrown back a little, stood beside the
+table in the centre of the room.
+
+"You are surprised, Celia," she said, as they faced each other, "but there
+is something I wish to say to you. No, I will stand, thank you."
+
+Celia waited, feeling, even in the midst of a tumult of emotion, the
+tragic beauty of the dark eyes.
+
+Mrs. Whittredge seemed to find words difficult. She looked down at the
+table on which her right hand rested. "I have made many mistakes," she
+began, "but--I have never meant to wrong any one. At the time of my
+husband's illness I--there were things said--I did not agree with Dr.
+Fair, and I may have gone too far. It is my misfortune to be intense. I
+was very unhappy. I thought the case was not understood. It was my
+mistake." She paused.
+
+"And my father died, crushed by the knowledge that he was unjustly blamed
+for the death of his friend! The discovery of your mistake comes too
+late." Celia's voice was tense with the stored up pain of those two years.
+
+Mrs. Whittredge drew back. "You are hard," she said. "We look at things
+from different standpoints. I have told you I wish to wrong no one,
+but--ah, your father was cruel--cruel to me!"
+
+"My father was never cruel," Celia cried.
+
+"Listen! He told me I was killing my husband. I, who worshipped him. I,
+who--God knows--would have given my life to--" she broke off in a passion
+of grief, sinking into a chair and burying her lace in her hands.
+
+Celia stood abashed and trembling before this revelation of a sorrow
+deeper than her own,--the sorrow of self accusation and unavailing regret.
+
+"Have you been wronged, are you hard and bitter? Seek the Kingdom of love.
+Your Heavenly Father knoweth. He will take care of your cause." For a
+moment Celia struggled against the wave of pity that was sweeping over
+her, then forgetting everything but the suffering of this woman bowed
+before her, she knelt by her side.
+
+"Forgive me," she whispered. "I do not want to be hard. I, too, have
+suffered, though not like you. Perhaps we wronged the dead by keeping
+bitterness in our hearts. Perhaps to them it is all made right now. I will
+forgive; I will try to forget."
+
+Mrs. Whittredge lifted her head. Her face was drawn and white.
+
+"I cannot forget," she said; "it is my misery. But I have no wish to make
+other lives as unhappy as my own. Will you believe me when I say I regret
+the wrong I did, and that I want to interfere with no one's happiness
+hereafter?"
+
+"I will believe it," Celia said, holding out her hand.
+
+Mrs. Whittredge did not refuse it; but her own was very cold in Celia's
+clasp. Drawing her veil over her face, without another word she left the
+house.
+
+Celia sat still, dazed by the sudden onward sweep of things. A meaning, a
+possible motive, beneath Mrs. Whittredge's words occurred to her as her
+heart began to beat more quietly. "To interfere with no one's happiness
+hereafter." Could Allan--but no, she would not let herself think it. She
+would stay in the Forest, and work and wait, and trust in its beneficent
+spell.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHTH.
+
+BETTER THAN DREAMS.
+
+                   "I like this place,
+    And willingly could waste my time in it."
+
+
+The engagement of Miss Betty Bishop and Dr. Hollingsworth was announced.
+As Miss Betty said, there was no use in trying to keep it a secret with
+Mrs. Parton spreading her suspicions abroad.
+
+"If you had confided in me and asked me not to tell, I shouldn't have
+breathed it," that lady protested.
+
+"Oh, yes, you would," Miss Betty said, laughing. "You know you tell
+everything; but, after all, there's no harm done, and no reason why it
+should not be known. I don't blame people for being surprised, either. I
+am surprised myself, and I see the absurdity, but--"
+
+"There is no absurdity about it. I am delighted. Dr. Hollingsworth is
+charming. I'd be willing to marry him myself if it wasn't for the
+colonel, and you are going to be as happy as happy can be." Mrs. Parton
+laughed her pleasant laugh, clearly overjoyed at what seemed to her the
+good fortune of her friend.
+
+Rosalind first heard the news from Belle. "Why," she said, "if he marries
+Cousin Betty, the president will be related to me."
+
+"Let's frame Dr. Hollingsworth's picture and give it to her," Maurice
+suggested.
+
+This was hailed as a brilliant idea, and that afternoon the five might
+have been seen in the picture store in search of a frame for the stolen
+photograph. It was an excellent likeness of the president, and an equally
+good one of black Bob, who, happening to pass at the critical moment, had
+been included unintentionally.
+
+The proprietor of the store, getting an inkling of the joke, hunted up a
+small frame which, with the help of a mat, answered very well. Then the
+Arden Foresters proceeded to Miss Betty's, where they delivered the
+package into Sophy's hands and scampered away, their courage not being
+equal to an encounter with her mistress.
+
+At the bank gate they separated, Belle going in with Katherine to practise
+a duet they were learning, and Jack hurrying home with the fear of his
+Latin lesson before his eyes. Maurice walked on with Rosalind.
+
+"Come in for a while," she said.
+
+The air was crisp, but the sunshine was bright, and the bench under the
+bare branches of the white birch seemed more inviting than indoors. As
+they took their seat there, Rosalind said gayly, "Father will be here this
+week. We are not sure what day."
+
+"And then you will have to go," Maurice added discontentedly.
+
+"Yes, and I am partly sorry and partly glad. I am so glad I came to
+Friendship, Maurice. Just think how many friends I have made!"
+
+"How long ago it seems--that day when you spoke to me through the hedge.
+You must have thought I was a dreadful muff," said Maurice.
+
+Rosalind laughed. "I thought you were cross."
+
+"I was in a horrid temper, but I didn't know how horrid until you told me
+the story and I read in the book what your cousin wrote about bearing
+hard things bravely. I suppose if it had not been for you, I should have
+gone on being a beast."
+
+"I was feeling pretty cross myself that day. I didn't know then what a
+pleasant place Friendship is. I think I have found a great deal of joy by
+the way, as Cousin Louis said," Rosalind continued meditatively.
+
+"And I thought my summer was spoiled," Maurice added.
+
+"It just shows you can never tell," Rosalind concluded wisely.
+
+"Are you sure you won't forget us when you go away?" Maurice wanted to say
+"me," instead of "us," but a sudden shyness prevented.
+
+"Why, Maurice, I couldn't! Especially you; for you were my first friend."
+The gray eyes looked into his frankly and happily.
+
+After Maurice had gone, Rosalind still sat there in the wintry sunshine.
+Things seemed very quiet just now, with Uncle Allan away for a week and
+Aunt Genevieve not yet returned. She and her grandmother were keeping each
+other company, and becoming better acquainted than ever before. Mrs.
+Whittredge's glance often rested upon her granddaughter with a sort of
+wistful affection, and once, when their eyes met, Rosalind, with a quick
+impulse, had gone to her side and put her arms around her. Mrs. Whittredge
+returned the caress, saying, "I shall be sorry to give you up, dearie."
+
+On another occasion Rosalind had told how surprised she had been to find
+that her grandmother did not wear caps and do knitting work. "But I like
+you a great deal better as you are," she added.
+
+Mrs. Whittredge smiled. "I fear I am in every way far from being an ideal
+grandmother," she said.
+
+Rosalind thought of all this, her eyes on the dismantled garden. The
+flower beds were bare, the shrubs done up in straw, the fountain dry, and
+yet something recalled the summer day when she had sat just here learning
+her hymn. She remembered her old dreams of Friendship, and now she decided
+that the reality was best. She shut her eyes and tried to think just how
+she had felt that Sunday afternoon.
+
+"What is the matter, little girl?" The magician's words, but not his
+voice; nor was it his face she looked into.
+
+"Father!" she cried,--"you dear! Where did you come from?"
+
+It was some time before any connected conversation was possible.
+
+"Why, father, how brown you are!"
+
+"And Rosalind, how tall you are, and how rosy! To think I have lost six
+months of your life!"
+
+"And I want to tell you everything just in one minute. What shall I do?"
+Rosalind said, laughing, as she held him fast.
+
+It did indeed seem a task of alarming proportions to tell all there was to
+tell; Rosalind felt a little impatient at having to share her father with
+her grandmother that evening. And there was almost as much to hear,--of
+Cousin Louis, whose health was now restored, but who was to spend some
+months in England, of their adventures, and the sights they had seen.
+
+"We shall want something to talk about when we get home," she was
+reminded.
+
+It would have been plain to the least observant that Patterson
+Whittredge's life was bound up with that of this little daughter. As he
+talked to his mother, his eyes rested fondly on Rosalind, and every
+subject led back to her at last.
+
+Rosalind, looking from her father to her grandmother, noted how much alike
+were their dark eyes, but here the resemblance ended. Mrs. Whittredge's
+oldest son, although he might possess something of her strong will, had
+nothing of her haughty reserve. His manner, in spite of the preoccupation
+of the student, was one of winning cordiality. Older and graver than
+Allan, there was yet a strong likeness between the brothers.
+
+Rosalind could not rest until she had taken her father to all the historic
+spots, as she merrily called them,--Red Hill, the Gilpin place, the
+cemetery, and the magician's shop, of course.
+
+"Friendship has been good for you, little girl," he said, as they set out
+far a walk next day.
+
+"I used to think that stories were better than real things, father, but it
+isn't so in Friendship. At first I was--oh, so lonely; I thought I never
+could be the least bit happy without you and Cousin Louis; but the
+magician and the Forest helped me, and since then I have had a beautiful
+time. I love Friendship. I almost wish we could live here."
+
+"And desert Cousin Louis and the university?"
+
+"No, I suppose not; but we can come back in the summer, can't we? And, oh,
+father dear, you'll join the Arden Foresters, won't you?"
+
+As they walked up the winding road at the cemetery, Mr. Whittredge heard
+something of those puzzles which had so disturbed Rosalind's first weeks
+in Friendship, beginning with the story of the rose.
+
+"It's funny, father, but I hadn't thought till then that grown people had
+quarrels. I might have known it from the story of the Forest; I remembered
+that afterward, and how things all came right."
+
+"Poor little girl! You should have been warned; and yet in spite of it you
+have learned that realities are better than dreams."
+
+"Father," Rosalind asked abruptly, "why was it you did not come to
+Friendship for so many years? Did not grandmamma like my mother? I think
+I ought to know."
+
+Mr. Whittredge smiled at the womanly seriousness of the lifted face. "I
+think you ought, dear," he answered.
+
+With her hand clasped in his he told her the story briefly, for even now
+he could not dwell upon it without pain, and as Rosalind listened she
+discovered that she had already heard a bit of it from Mrs. Parton and
+Mrs. Molesworth at the auction.
+
+"We must try, you and I, not to think too hardly of grandmamma now. She
+has suffered a great deal, and it was your mother's earnest wish that the
+trouble might be healed if the opportunity ever came." Patterson said
+nothing of his own struggle to forgive his mother's attitude toward his
+young wife.
+
+"I think, father," Rosalind said, "that perhaps grandmamma is sorry. One
+day, not long ago, I saw her looking at mother's picture. She did not know
+I was there. She took it from the table and held it in her hand, and I am
+sure she was crying a little."
+
+That was a happy day, for now they put aside sad memories, and turned to
+the merry side of life, Rosalind kept forgetting that her father had been
+in Friendship before, and continued to point out objects of interest with
+which he had been familiar long before she was born. So full were the
+hours that it was growing dusk when they turned into Church Lane to call
+on the magician.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER TWENTY-NINTH.
+
+AT THE MAGICIAN'S.
+
+"I would have you."
+
+
+Over his work these days the magician often smiled. It seemed to him that
+the good in things was beginning to show very plainly. The atmosphere of
+Friendship was clearing; the trouble which had first shown itself when
+Patterson Whittredge left his home had begun to lift with the coming of
+his daughter. Not that Rosalind had anything to do with it; it was only
+one of those bits of poetical justice that go to make life interesting.
+
+An onlooker might have observed that he smiled oftener when engaged on the
+spinet than at other times; but if the magician had made any more
+discoveries in connection with it, he kept them to himself.
+
+Now that the days were growing chill, a cheerful fire blazed on his
+hearth, before which Crisscross and Curly Q. dozed; he had found time to
+renew the motto over the chimney-piece, and the window-shelf was full of
+plants. The Arden Foresters appeared to regard the place as a club-room
+for their special benefit, and dropped in at all hours. The magician liked
+to have them there. As he sandpapered and oiled and polished, it was
+pleasant to glance in, now and then, at the open door, at a row of bright
+faces in the chimney-corner.
+
+Once in a while Celia joined them for a few minutes. She wanted to know
+about the purchaser of the spinet, but Morgan seemed inclined to evade her
+questions. He did not deny that there was a purchaser, but the name had
+apparently escaped him.
+
+Belle suggested that it might be the same mysterious individual who had
+bought the house, and Morgan accepted this as a happy solution when it was
+mentioned to him.
+
+The cabinet-maker was a very queer person at times.
+
+Celia sat in one corner of the high-backed settle alone this afternoon.
+Belle, who had come in with the news of the arrival of Rosalind's father
+the evening before, had just gone, and Celia, who had spent a busy
+morning, was reflecting that it was too late to begin a new task, and that
+she might as well allow herself to rest. Of late she hid taken life more
+quietly.
+
+"Morgan seems to have gone out. May I come in?" It was Allan Whittredge
+who spoke, standing in the door.
+
+"He was there a moment ago," Celia answered, rising.
+
+"May I wait for him here? You agreed we were not to be enemies; can't we
+go a step farther, and be friends?"
+
+Celia found no reply to this, but she sat dawn again.
+
+Allan took the arm-chair and faced her. "I seem to be always forcing
+myself on you, but I'll promise you this is the last time," he said.
+
+Still Celia had nothing to say, but she allowed him a glance of her dark
+eyes which was not discouraging.
+
+Allan went on: "I am so tired of mistakes and misunderstandings that,
+before the subject is closed forever between us, I want you to know the
+exact truth in regard to my feelings.
+
+"When I received your letter putting an end to things, at first I was hurt
+and angry, and I tried to persuade myself that it was for the best after
+all. You see, I did not know your side, and you will forgive me if I
+confess I thought you childish and lacking in deep feeling. Then, two
+years later, I saw you with the children, coming down the stairs at the
+Gilpin house, and something made me feel dimly that I had wronged you; but
+still I could not understand, until some words of Cousin Betty's suddenly
+made it clear. It was maddening to think what my long silence must have
+seemed to mean to you. Then, for the first time, I saw the real barrier
+between us, and the more I thought of it, the more impenetrable it became.
+
+"But it is hard for me to give up. I have looked at it on all sides; I
+went away that I might think more clearly about it, and of late I have
+begun to hope. I believe that love worthy of the name lives on in spite of
+everything, and I have dared to wonder if your love could have weathered
+this storm; if you still cared, though it might be only enough to give me
+the chance to win you again." Allan bent forward in his earnestness, his
+eyes fixed appealingly upon the small, still figure in the corner of the
+settle.
+
+"Do you not care at all, Celia?" he asked, after a moment's silence.
+
+Celia lifted her eyes. "Care?" she cried, "I have always cared,--through
+everything! When I thought you knew and believed the cruel charge against
+my father; when I knew his heart was broken; when he was dead,--when I
+wanted to hate you, still I cared. Have you cared like that?"
+
+This vehement confession, with its note of defiance, was bewildering.
+Allan hesitated before this unapproachable, tempestuous Celia. Then he
+drew his chair nearer. "Celia, dear heart, do not speak so; I have not
+been tried like you, but give me the chance and see how I will atone for
+the past."
+
+Suddenly Celia held out her hand; "Oh, Allan, I am so very bad-tempered. I
+seem always determined to quarrel," she said, with a laugh that was half a
+sob.
+
+This was enough, the strain was broken; Allan forsook the arm-chair for
+the settle.
+
+It was perhaps some fifteen minutes later when he asked Celia if she
+remembered the magician, and the tiger with three white whiskers. "What a
+brave little girl you were," he added.
+
+"Little goose," said Celia.
+
+"Does that mean you will no longer follow me blindly?"
+
+She laughed. "What made you think of it?" she asked.
+
+"Rosalind inquired the other day if I was the boy."
+
+"Allan, I don't know why I told the children that story."
+
+"At least it gave me the courage to try my fate."
+
+"I don't think it required much courage."
+
+"You don't know," Allan replied, smiling over her head. "But now, dearest,
+we are going to begin again and live in a fairy tale and forget all the
+hard and cruel things. Do you know, I had a vision that day, in the
+library of the old house? I saw a fire of blazing logs, and you and I sat
+before it, and we weren't quarrelling."
+
+"Dear old house! I can't bear to look at it now," Celia sighed.
+
+"I am sorry to hear that, for I was planning to live there."
+
+"Allan--you? Wasn't it sold?"
+
+"I bought it through an agent. I thought perhaps I might want to sell
+again if--if things did not come out as I hoped."
+
+"Even then you were thinking about it?"
+
+"I have thought of nothing else since the day I saw you on the stairs with
+your arm around Belle."
+
+"How unhappy I was! I did not dream that you still cared. It seems so long
+ago. Did you know your mother came to see me, Allan?"
+
+"Yes. She has keen eyes; she knew what it meant to me. Poor mother!"
+
+"I thought I could never forgive, but I believe I do now,--not
+always,--but I shall after a while."
+
+Allan pressed his lips to the hand he held; then, still holding it, he
+took the little case from his pocket and put the sapphire ring on her
+finger. "I hope Cousin Betty will be satisfied now," he remarked.
+
+Celia looked down at the quaint old ring. "How much it seems to stand
+for!" she said. "Rosalind will be glad," she added. "Do you know, I did
+not realize how bitter and unhappy I was until I met her one day in the
+cemetery. Her eyes were so sweet, they made me ashamed."
+
+"She told me about it," Allan answered.
+
+"Not about the rose? Did she see that? Oh, Allan--but I picked it up again
+and carried it home."
+
+"She long since came to the conclusion that she was mistaken in thinking
+it was her rose you threw away."
+
+It was growing dark. The magician, who had come in long ago, wisely
+refrained from interrupting his guests, but went about putting away his
+tools and smiling to himself. He was just lighting his lamp, when the shop
+door opened and Rosalind danced in, followed by her father.
+
+"Mr. Pat!" exclaimed the magician. "I heard you were here. I wondered if
+you wouldn't come to see me;" and he shook hinds as if he would never
+stop, while Rosalind circled around them merrily.
+
+"Mr. Pat was one of my boys," Morgan announced, as if it were a piece of
+news; adding, "We ought to make some tea."
+
+Rosalind clapped her hands, and nodded emphatically, "Let's!" she cried.
+"Why, there's Uncle Allan! Where did you come from?"
+
+"I arrived at home a few hours ago and found nobody, so I started out in
+search of some one. How are you, Patterson?" and the brothers clasped
+hands warmly.
+
+"We are going to have tea, just as I did that day when I was so lonely,
+and--here's Miss Celia!" Rosalind paused in surprise.
+
+Celia stood rather shyly in the door. She would gladly have escaped if she
+could.
+
+At Rosalind's exclamation, Allan drew his brother forward. "You remember
+Celia Fair, Patterson?" he said.
+
+"Certainly I do. She was about Rosalind's age when I last saw her."
+
+"I remember you very well, Mr. Whittredge," Celia said, as Patterson took
+both her hands, and looked into her glowing face.
+
+"I haven't been told anything, but--" he glanced inquiringly at Allan, who
+nodded, smiling.
+
+Rosalind caught sight of the ring on Celia's finger. "Oh," she said, "was
+that what the will meant? Are you going to wear it always? I know Aunt
+Patricia would be glad!" and she hugged Celia joyfully.
+
+That what followed was a childish performance cannot be denied, but alas
+for those who do not sometimes enjoy putting away grown-up dignity!
+Rosalind had set her heart on having tea, and the magician was no less
+pleased at the idea. He lighted up and filled the kettle, and she set the
+table, while the others looked on and laughed.
+
+"I began being a boy again four months ago, and I like it. How old are
+you?" Allan asked, passing Celia her cup.
+
+"About six," she answered.
+
+"Then I am ten."
+
+"Then you are too little for me to play with," said Rosalind. "How old are
+you, father?"
+
+"If Allan is ten I ought to be about sixteen, I suppose."
+
+"Here's to the magician!" cried Allan, and they drank the cabinet-maker's
+health right merrily.
+
+"I drink to the ring which has come to its own again," said Rosalind's
+father; and so the fun went on.
+
+Celia forgot her shyness and was a happy little girl once more.
+
+"Let us drink to the Forest and all who have learned its secret," she
+proposed.
+
+In the midst of it all, Miss Betty walked in.
+
+"Well!" she exclaimed, "I think you might have asked me."
+
+"It isn't too late. This is an impromptu affair in honor of Patterson,"
+said Allan, offering her a chair.
+
+"You have no idea what a noise you are making," she said, greeting the
+stranger. "I had just come in from a guild meeting, and the unusual
+illumination and the sounds of hilarity were too much for my curiosity."
+Here her glance rested in evident surprise upon Celia.
+
+"Celia has something to show you, Cousin Betty," Allan said mercilessly,
+"and you are not to bother me about it any more."
+
+Miss Betty went around to Celia and kissed her. "It is what I have been
+hoping all along," she whispered.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER THIRTIETH.
+
+OAK LEAVES.
+
+"Bid me farewell."
+
+
+"I have something to tell you," said Belle, as the Arden Foresters walked
+up the hill toward the Gilpin place.
+
+"So have I," added Rosalind, "something lovely," and she waved a small
+package aloft.
+
+"Is it something for us?" Katherine asked.
+
+"Let Belle tell hers first. Mine must wait till we get to the oak tree."
+
+"It is about the ring. I have found out how it came to be in the spinet,"
+Belle announced.
+
+"Really? How?"
+
+"Lucy Brown, Aunt Milly's granddaughter, put it there," she began, all
+eagerness to tell her news. "Aunt Milly, you know, was Mr. Gilpin's cook,
+and Lucy had come in from the country to stay with her a few days, when he
+was taken ill. The morning he died she found the case with the ring in it
+under the library table, and she carried it into the drawing-room, where
+she was dusting, meaning to show it to her grandmother. Just as she had
+opened the spinet some one called to her to run for Dr. Fair, that Mr.
+Gilpin was dying, and in a great hurry she pushed the ring case under the
+strings and closed the lid and forgot all about it. She went home before
+anybody knew the ring was lost, and never thought of it again till she
+came to Friendship the other day and our Manda was telling her about the
+magician's finding it."
+
+"I am almost sorry we know how it happened," said Rosalind. "I liked to
+think the magician had really broken the spell."
+
+It was the last meeting of the Arden Foresters before Rosalind's
+departure, and in spite of the wintry day they decided it must be held
+under the oak tree; and little cared they for the weather as they rustled
+through the fallen leaves beneath the bare brown trees.
+
+"I believe it is going to snow," said Jack, turning up his collar.
+
+"If you'll stay we'll take you coasting down the Gilpin hill," Maurice
+added.
+
+"I am afraid if I waited it wouldn't snow," Rosalind answered, laughing,
+"And now I have something to show you." They had reached the arbor, and
+sitting down she opened the box she carried.
+
+"You know we have been wondering what we should do for badges when the
+leaves were gone. Just see what the president has sent!" and she displayed
+to their delighted gaze five small, enamelled oak leaves.
+
+If Dr. Hollingsworth was sensitive to compliments, his ears must have
+burned badly about this time. Belle summed them up by remarking, "I just
+believe he is almost the nicest man I ever knew."
+
+They stood together under the oak tree, and Rosalind pinned on the new
+badges. "Let's promise to be friends, whatever happens," she said,
+"because we know the Forest secret and have had such good times this
+summer."
+
+The sun shone out brightly for a moment as the wind swept over the
+hilltop, rattling the vines on Patricia's Arbor; under the autumn sky the
+winding river sparkled as gayly as when its banks were green; on the
+far-away stretch of yellow road the wintry sunshine lay; and under the red
+oak they clasped hands and promised to be friends always.
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MR. PAT'S LITTLE GIRL***
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