ure, it stood at last, in gray granite magnificence, on the
crest of Edgewood Hill, a palace without and within; but to those
for whom it was built had never come, through the years of its
being, a single June holiday.

It was this that some of the residents were discussing, as they
crocheted, knitted, or embroidered in Miss Major's room on a dull
May morning.

"Too bad June Holiday couldn't have lived just a little longer!"
Mrs. Bonnyman sighed.

"What would she say if she knew how her wishes were ignored!" Miss
Castlevaine shook her head.

"Regular prison house!" snapped Mrs. Crump.

"Well, I'm glad to be here if I do have to obey rules," confessed a
meek little woman with grayish, sandy hair. "It's a lovely place,
and there has to be rules where there's so many."

"There don't have to be hair-crimping rules, Mrs. Prindle--huh!"

As the curly-headed maker of the hated law walked across the lawn.
Miss Castlevaine sent her an annihilating glance.

"Is that Miss Sniffen?" queried Miss Mullaly, adjusting her
eyeglasses.

Miss Castlevaine nodded.

The others watched the tall, straight figure, on its way to the
vegetable garden.

"She has the expression of a basilisk I saw the picture of the
other day." spoke up Mrs. Dick.

"What kind of an expression was that?" inquired Mrs. Winslow Teed.
"I saw a stuffed basilisk in a London museum when I was abroad, but
I can't seem to recollect its expression."

"Look at _her_!" laughed Mrs. Dick. "She has it to perfection."

Miss Crilly's giggle preceded her words.

"She's like a beanpole with its good clothes on, ain't she? But,
then, I think Miss Sniffen is real nice sometimes," she amended.

"So are basilisks and beanpoles--in their proper places," retorted
Miss Major; "but they don't belong in the June Holiday Home."

"Are her rules so awful?" inquired Miss Mullaly anxiously.

"I don't like them very," answered the little Swedish widow.

"Mis' Adlerfeld puts it politely." laughed Miss Crilly. "I'll tell
you what they are, they are like the little girl in the rhyme--with
a difference,--

'When they're bad, they're very, very bad,
And when they're good, they're horrid!'"

"I heard you couldn't have any company except one afternoon a
week," resumed Miss Mullaly, after the laughing had ceased,--"not
anybody at all."

"Sure!" returned Miss Crilly. "Wednesday afternoon, from three to
five, is the only time you can entertain your best feller."