the gate closed securely between him and the foe.

"It's Mark Griffin!" cried Ivy.

"Yes, I knew him at once," returned Alene.

The three girls clapped their hands joyfully, starting a round of
applause. Soon from every part of the patch came cheers and shouts and
whistling; a small boy, who perhaps was the cause of all the trouble,
scrambled from a tree near the big gate with a whoop that would have
startled an Indian brave. He ran across the field, picked up the coat
from where it lay on the ground almost in ribbons, and returned it to
its owner.

With a humorous glance at the crumpled and grass-stained object Mark
flung it over his shoulder and, followed by the urchin and one or two
other boys, started away from the field and was soon out of sight down
the lane.

"He wouldn't wait a minute," explained Hugh apologetically, when he and
Mat returned to the girls.

Ivy curled her lip.

"There's a great deal in the way things are asked," she said, and Hugh
knew she was offended.

"Who wouldn't run away from a lot of girls ready to slobber over him
with thanks and prayers?" said Mat with a broad grin.

"As if we would make him a courtesy and say, 'Thank you, sir, for
saving my life!'" retorted Ivy.

Hugh busied himself picking up the tins and the upset buckets. He
sympathized with Mark's dislike of a scene.

"Any of you fellows would have done the same if you had the chance,"
the latter had said.

"Did she expect us to bring a fellow by the coat collar to be thanked?
Girls are queer, they always enjoy fussing and the limelight,"
concluded Hugh. He kept resolutely away from them.

"What's the matter with Hugh?" whispered Laura after a time.

"Why?"

"He seems kind o' grumpy."

Ivy picked out a monster berry and put it into her mouth.

"The wind's changing I guess! Boys are like weather-vanes, you never
can tell what way they're going next!"

Laura smiled at the idea of comparing staid, dependable Hugh with
anything so uncertain as a weather-vane.

Ivy kept on filling her tin cup and pretended not to pay any attention
to her brother. She knew her uncalled-for, sarcastic remark had
offended him. Had it been anyone else, she would have made ample
apology, but it was only poor old Hugh--it was not necessary to trouble
herself about him. He would "come round" after while, as he always
did. No matter how far in the wrong Ivy might be, it was always Hugh
who made the first advances toward a reco