Aunt Selina, the Blue Birds felt sorry for her, knowing what a
miserable time Ruth would have. Then, too, Ruth's father was expected
home that Saturday, and Ruth had not seen him for almost a year.

Ruth, however, was willing to sacrifice her own pleasure to help Aunt
Selina--as every Blue Bird tries to follow the Golden Rule--so she left
her playmates Saturday morning, with promises to write every day until
she returned, and they, in turn, earnestly promised to explain to her
father just why she went away the day he was expected home.

Now, Happy Hills, Aunt Selina's home, was several miles from Greenfields
Station, and the country about this section of Pennsylvania was so
beautiful and healthful that city people gradually settled upon estates
and spent their summers there. Beautiful carriages and automobiles daily
passed over the fine old road that divided Happy Hills in half. But no
one had much of an opportunity to admire the place as high board fences
had been built on either side of the road as far as the property fronted
it.

Happy Hills was an old family estate comprising more than two thousand
acres, half woodland and half cultivated fields and green pastures. A
spring of clear water, hidden among the rocks of the highest hill at the
back of the farm, furnished plenty of water for the noisy brook that
tumbled from rock to rock on the hillside, and, after splashing in and
out among the trees, ran like a broad ribbon through the green meadows.

The entire property was enclosed with a high fence, even the woodland
being carefully hemmed in so no little children could get in to play in
the brook, or pick wild berries and flowers that decayed in profusion
year after year.

Sally was a trusted old housekeeper who had her mistress' confidence;
Abe was her husband who had driven the Talmage coupe ever since he came
North at the time of the Civil War.

Miss Selina had not always been so disagreeable. She had old-fashioned
pictures of herself at the age of eighteen when hoop-skirts were the
fashion, and the young women wore their hair in "water-falls." At that
time a handsome young man was in love with her, but he was shot in the
war, and she brooded over her loss so long that she lost all the
sweetness of living. The older she grew the more disagreeable she
became, until, not one of her relatives wanted to be with her, but
managed to keep far from her complaining voice.

And for this old lady, Ruth had waived the