h again, so Eliza was at liberty to
take the children in hand, but before they went off, grandma said, very
gravely, to them, that they were to go directly to bed for two whole
hours, so that they might have a quiet time to think over the mischief
they had done.

CHAPTER XXV.

THE END OF THE SUMMER.

Two weeks later everything was running again as usual. Kenneth, quite
recovered, was as lively as possible, though he was a funny looking
little object, with his lovely golden curls, to everybody's great grief,
cropped as close to his head as a prize-fighter's.

"If it only will grow out a _little_, before mamma gets home," mourned
Cricket. "He looks so ridiculous. He looks just like the sheep, after
'Gustus John has sheared them. Even the little lambs don't know their own
mothers, sometimes, auntie, after they're clipped. Oh!" clasping her
hands in horror at a new thought. "Do you suppose mamma won't even
_know_ Kenneth?"

"He doesn't look much like himself, certainly, but I don't fancy that
there's the least danger that his mother won't know him instantly," said
auntie, comfortingly.

"I'm so glad," said Cricket, with a sigh of relief, "if you really
think so. But, anyway, he's the _sheepiest_-looking child."

But, fortunately, his burns had healed beautifully, and the doctor
assured them that he would even outgrow every scar. Cricket was entirely
herself again, with only one deep scar across her right wrist to remind
her of that unlucky sacrifice to the Jabberwock.

Edna was at home, also, delighted to be back with her beloved Eunice.
She proudly flourished, actually, two stories for the "Echo," as the
result of her "banishment," as she insisted on calling her visit. She
was so proud of them that she wanted to carry them about with her all
the time, and was all impatience for the next number of the paper to be
ready. Eunice had been working at it, during Edna's absence, and it was
all ready, excepting to print Edna's story, for which space had been
left.

It was getting well into September now, and the children were looking
eagerly forward to the return of the travellers, who were to sail early
in October. Letters said that mamma was improving so delightfully that
she was quite as strong as ever, and that she was looking forward with
quite as much impatience to seeing the children again as they could
have to see her. The children didn't quite believe this, though.

"She _couldn't_ be glad as I am," s