: "We found the Green Mountains particularly lovable"]

We spoke of staying at Pittsfield all night, just because it's
lovely; but we arrived so early that Caspian and Mrs. Shuster wanted to
go on to Great Barrington, where we had planned to stop. They said they
expected letters. "Shall we thwart them?" Jack asked me mischievously. I
murmured that it was a "toss up," so we did go on--which was a good
thing, as it turned out.

Pittsfield _ought_ to have been stopped in, for it is a dream of beauty,
and so is Lenox. Stockbridge seemed just as charming--almost more to me,
for Hawthorne lived there, in a "little red house with green shutters,"
on the shore of Stockbridge Bowl. We had followed him about from place
to place, but there we had to leave him at last, writing "The House of
the Seven Gables."

Then, always running along the most perfect road, we came to Great
Barrington, Bryant's home. We couldn't escape the romancers and the
poets if we'd wished, for it was _their_ country. It was late by this
time, and we were hungry and dusty. I didn't expect letters, and felt
inclined to wish we had lingered farther back. Here there would be a
rush to bathe and dress before a decent dinner hour: and it looked such
a smart hotel!

"I believe, now I come to think of it, that I asked to have letters
forwarded to me from Kidd's Pines," remarked Larry, as we all walked
into the big hall. "They'll be the first I've had--if there are any. I
put them off till the last minute! I didn't want the beastly things to
look forward to on getting home."

I hardly listened. The hotel seemed full, and I was wondering if Jack
could get me a room with a bath. Pat and I and the Goodrich goddesses
grouped together, waiting to hear our luck as to quarters, when Larry
came to us, looking rather dazed. He had some letters in his hand, and
an open telegram.

"This has been waiting for me all day," he said in a queer voice, and
held out the telegram to Pat. I felt a little frightened. But nobody we
loved could be dead!

"Oh, Molly!" the girl cried. "Kidd's Pines has had a fire. It is partly
burnt down. All the people have had to go away. That means my life is
over!"

The last words broke from her in such a tone of despair that I was
startled. It was grievous that damage should have come to the dear old
house. But why should she say her "life was over?" I asked myself the
question; but suddenly the answer seemed to come, like a whisper in my
ear