can play ball and says we can make fires and
things," cried Davy to Peter Hyde.

"Then you won't need me anymore?"

"You can be a honery member, too. She says they do nice things for
clubs."

Peter Hyde put an arm across Davy's shoulder. "I think we could do a
lot of nice things for Davy and his club," he said, directly to Nancy.
"Seems to me there's energy and enthusiasm here that's being sort of
wasted. What do you say--shall we be honery members?"

Nancy nodded. "I swear to keep all the rules."

Davy hopped with joy. "Wait 'til I tell the fellers. I guess you'll
see 'em round, even if they do get a lickin'! But, say," he stopped
short, inspired by a sudden thought, "mebbe now Mis' Leavitt's niece
b'longs they won't _have_ to sneak!"

Peter Hyde walked back with Nancy and Davy as far as the stone wall.
From, the corner of her eye Nancy was, quite against her will, admiring
the straight figure whose strength was only made more evident by the
rough working clothes.

"He seems _nice_--for a hired man," she was thinking, all the while she
was answering Davy's boyish questions.

And more than once, as he watched Nancy, that first perplexing look
came back into Peter Hyde's eyes.

"Why, she _isn't_ a kid, after all!"

CHAPTER X

THE HIRED MAN

"Claire, darling--

"It's after ten o'clock at night and here on North Hero that's like
four in the morning in New York, but I can't wait another minute to
write to you. The _funniest_ thing has happened--only I'll save it for
the end of my letter.

"I haven't written to you since that letter with the crazy postscript,
like a nightcap, on it. Well, instead of being deported from Happy
House, bag and baggage, I seem to become more of a fixture, each day.
And each day, Claire Wallace, I grow more and _more_ to think I belong
here. Just so often I have to shake myself and say 'don't
forget--you're pretending.' And, I scarcely dare write this--I believe
they are all growing a _little_, wee bit fond of me--the real me. Of
course Webb loved me at first sight and so did old Jonathan--_he's_ a
dear! And precious little Aunt Milly, who is getting the prettiest
pink in her cheeks and can laugh now, truly laugh, and is as proud as
can be over her first washcloth, she wants me with her all the time. I
can tell by the way she looks at me. And I am really growing
embarrassed, to say nothing of fat, with the good things B'lindy cooks
and if you knew B'lindy,