es fringed Champlain's Road with a white
lacey hedge, heavy with perfume and droning with bees. The clover
fields flushed a soft lilac tint, the orchards were a mass of pink and
white blossoms, and the whole valley rang with the music of birds from
the robin's first dawn note to the whip-poor-will's evensong.

Elizabeth tried not to be wildly happy, in view of her shortcomings,
but found it impossible. May was here and she, too, must be riotously
joyful. The boys were wont to be off on fishing expeditions once more,
and over hill and dale she followed them in spite of all opposition.
One radiant afternoon John and Charles Stuart went, as usual, far
afield on their homeward journey from school. They crossed the creek
far below the mill and, making a wide circuit round the face of Arrow
Hill, came home by way of Tom Teeter's pasture-field. They had chosen
this route on purpose to rid themselves of Elizabeth, but she had
dogged their footsteps; and now arrived home with them, weary but
triumphant. As they approached the old stone house, she remembered
that she bore dismaying signs of her tumultuous journey. She had met
with many accidents by the way, among others a slip into a mud-hole as
they crossed the creek. So, when they reached the low bars that led
from Tom's property into The Dale field, she allowed the boys to go on
alone, while she sat upon the grass and strove to repair damages.

As she was scraping the mud from her wet stockings and struggling to
re-braid her hair, she heard voices coming from Tom Teeter's barnyard.
Glancing through the tangle of alder and raspberry bushes she was
overjoyed to see Annie standing by the strawstack talking to Granny
Teeter. Annie was the old woman's especial pet, and often went over to
keep her company when Tom was in town or on an oratorical tour.
Elizabeth sighed happily. She would wait and go home with Annie. One
was almost always safe in her company.

So she sat down on the end of a rail, teetering contentedly. The
rattle of a wagon could be heard on Champlain's Road. Tom was driving
in at the gate, coming from town. He would be sure to have some
sweeties, and would probably send them home with Annie. Granny was
hobbling about the barnyard, a red and black checked shawl round her
head and shoulders, a stick in her hand, which she used as much to rap
the unruly pigs and calves as for a support. She was complaining in
her high querulous voice about her turkeys